


A Path Well Trodden

by cypheroftyr, The_Arkadian



Series: Reflections [9]
Category: Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Inquisition AU, Multi, OC, Trespasser Spoilers, post end game fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 66
Words: 755,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheroftyr/pseuds/cypheroftyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Arkadian/pseuds/The_Arkadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Seorsus, we're continuing the tale of the blond stranger, the Inquisitor's wedding and the time leading up to Trespasser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Trespasser

Anders knelt down next to Fenris and checked him over briefly as Dorian came and stood nearby.

“Need a hand getting him up onto the bed?” offered the Altus; Anders shook his head briefly.

“No need - he’s coming around already.” He glanced up at the other blond mage, and levelled a pointing finger at him. “ _You_ , on the other hand, have gone rather pale and need to sit down before we end up with two of you on the floor; Meneris, give him a hand, would you?”

“Alright, as long as one of you explains what’s going on here?” Meneris said as he steered the strange man to a seat. “Here have something to drink, I’ll have food sent up.” 

“Best ask for Hal and Invictus to come join us,” suggested Anders before glancing down as Fenris groaned faintly. “Hello, love; welcome back,” he added gently.

“I … swore I saw a ghost.” Fenris muttered as he opened his eyes. “It is you, isn’t it?” 

Anders smiled reassuringly. “Yes, it’s me. Note the lack of white streak in my hair,” he said teasingly. “But, uh, if you think you saw a ghost, well... he’s rather real and solid, and all of us can see him, love.” He helped Fenris to sit up as he glanced over to the other elf. “Meneris, you’ve met my double before, though that was in the Fade at Adamant. Meet Arden Hawke.”

Arden was staring at Anders with a bewildered expression. He glanced at Meneris.

“I’m.... sorry, do I know you? Have we met before?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“He doesn’t remember?” Fenris said as he got to his feet. 

“I’m guessing that he’s had a hard time of it since you last saw him in the Fade? Honestly, everyone assumed you were dead.” Meneris replied and frowned when he felt a pinch to his side. “Stop.” 

“Alright, enough, before this all gets out of hand,” said Anders, raising his hands. “I don’t even remember _leaving_ the Fade; I don’t remember much between that Nightmare... _thing_ and then finally opening my eyes here in Skyhold. Dorian, you don’t need to pinch Meneris, I think he’s well aware he’s not dreaming.”

“Thought it might provide a little useful grounding, is all,” shrugged the Altus as he glanced at his elven betrothed before staring down at Arden who seemed almost dazed. “Is he alright? Doesn’t look too steady....”

“He doesn’t look alright.” Fenris said as he made his way down to answer the door. “Hey love, I hope you like surprises.” he said to Vic.

“I don’t think I will like this surprise.” Vic said warily. Behind him, Hal looked apprehensive.

Fenris waved them up into the room. Arden glanced up at the two newcomers with a blank expression as they entered.

“What’s going on? Why did you ask for me to -” Hal broke off as he glanced from Anders to his seeming twin, who had lowered his head to his right hand. Hal’s eyes widened, and he clutched at Invictus’ arm as he swayed slightly, the colour draining from his face.

“Get him sat down before he falls over too.” Fenris said, but he noticed his husband had not moved. “Vic?”

“He’s...he died. I saw him die.” Vic whispered as Dorian glanced at Hal then swiftly moved to guide the unresisting red-haired healer to a chair and pushed a glass of wine into his hand.

Arden stared up at the other Hawke, a touch of alarm beginning to creep into his otherwise blank expression. He swallowed hard. “I have no idea who any of you are, although I have the horrible feeling I _should_ know you - and you all evidently seem to know rather more about me than I do myself which is really very discomforting. Will someone please tell me why you all seem to think I should be dead? Because I can assure you I’m not.”

“What do you last remember? How far back do you remember?” asked Dorian as he turned back towards Arden, one hand resting gently on Hal’s shoulder. “That would seem to be the best place to start, yes?”

“I remember... pain, being in a dungeon somewhere. For months, it seems, though I had no idea as to the passing of time. Then someone asking me if I could swim. The next thing I remember is waking up on a beach in just pants and shirt, in pain, not knowing who I was or where I was,” said Arden slowly. “I was on a beach in Antiva, not far from the mouth of the Minanter, I later found out. A merchant took me on as a caravan guard up to Antiva City, and then I took ship for Amaranthine with a captain called Isabela.”

“Minanter?” exclaimed Anders; he exchanged glances with Invictus, and then turned away abruptly, his hands clenched into fists.

“That runs through...Starkhaven.” Vic added. “Maker’s balls.” 

Fenris went over to Hal who still looked a hairsbreadth from fainting as it was. “You alright?”

“No,” said Hal softly, his voice almost a toneless whisper. “No, I am rather not alright.”

“What can I do? Can you talk to him or do you need a little longer to sit here?” Fenris asked quietly.

“I think we need to send a diplomatic missive to Starkhaven, personally.” Vic snapped.

Anders turned and stared at Invictus, then back at Arden. “They thought he was me,” he muttered tersely. “Maker, they -” He closed his eyes and looked sick.

“I feel dizzy,” murmured Hal.

“Maker’s breath. Please don’t all suddenly fall over in a faint, all of you!” exclaimed Dorian as he glanced around and his eyes widened.

“I’m done fainting...I think I need I need to take a trip to Starkhaven, feeling the need to spread my wings just a bit.” Fenris said as he felt Hal’s grip on his hand tighten. “How do they feel about dragons there?”

Anders stared at Fenris, a little wild-eyed. “I have no idea. But that sounds like-” He broke off, then lifted a hand in a “wait” gesture. “Excuse me a moment,” he managed calmly, before he turned and bolted for the balcony where he leaned over the rail and was violently sick.

Fenris came out with a glass of water for Anders as he leaned against the railing. “Love?”

Anders was slumped against the rail, gasping for breath - each gasp sounding like a ragged sob. He turned his head slightly. “I’ll... I’ll be alright,” he managed, his voice thick and with a queer little hitch to it. He glanced away.

“Anders...you don’t have to pretend with me. Here have some water and take a few minutes, alright?” Fenris rubbed his hand in a slow circle on Anders’ back as they stood there. 

“I just wasn’t expecting that - _any_ of that,” moaned Anders. “He... Fenris, he’s lost all memory of who he is - and _Sebastian_ did that to him. And you know it must have been because he thought Arden was _me_. That - that _would_ have been me, if Sebastian had found me before Loghain did.”

“He didn’t find you, and he won’t. End of story, now do you need more water, to sit down?” Fenris asked.

“It doesn’t matter if he finds me now - I’m too powerful for him to touch, and he knows it. Why do you think Arden’s here now? The news of my appointment as Grand Enchanter has reached Starkhaven, evidently, and he knows he can’t touch me,” replied Anders as he turned slowly and leaned against the stone balustrade. “I guess he let Arden go when he realised he was torturing the wrong man to death.”

“We can hope so. Let’s get Arden fed, cleaned up and I’ll get him situated in a room so he and Hal can talk. I just hope he remembers Hal at some point, or it will devastate him.” Fenris said as he waved Invictus back towards the others.

Arden was staring around himself still with a troubled expression as they returned. Hal had retreated to a chair almost as far away from the other Hawke as he could get and was hunched in upon himself, crying softly.

“I’m sorry, I just - I don’t remember any of this, any of what you describe,” said Arden helplessly.

“It’s alright Arden...we’ll help you get cleaned up, fed and see what we can do to help you retrieve your memory.” Vic said softly as he motioned for Fenris to help Hal out of the room.

“We’ll get you a room, and get you settled until you get back on your feet. You are welcome here.” Meneris offered.

“I just can’t shake this feeling that I _should_ know you - all of you, somehow,” Arden sighed. “But... thank you. You’re very kind.”

Hal lifted his head as Fenris touched his shoulder. “I told him Belann has died, and I could see it meant.... nothing,” he said softly.

“Give him time Hal, he’s not even sure who he is right now let alone us. He’s not trying to harm you love.” Fenris said quietly. “Come, let’s go to your room so we can speak.”

Hal nodded, and allowed himself to be tugged to his feet. He was silent as they walked back to his room, save for the way his breathing occasionally hitched.

He waited until Fenris had closed the door behind them, and then he drew a ragged breath.

“When I walked in the room and saw him sitting there, I couldn’t tell at first if he were Arden or Anders - Arden’s Anders - and.... and I honestly didn’t know which one I wanted him to be more,” he confessed. “It wasn’t until he looked up and I saw the white streak in his hair that I knew it was Arden. And then to hear him... to know he doesn’t remember _anything_... Fenris, I don’t know whether I’m crying more for myself that he doesn’t remember any of our years together, or for him that this was done to him - or for sheer anger that Sebastian did this to him!” His voice seemed to almost drip with sudden vitriol as anger flared in his eyes at his last words. 

“All of the above? Come on and sit with me for awhile until you’ve calmed down. He’s lucky to be alive and to have been brought here. We’ll help him as best we can but keep your anger to this room or he may think you are upset with him for no reason he’ll know.” Fenris counseled.

Hal drew a deep breath then nodded as he exhaled slowly, a little shaken himself by the fierceness of his own anger. He sat down on the end of his bed and rubbed the scar on his forehead slowly. “I’m sorry, I got a little carried away,” he said quietly. “And today was supposed to be a quiet, happy day before the wedding!”

“Well you know our lives are strange.” Fenris tried to make the other man at least smirk but fell short. “Sorry, I guess I was trying a bit too hard.” 

“No, I.. I appreciate the effort,” Hal managed. “I just... he was the last person I expected to see sitting there, and... I guess I’m still a little in shock. Maker only knows how Anders is handling it. He sounded very rough.” He glanced up at Fenris.

“I doubt he’s handling it at all. He seemed rather distraught. I’ll check on him before dinner, and make sure he’s not drunk himself stupid.” Fenris answered.

“Maker, I hope he doesn’t,” said Hal with a faint frown. “After the amount everyone drank last night, more wine is the last thing he needs. Though I understand the temptation. It’s only the fact we _did_ all drink so much that’s stopping me from reaching for a bottle right now, frankly.” He gave a sheepish shrug.

“Don’t remind me, even I managed to get drunk at some point last night. I’m surprised I woke up when I did without throwing up.” Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his rebellious stomach under control. “I think I need something to calm my stomach.”

Hal gave him a small, wry smile and lifted up a hand; it began to glow with a faint blue light. “Allow me?” he asked.

“Please.” Fenris sat down so Hal could work on him. He groaned as he felt the cool healing magic wash over him. “That’s so much better, thank you.”

Hal’s smile grew a little wider. “You’re welcome,” he answered. “Though I wouldn’t advise a repeat of last night any time soon. Even _you_ can’t handle _that_ level of drinking too much!” He pressed his hand to his own stomach and channelled a little healing into himself to ease his own symptoms. “And I don’t think I can really handle it much at all. I’m not surprised Anders threw up, all told.”

“Let’s get breakfast then, we were interrupted by his return.” Fenris offered.

Hal nodded as he rose to his feet, brushing absently at the sleeve of his robe as he turned towards Fenris. “Anders should eat as well - if he’s calm enough. Do you think he’ll be in his own rooms with Invictus?”

“Probably, and Arden is wherever they have situated him.” Fenris replied.

“I’m not sure if I’m quite ready to talk with him just yet,” admitted Hal. “Maybe we should have breakfast sent to Anders’ rooms, and we can all eat there?”

“Of course, let’s get going.” Fenris led them out, his mind working on how he could get revenge and not cause a war.

Hal’s light tap at the door to Anders’ rooms was answered by a grim-faced Invictus, who let them in wordlessly. They found Anders sitting on the edge of his bed looking wrung out, white-faced and exhausted; the bucket on the floor near his feet told its own story as Zevran gently rubbed the blond mage’s back in soothing circles.

Hal took one look and crossed straight over to them, laying one hand on Anders’ forehead and the other upon his shoulder as both hands glowed blue. Anders closed his eyes with a low, thankful groan and a little of the colour crept slowly back into his cheeks.

“We’ve had breakfast sent up, it won’t be long now.” Fenris said as he took a seat opposite of Anders.

“If you’d told me that before Hal used his magic, I think I might have hated you a little,” smiled Anders wanly. “As it is, now I think you’re just teasing me. Before? I might have thought you were deliberately trying to torture-” He broke off and closed his eyes.

Hal glanced down at the bucket then sighed. “A shock like that, followed by those kinds of revelations - after the amount of wine we all put away? Frankly, I’m surprised we weren’t _all_ hung over buckets this morning.”

“I still am, a bit.” Vic grumbled. Wordlessly, Hal crossed back to the scowling Champion and pressed a hand against his abdomen, channelling healing into him too before he glanced over to Zevran.

The Antivan grinned and shook his head. “ _Some_ of us last night were more cautious with their drinking than others, no?”

“Zevran, love, I do believe you’re being smug at us,” said Anders. “Just for that, you’re on babysitting duty. Because otherwise we’ll all have to put up with my wonderful daughter being excessively perky and cheerful at us over breakfast - and much though I love her, I don’t think any of us is quite ready for that this morning.”

“You do have a point,” conceded the elf as he rose to his feet. He pressed a kiss to Anders’ cheek before giving one each to Fenris and Invictus. “I shall keep Her Royal Highness distracted, hmm? At least for an hour or so.” He grinned then disappeared through the door that led to the young girl’s rooms.

“I can help as well if you need it.” Fenris offered. The Antivan’s head reappeared around the doorway. 

“Now that would depend, _carissimi_ ,” he smiled. “Will you frown and tut at me if I start showing little Serah Ellowynne the correct way to fight with two knives again?”

Fenris rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “No, I’ll show her how to properly fight with a sword when she’s old enough.” 

“It is as well I am teaching her how to protect herself _now_ at the size and strength she already is then, no?” Zevran grinned. “Though with her magic she-”

There was a delighted scream of “Uncle Zevran!!” and then the Antivan’s head disappeared suddenly, his eyes widening briefly before he disappeared out of sight.

Anders sighed quietly.

“Better that than her being a brat eh love?” Vic asked quietly.

“Oh, quite,” he nodded. “Sorry, I’m... I’m really not at my best this morning, love. I’m glad Ellowynne didn’t see me in the state I was in earlier.”

“Yes but she’ll be alright and once Arden remembers himself more, I’m sure he’ll be just as charmed by her as we are.” Vic offered.

Anders dropped his gaze to the floor. “Maker. Vic. How will we deal with this? Arden, Sebastian, the whole mess?”

“No idea really, not at the moment. I’m just kind of floored to be honest. I thought he was dead.” Vic replied.

“We all did,” replied Hal quietly as he sat down at the table. “I... I honestly don’t know what to say or feel right now. I want to know what happened after Belann and I were sucked into the rift back near Crestwood, what happened over _there_ \- what happened to him in the rift after Adamant. And right now he can’t answer _any_ of those questions.”

“We’ll see what happens after he’s had a chance to rest and recover.” Vic said.

Anders ran his hands slowly over his face. “Maker, I feel as though I just ran two races back-to-back, and it’s not even mid-morning yet. Maybe I’ll feel more myself once I’ve eaten.”

“Same love, same. Come on, let’s get something to eat then I’ll check on him” Vic said, his gaze on the others briefly before he went back to his tea.

Anders nodded. He rose and moved to join them at the table, giving Fenris a reassuring smile before they all began to serve themselves and eat.

***

The room Arden had been given was off one of the other hallways, near the great hall. Invictus found the other Hawke sitting at the small desk in the room, staring at something and frowning.

“Oh come on, we’re not bad company.” Vic said as he entered.

Arden jumped, not having noticed he was no longer alone. He glanced around, startled. “Oh - sorry, no, it’s not you!” he said, folding the piece of paper on the desk slowly. “No, it’s... I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s a note that was on my desk when I got here. I think it’s addressed to me from... myself. But that makes no sense.”

“I doubt much makes sense right now Arden. We’ll help as best we can. Do you have questions?” Vic asked.

“I’m not sure where to start,” said Arden ruefully, with an expression that was equal parts Anders and somehow also Vic himself.

“Can I fill in what I know then?”

“Perhaps,” said Arden as he rose and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, gesturing to Invictus to take the chair. “I gather you and I know each other - and somehow, though I don’t quite grasp _how_ , we’re... the same person?”

“Oh boy… that’s a long story, hope you have time.” Vic launched into the improbable tale of two Anders and continued through their present.

“Wait... so... somehow we’re... both Hawke, from two different versions of Thedas - and you ended up in mine by accident, then I in yours, then - oh Maker, this is making my head hurt,” said Arden by the time he’d finished. “You mean, people from this Thedas and from the one I came from have been crossing back and forth like this for - what, years now? With events mirroring themselves?” He stared into space for a moment. “Maybe that’s why so much feels as though I _should_ remember it somehow. And why Skyhold feels familiar in some parts yet not in others. I must have visited it in my own Thedas at some point, but I guess some of the upgrades over the years have differed maybe.”

“Probably yes and whatever happened in Starkhaven messed up your memory further.” Vic added.

“I know what happened to me in Starkhaven,” said Arden bleakly. “Or at least, I remember enough of it. That part... I wish I could have lost that part of my memory entirely. I suspect that it wiped out whatever came before... or maybe I simply blocked everything of myself out just to survive.”

“More than likely, I know Anders has done it in the past. Are you well enough to see the others at dinner?” Vic asked carefully.

“Oh, I’m quite well in myself,” shrugged Arden. “Mostly just confused and a little frustrated that nothing is coming back to me. From what you’ve told me, back in my own Thedas I was in love with both Anders and Fenris, so I’m a little puzzled as to why my memory didn’t return when I saw them here. Or when you called me by my name. At the very least, I would have hoped my real name at least would _seem_ familiar when I heard it.” He sighed. “But at least now I understand why everyone kept trying to tell me I’m supposed to be dead - even if I can’t explain why I’m not.”

“Ah I see. Well, we’ll figure it out soon enough. Want to take a walk see if it helps?”

Arden shrugged. “Why not? Mind if we stop by the kitchens - I left my staff down there, and I should find out what became of my pack.” He grinned. “I didn’t have any chance to grab it when that Chantry sister dragged me away halfway through a mug of tea. I’d been looking forward to that hot drink for _hours_!”

“Oh, she must have thought you were Anders!” Vic grinned a bit. “Yes, let’s get you a hot drink and more clothes.” 

“She called me ‘Grand Enchanter’ - I may not be able to remember who I am, but I _do_ know that there’s no way on Thedas I could ever be an enchanter, much less a grand one!” Arden smirked.

“Nah that’s Anders title now. It’s apparently irked Prince Vael to no end and unfortunately, you bore the brunt of it. We’ll make him pay for that.” Vic snarled.

“I think it must have been word of Anders being given the title finally reaching Starkhaven that made him finally realise I wasn’t the man he wanted,” said Arden with a shrug as they headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. “That was when he told the guards to get rid of me. Just fortunate for me that they took pity on me and were in no mood to clear up after the templars. They let me take a swim in the Minanter rather than sully their own hands further. I should thank whoever it was who gave Anders the title; they likely saved my life. Not that I was really aware at that point that I even had a life, much that it were one worth saving.”

They reached the kitchens and Arden gave a relieved laugh. “Oh good, it’s right where I left it,” he exclaimed as they made their way towards the fire. “And my pack too - that’s a relief.”

“Yeah I’d be surprised if it was gone.” Vic said.

“I wouldn’t; I’ve been travelling as a caravan guard for weeks,” replied Arden with a shrug. He hefted the plain ironwood staff and gave it an almost fond glance before slinging it on his back.

“If they thought it was Anders’ things they’d not touch them. Come on, let’s get you settled and I’m guessing a hot bath wouldn’t go amiss?” Vic offered as he watched Arden grab a steaming mug on the way to him.

“Maker, a hot bath sounds like my idea of heaven,” Arden groaned. “I can quite honestly say I don’t remember the last time I actually had a proper hot bath. Not since before - well.”

“Alright it’s settled. Get you in the bath, more food and perhaps a nap? Then we can hopefully get Hal to not look like he’s seen a spectre as well.” Vic said as he snagged another mug of cider and herded the other Hawke up the stairs.

“You really know the way to a man’s heart, Invictus Hawke,” groaned Arden with a grin. “You know me better than I know myself right now, so I’m certainly not going to complain.”

Invictus just smiled as they went and let Arden enjoy his cider as he ran the bath for his alternate self.

The blond mage dropped his pack by the foot of his bed then set his staff near the window before downing the rest of the hot drink with pleasure. He tugged the tie from his hair and shook the dirty blond locks loose before he sat on the bed to start unbuckling his boots. He was glad the guest bathing chamber was so close to his own room. He pulled a set of clean clothes out of his pack, then wandered through to the bathing chamber where clouds of steam lightly fogged the air, curling up from the surface of the large tub that Invictus was straightening from with a grin.

Arden set his clean clothes down on a nearby stool then began to strip off his dirty travel garb. He barely gave his scars a glance as he pulled off his shirt, but he froze when Invictus suddenly cursed behind him in shock.

“It’s... it probably looks worse than it is,” Arden said quietly. “Some of the whip scars were old I think.”

“I’d already seen them,” said Invictus slowly as he moved towards the other man, staring at the livid marks overlaying the older, silvery scars. “You’d... had a near-fatal run-in with Ser Alrik at one point. But this... Arden, this looks bad. And I suspect it’s exactly as bad as it looks.”

Arden’s shoulders slumped as he threw the shirt aside. “I can’t remember most of what they did to me, which is... probably just as well,” he added, looking at the marks down his arms, the scarring about his wrists. “What I remember is bad enough.”

Invictus gently took hold of Arden’s shoulders and turned him around towards him. “I am going to find Sebastian and I’m going to make him pay,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Arden raised his eyes to meet Invictus’ stare. “I would settle for my memories back,” he said quietly.

“I know...just, forgive me for my anger right now.” Vic gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he nudged the slighter man towards the tub. “Will you be alright to bathe on your own?” 

Arden glanced back at Invictus. “I’m healed - well, physically, anyway. That came back to me quite naturally without my even thinking about it,” he shrugged. He paused, his hands on the lacings of his pants, then turned back to Invictus. “I... I can’t shake this feeling that... Invictus, did something once happened between us? I’m... forgive me, maybe I’m imagining it, I thought - something about the way you keep looking at me.”

That made Vic blush and glance away for a few moments. He looked to Arden and decided to tell him about their...fun. “Well, when you were trapped in my Kirkwall, this Thedas...you, me and Fenris had a long, rather debaucherous night. I’m afraid it caused all sorts of trouble when we got you back where you belonged, but neither of us regret that night Arden.” Vic looked down again as he waited for the blond’s reaction. 

“That would explain how you had seen my older scars then,” answered Arden slowly. “And I suppose, too, why Fenris fainted when he saw me.” He stripped off his pants; no point in being shy around a man who apparently had already seen pretty much all of him there was to be seen. He stepped into the steaming hot water then groaned in pleasure as he relaxed back into the tub. “Oh Maker. This feels so good.”

“I’ll be out there waiting on you, unless you want help...or something else?” Vic said as he leaned against the wall and gave Arden a sense of privacy.

“Depends on what you’re offering,” replied Arden without thinking, before dunking his head back underwater. He ran his fingers through his hair, loosening it out, before sitting back upright, water streaming down his back as he reached for the soap. His back was towards Invictus so he didn’t see the other man’s reaction.

Vic’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to reply before Arden popped back up. “I...um, do you think that’s a good idea? Also, I think my husbands might want to talk you out of it if you do think it’s a good idea.” 

Arden laughed mirthlessly. “I have no idea what would be a good idea and what wouldn’t, right now. I _do_ know that I’m willing to give anything a try if there’s the slightest chance it could bring back my memories - and after what feels like forever being tortured by templars, the thought of being touched with affection instead of to make me scream in pain is very, very tempting.” He lathered up the soap and began to work it through his hair. “Maker, how is it I _still_ have sand in my hair?” he muttered to himself.

“Um… maybe ask Anders what he would recommend? Though I can’t say whether he’d recommend sex as a cure for amnesia.” Vic said as he continued to look away from where Arden bathed. 

“He’d probably recommend doing things I’ve done before in the hopes that the familiar feelings bring something back,” said Arden. “But if he’s your husband... well, I can understand why he might not be too comfortable with that.” He shrugged as he finished working the soap through his hair, then took a deep breath before letting himself sink backwards beneath the water to rinse his hair off.

“It’s alright, once you’re dried off we can go find him and see what he thinks of all this. Then we’re supposed to have a dinner gathering for the Inquisitor’s wedding to Dorian.” Vic said with a smile.

Arden let himself drift for a moment, his eyes closed, enjoying the heat as it relaxed him and eased the aching in his joints. The cold of the mountain travel seemed to have sunk into them but the hot bath was helping him to gradually loosen up at last. Given half a chance, he realised, he could quite easily drift asleep - possibly not the safest thing to do. He hadn’t survived near-drowning in the Minanter only to drown in a bath tub, after all.

He pulled himself upright with a small groan. “I think I’m about done, unless you want to scrub my back for me,” he said teasingly as he glanced over his shoulder at Invictus for the first time since setting foot in the tub.

“I could if you want,” Vic offered shyly.

“I’d appreciate it,” said Arden as he pulled his wet hair forward over his shoulder. The white streak was much brighter and easier to see now the mage’s hair was clean. “I don’t think I can manage that part myself. My joints are - well, they don’t have quite the flexibility they used to, I suspect.” 

As Invictus moved over towards the tub, he glanced down at Arden’s shoulders and winced; given the scar tissue he could see, he wasn’t surprised the mage couldn’t wash his own back. He tried not to let his thoughts dwell on what exactly could have caused scarring like that. It looked like Arden could use Anders’ healing talents in more ways than one.

“We need to be sure you see Anders for some healing.” Vic said as he dried off the other mage’s back. Arden bit his lip to hold back a faint groan of pain and merely nodded; it took him a moment before he was able to slowly rise to step out of the tub.

“That would probably be a good idea, he conceded as he finished drying himself off then moved to the stool where he’d left his clothes. The bath had been relaxing, but its effects were all too fleeting; still, it had helped a little. He dressed as fast as he was able, then straightened, brushing damp hair back out of his face. 

“Thanks; I appreciated the help. I shouldn’t really take up your time like this - I gather it’s a busy time here at the moment.” He managed a small smile.

“Not a problem at all Arden, come on then you can get a nice long nap.” Vic said.

Arden nodded. “Probably a good idea; we pushed on all through the night once we got through the pass, to be certain we’d get here early. If Anders has a little time to spare I’d appreciate it.” He gestured for Invictus to lead the way as he dropped his clothes into the laundry hamper.

** *

Anders frowned as he felt carefully inside Arden’s shoulder joints. The other mage lay face-down upon the bed, his eyes closed, unable to see the healer’s expression although he was aware of the sensation of Anders’ magic flowing through his body.

Anders glanced up and his eyes met those of Invictus; he slowly shook his head, not liking what he could feel of the damage inside. “Arden, these injuries happened some months ago. They healed slowly; I take it they had you on magebane?”

“The whole time, yes,” replied Arden, not opening his eyes. “I don’t remember the damage originally occurring, but I remember they took the opportunity to worsen it every chance they got. I can remember at least two sessions on the rack.”

Anders swallowed and closed his eyes as he moved one hand slightly to focus more healing magic there. “That would have done it, yes,” he nodded, his voice carefully neutral.

“What can you do for him love?” Vic asked quietly.

“I think I can free up the joints and mitigate the worst of the damage, but it’s going to take several long sessions,” replied Anders, not opening his eyes as he moved over to the other shoulder. Arden let out an involuntary hiss of pain; Anders swiftly applied a nerve block and the other man slowly relaxed again under his hands. “I’m going to do as much as I can now, but this is going to take a lot of work to fix.”

“I have no idea how long I was there, but it makes sense it couldn’t be fixed in one go,” murmured Arden. “I appreciate this.”

“I could hardly leave you in this level of pain,” replied Anders as he opened his eyes and stared down at Arden. “Not when you went through all that because of me.”

“Anders, it’s not your fault stop blaming yourself.” Vic said as he watched Anders working.

“How can I not?” exclaimed Anders as he stared up at his husband. “Vic, they thought he was _me!_ They did this to him because they thought they were torturing _me_ , and I can’t think of anyone less deserving of that. If I hadn’t been made Grand Enchanter, the chances are they would have eventually killed him. How is that not my fault? I destroyed the Chantry. We both heard Sebastian’s threat against me.”

“Even in my world, as I understand from what you’ve said, he would have done it there too,” said Arden quietly. “It’s not your fault. This likely would have happened there as well. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess.”

Anders shook his head as he shifted his hands to the top of Arden’s spine. “I know you’re both trying to make me feel less guilty, but I’m afraid it’s not working,” he said softly. “I just -” He broke off as he brushed Arden’s damp hair aside then stared down at the old scar that circled the other mage’s throat. “They... hung you? That’s... that’s a scar from rope.”

“I don’t remember,” said Arden, though his voice had gone curiously flat as he opened his eyes.

“Maker… kill them, I’m going to kill them all.” Vic snapped as he began to pace around.

“No... no, I remember now,” said Anders slowly. “That first time you came to our Thedas. You came to see me in my clinic, and I saw your scars. I remember staring at that one in particular, and you said -”

“They hang apostates,” said Arden quietly, his voice still flat as he stared into space.

“It was -”

“Ser Alrik,” breathed Arden.

Anders stared down at him, eyes widening in startlement. “Arden?” The other mage didn’t answer. “Arden, are you - Maker, Vic, he’s shaking!”

“Let’s get him into the bed and wrapped up in a blanket. I’ll get tea started.” Vic said.

Anders was pulling Arden upright, the other mage trembling violently. Arden was stiff, and Anders eventually gave up trying to persuade him to lie down in the bed and instead settled for pulling a blanket around him then wrapped his arms around Arden, holding him close. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe, you’re safe now,” he said soothingly. “That was long ago, and Alrik is dead. Long dead. He can’t hurt you any more.”

“Alrik... I remember... not everything, but... that, he, what he did....” Arden clenched his eyes shut as he shuddered. “Maker. It’s coming back.”

“Take it easy Arden, here sip slowly.” Vic held the tea out to the other Hawke and waited for him to stop shaking.

It took some time for Arden to finally calm down enough to take the tea and sip it slowly as the tremors abated. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed, when he could finally trust himself to speak. “Suddenly remembering _that_ part of my past, on top of everything the templars did to me - I wasn’t ready for that.”

“It’s ok, we’re here for you Arden. One breath at a time.” Vic replied.

Arden nodded and took another sip of his tea. “It’s... strange, I still can’t remember much at all, but suddenly _that_ just came flooding back. I have no idea why, but feeling Anders touch that scar, I just suddenly had the vivid memory of bending over the table in his clinic the last time he touched the scar, and then as I remembered telling him how it got there I - it was for a moment as though I were back in that cell, Alrik laughing, the noose tightening around my throat. But....” He lifted his head and stared at Invictus. “I remember who I am. I’m Arden Hawke. I’m - I _was_ \- Champion of Kirkwall. But I have no idea how I got here, and so much is still just this blank haze in my head.”

“We’ll try to help you fill in the blanks. You want something else to eat?” Vic asked.

Arden shook his head. “I know I should, but... Maker, I just feel exhausted now. I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“We should get you lying down again, and then I’ll work more healing on you,” said Anders firmly. “And then you should sleep.”

“I can’t take your bed,” protested Arden, though he didn’t resist when Anders pushed him back against the pillows this time.

“You can and you will,” said Anders as he drew the blanket up to Arden’s chest. “Now, close your eyes and try to relax. And don’t worry if you fall asleep in the middle of my healing you; it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s fallen asleep on me.”

Arden shrugged then obediently closed his eyes as Anders took the mug and set it aside, then returned to healing him once more.

Invictus bit his knuckles as he watched Anders work. He wanted to yell, pace, scream as he recalled Arden’s reaction.

Arden’s breathing slowed and deepened as the mage slowly slipped into sleep long before Anders finally straightened with a small wince as his own back protested too long spent hunched over, lost in healing. He pressed a hand against the small of his back and channelled a little healing there to ease his own stiffness, then got to his feet and made his way over to Invictus and hugged him silently, burying his face against the side of the Champion’s neck. He gave a low sigh.

Vic wrapped his arms around Anders and let his husband use him for a pillow and a shoulder to cry on as they watched Arden sleep. “I’m sorry love, so sorry.” Vic whispered.

“I’m glad at least he remembers who he is now, but Maker - what a way to remember,” sighed Anders. “And what he’s been through - Vic, I don’t think I dare tell you just what the extent of his injuries were. You’re already so furious.”

“I can take a guess, and I don’t think anything can make me more furious than I am love.” Vic whispered.

“Vic... some of those injuries, the age of them... I think he must have fallen out of a rift into our Thedas shortly after Adamant. And I think Sebastian must have caught him very soon after. Sebastian has been slowing torturing him to death for over a year; no wonder Arden lost all memory of who he was. It was bad enough for me going through a year in solitude; I didn’t have templar torturers deliberately working me over to _that_ extent - and even then, I came out of that with my mind barely intact.”

“I’m going to kill Sebastian, slowly as I can then let Fenris play with him as a dragon.” Vic snarled.

“I’m a healer, but... love, I cannot find it in me to tell you not to,” confessed Anders. “Did he... did he ever tell you the role Sebastian played in his treatment at Alrik’s hands?”

“Yes, yes he did.” Vic growled.

“He didn’t tell me all the details, but I could guess,” said Anders. “I sometimes think Justice killed Alrik too fast. Though, Maker, I wish I had regained control before Ella -”

“Daddy, Daddy! Look what I can do!” called Ellowynne as she ran into the room excitedly; she stopped when she saw her father in Invictus’ embrace. “Oops. Bad timing, Uncle Vic? Is Daddy OK?”

“No sweetheart, he’s a bit upset. Come on, let’s visit Uncle Fenris and Zevran for a bit yeah?” Vic offered.

Ellowynne ran up to them and flung her arms around Anders. “OK,” she said after a moment before she glanced around and then stared at the sleeping Arden. “Daddy, why does than man look like you?” she asked, startled. 

Anders disentangled himself from Invictus and turned around. “He _does_ look like me, doesn’t he? Apart from that white streak in his hair. We’re not related though - it’s just coincidence.” He put his arm around the young girl’s shoulders. “His name is Arden. Do you remember me telling you how Uncle Fenris’ skin hurts him because of a bad man?”

She nodded. “And Uncle Fenris killed him so he can’t hurt anyone else again,” she answered. “Did a bad man hurt Arden? Is that why you were using healing magic?”

“A _very_ bad man did it to him, yes,” nodded Anders. His daughter looked up at him.

“Is Arden going to kill him, Daddy?” she asked innocently.

“I don’t think so,” said Anders uncomfortably. “But I think Uncle Vic and Uncle Fenris might want to have a talk with him.”

“Oh we definitely do.” Vic said.

“Run along with Uncle Vic and go find Uncle Fenris and Uncle Zevran,” said Anders gently. “I need to keep an eye on Arden and make sure he’s alright.”

“Come on sweetheart, maybe Fenris will take us for a ride yeah?” Vic said.

“Oh, do you think he would?” exclaimed Ellowynne hopefully. She glanced up at Anders. “Can I show you what I learned later, Daddy?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he smiled fondly.

“If he’s up for it, he’ll take us around Ellowynne. Come on, let’s let daddy rest yeah?” Vic said as he offered his hand to his step-daughter.

Anders shot him a thankful look as Invictus led his daughter away, then sank down into the chair near the bed. A long healing session like that - particularly dealing with old, mostly-healed injuries - always took it out of him, and he was exhausted after such an emotionally-fraught morning. He closed his eyes briefly, meaning to only rest them for a few minutes; a little while later, his head drooped as he slid into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends and family return in time for the celebration. Zevran is not himself, and Fenris is nervous.

Dorian poured another cup of coffee for himself then glanced up at Meneris, one eyebrow arching in silent query as he gestured with the pot towards the elf’s empty cup.

“Hmm, oh yes please. After last night and the shock this morning I should have a potion at the same time.” Meneris replied.

“Alas, I do not have Anders’ talents of healing,” shrugged Dorian. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for potions, Amatus. Myself, I shall be content with the restorative powers of good Nevarran coffee.”

“I’m not sure coffee has restorative properties da’len. Considering the debauchery of last night, I’m surprised any of us are awake even now.” Meneris said as he sat back with his mug and a tired expression.

“Operating on spinal reflex I think,” mused Dorian before taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re all such lightweights, apart from Fenris - though I was impressed at how well Anders was keeping up. I thought Fenris would surely drink me under the table.” The Altus sounded entirely too perky and cheerful for someone who’d put away so much wine the previous evening.

Meneris gave him a dirty look as he refilled his cup. “What did you take when I wasn’t looking to sound so damned smug? I’m surprised Fenris wasn’t puking his guts out when he woke up on our floor.” 

Dorian chuckled. “Hair of the dog, my love,” he confided. “Just enough to take the edge off a little. You ought to try it.”

“If I so much as smell a drop of alcohol before the wedding, I will throw up on you.” Meneris griped. He finally glanced to his betrothed and sighed. “What do we do about Arden? I didn’t think Fenris was capable of fainting, I think he dented the floor.”

“I should guess there’s some past history between the two,” shrugged Dorian. “It would explain in part his reaction after you all came out of the Fade and told us he’d stayed behind. As for what we do... there, I must confess, I have no idea. What does one _do_ with someone who can’t remember a thing? Best leave him to Anders, I think.” He shook his head. “If not for that white streak in his hair, you’d swear he and Anders were twins. Uncanny really. No wonder Prince Vael mistook him for Anders. I should have a word with Josie about that if I were you; Starkhaven backed down over invading Kirkwall but they’re still a significant enough power with the rest of the Free Marches behind them that we can’t afford to make any rash moves against them.”

“They assaulted Arden in a most grievous manner because they thought he was Anders. Considering his station and place in the Inquisition, that tells me they _should_ worry about rash moves. Perhaps you can help send Fenris and Invictus to call upon him? I don’t think dragons are a common sight in Starkhaven. But if one happens to have a bite out of their prince...well, who are we to interfere?” Meneris grinned at him and winked before he turned to his desk to clear off some paperwork. 

Dorian sighed and shook his head. “We have no idea when Prince Vael’s forces captured Arden, Meneris,” he pointed out. “It might have been as far back as just after Adamant - in which case, who was Anders? Just one more mage conscripted to the Inquisition’s cause. If any other mage - excepting myself, Solas or Vivienne - had been the one taken, I’m sorry to say it but I doubt we would even have noticed. How many were taken by the Venatori and made Tranquil to make those damnable ocularum, after all, before they made the mistake of taking Anders and Hal? You can’t stage retribution on Starkhaven for who Anders is _now_ , for something done long before he ever was even a consideration for that title, love. That’s simply not how politics is done.” He sighed.

“Do tell me more Dorian. I’d love advice on how to handle it. If Vic and Fenris take a trip to Starkhaven outside their duties, I will not say a word.” Meneris replied drily.

Dorian closed his eyes briefly as he heard the slight edge to his betrothed’s voice, then reached for the pot of coffee to top up his mug. “All I’m saying is you probably ought to discuss it with Josie before we take any _official_ action,” he replied carefully as he added a small dash of brandy to his coffee.

“Then it’s unofficial if responding officially is off the books. Come, we have a final fitting today before the ceremony. Please leave the brandy here love.” Meneris signed the last contract on his stack, finished his coffee and went to the basin to splash cold water on his face in an attempt to clear the fog that wouldn’t leave him.

Dorian pulled a face but set aside the bottle of brandy as he finished his coffee. “I suggest we call on Hal or Anders before our fitting; you still look rather less than bright-eyed, Amatus,” he suggested as he got to his feet.

“I drank more than I have in my life, I just hope I wake up in time for the ceremony tomorrow.” Meneris grumped as he took Dorian’s hand, his thumb grazing the thin band he’d gifted the Altus when they made their betrothal public knowledge.

“Definitely calling on Hal or Anders then,” decided Dorian. “Particularly as I for one intend to enjoy myself at our wedding feast, and it wouldn’t be quite the same without sampling some of those marvellous Antivan wines that arrived yesterday.” He made his way over to the elf and bent down to bestow a kiss upon his cheek.

“I think I could go a month without drinking again.” Meneris said as he leaned up for the kiss. “Come on then, let’s get me squared away and then to our fitting.”

Dorian pulled a face again. “What an appalling thought,” he murmured. “Come along then, Amatus.” He smiled.

Meneris let Dorian lead him to the Infirmary, but when they didn’t find Anders there, they went to his rooms, the Inquisitor a bit reticent to bother him in his private space. “Perhaps we should leave him be since he’s not working.”

“Nonsense, it won’t take long,” said Dorian as he knocked on Anders’ door. There was no answer for a minute; Dorian frowned slightly and was about to knock again when Anders opened the door, looking slightly disoriented, his hair slightly tousled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you knock at first. Come in; what’s wrong?” he asked as he stepped back and waved them in, rubbing his eyes blearily with one hand. “Don’t mind Arden - he’ll sleep for hours. I had to do a long healing session on him; it’ll take several such sessions to deal with all the damage that was inflicted during his imprisonment. I think he was held captive for over a year - likely since just after Adamant.”

Meneris felt his marking flare for a moment before he got himself under control. “I… see.” he replied as he looked to the other man, who could damn well be Anders’ twin if not for the white stripe of hair. 

Dorian’s eyes darted to the brief flash of green light with alarm. He had thought that with the Breach closed a second time - and for good - and with Corypheus gone, the mark in his lover’s hand would remain dormant; but if anything, it seemed to be even more reactive than it had been whilst Corypheus was loose. He wondered if he should say anything; the look in Meneris’ eyes had him holding his tongue however.

“He regained some of his memories earlier - at least enough to recall who he is, if not everything that happened to him,” said Anders. “The memories weren’t good ones, I’m afraid, but at least it’s a start.” He glanced at Meneris. “I’m sorry - there was something you wanted, wasn’t there?”

“More like what Dorian insisted on.” Meneris said as he folded his arms and tried to get himself calmed. 

“We have a last fitting this afternoon before the ceremony tomorrow,” said Dorian, smoothing his moustache absently with one hand. “It would be more pleasant all round if Meneris were a little more... clear-headed.”

“Of course,” said Anders, lifting a hand and gesturing as his hand glowed blue; the elven Inquisitor felt the headache that had been plaguing him all morning lift in an instant, his thinking suddenly clear and unfuddled.

“Thank you, Anders,” Meneris said before he drew his gaze from Arden. “Will he be alright when we are having dinner for the wedding party? I don’t want to leave him alone for long.” 

“He should be able to attend dinner, I think,” shrugged Anders. “He apparently was awake all night; the caravan pushed on through the pass without stopping in order to be here early, as I understand it. He’ll sleep deeply through the afternoon I think, and then wake starving in time for dinner. That kind of deep healing tends to leave one ravenous once the body’s initial needs for sleep have been satisfied.”

“I see, well be sure there’s a place set if he wants to join us. It might be jarring to be surrounded by strangers, celebrating when you barely remember yourself.” Meneris said quietly.

Anders nodded. “And after a year imprisoned,” he added sombrely. “Believe me, that part - I know only too well. I’ll make sure he’s sat close to an exit and can escape if he needs to be by himself for a while.”

“Again, assuming he won’t want to be to himself for a bit. We’ll see you later, time to let the seamstress yank on me for a couple of hours to be sure everything is snug.” Meneris said tiredly.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad love,” said Dorian as he gave Anders a nod of farewell then turned to follow the elf. “After all, she’ll also no doubt be looking forward to jabbing me repeatedly with her pins....”

“You enjoy this frippery, I’d be satisfied with wearing my dress armor and calling it done.” Meneris replied as he took Dorian’s hand in his unmarked one. “Sorry...I’m still tired I think.”

“Amatus, once this wedding is over, I’d like it if you have Anders look at that mark of yours,” said the Altus quietly as they made their way back towards Meneris’ rooms to await the arrival of the seamstress. “I’m worried for you.”

“Why do you want Anders to look at my mark? It’s fine, the breach is closed. Besides, we have plans to celebrate far, far away from here for a while. I am not going to have our honeymoon interrupted,” Meneris said. 

“Meneris, if your mark is fine, why does it seem to flash just as much as it ever did before?” asked Dorian as they climbed the stairs back up to the Inquisitor’s rooms. As he opened the door to find the seamstress already waiting, he bit back a chuckle. He turned away and reached for the wine as the seamstress advanced on Meneris.

 

***

Fenris entered the room with Invictus on one side, and Hal practically glued to him on the other side. He gave Zevran a smile and a once over as he took his seat. He’d put on a dark red tunic with black leather pants for the evening, with Hal almost a match but in reverse. “How is our returned Hawke doing?” he asked when he failed to spot Arden.

“He’s over by the fire, at Varric’s table,” replied Anders. “Varric pretty much took him in hand the moment we got here.” The Grand Enchanter was dressed in an elaborate set of robes in black samite and silver brocade in ornate Orlesian style.

“He seems very nervous, no?” remarked Zevran as he guided Ellowyne to her chair next to her father. The young girl was excited to be allowed to sit to table with them all; she was dressed in a gown in the latest Orlesian style in silver samite that complimented her father’s robes.

“I’d be ...I was the same way when I was healing after my markings. If he will speak to me, I’ll spend time with him after dinner.” Fenris said as he felt a tug on his arm and a wave from Ellowynne. “You look very nice, but you are still a mischievous little sprite,” he said to his step-daughter.

She grinned at him. “Uncle Fenris, are you and Uncle Vic going to kill the man who hurt Daddy’s friend?” she asked him. As the elf gawped at her, she leaned forward. “Can I watch?”

“Ellowynne!” exclaimed Anders, appalled.

“No, that is not something little girls should want to see. Mythal, save me from curious children. It’s not polite dinner conversation, you don’t to upset your father’s friend now do you?” Fenris said with a glance at Zevran then back to her. 

“No, you may not watch and I think your father is going to have words for Uncle Zevran later. Maker have mercy on him.” Vic said as he watched the way Anders seemed to be stuck between wanting to take her out of the room and having words with Zevran at the table.

Zevran looked up, his eyes widening as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. “It is not I who suggested such a thing to her!” he protested.

“Arden isn’t even looking at us!” said Ellowynne. “Look, he’s talking to Uncle Varric!”

“Zevran, you and I are going to be having a little talk later,” murmured Anders over the head of his daughter.

“But...” Zevran sighed. “My reputation has been at work again. I am slandered most cruelly by my own husbands, who would think such things of me.” He pressed a hand over his heart melodramatically. “Ah, to think that they would think so poorly of me, to accuse me thus!”

Anders covered his face with his hand, fighting hard not to smirk. “Zev, stop it,” he muttered.

“But I am _wounded_ you would think I would stoop to corrupting the youthful mind of your daughter!” continued Zevran, regarding him with large eyes.

“Zevran, _stop_ ,” protested Anders, unable to hide his smile now. “Maker, you’re even worse than Fenris at the puppy-dog eyes.”

“Not as good as your daughter is,” muttered Hal, on the other side of Fenris, as he reached for a glass of wine.

“There are no puppy-dog eyes, I have told you this for past several years.” Fenris muttered as he glanced at his spouses. “Besides, she beats you out for soulful, please do as I ask looks.” 

“Very true, I thought Anders could give some puppy eyed looks. She’s got you beat by a mile.” Vic added. 

Anders lowered his hand and gave his husband such an utterly woebegone look that Zevran reached out unthinking to lay a hand over Anders’ as it rested upon the white tablecloth.

“ _Carissimi_ , what is wrong?” he exclaimed, and then groaned as the others burst out laughing, even Anders grinning. “Ah, you mock this poor Antivan boy!” he exclaimed.

Their laughter was interrupted by a brilliant flash of light; Fenris felt his brands suddenly flare into incandescence briefly. He rose to his feet, eyes widening as he stared down at the two figures who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the great hall; a dusky-skinned woman with glossy black hair pulled back beneath a blue scarf, clad in white leather corset over leather pants and knee-high boots, the hilts of a pair of long fighting knives visible over her shoulders, and her tall elf companion who was likewise clad in leather pants and knee-high boots, paired with a dark crimson sleeveless tunic that showed off his toned muscles and the elaborate tattoos down his arms - the one side silvery lyrium swirls, the other half blue-black swirls that mirrored the lyrium. He wore a pair of long, curved fighting daggers upon his hips, the hilts bound in black leather and the pommels shaped like jaguar heads in distinct Rivaini style. As the red-haired elf brushed a long white braid back over his shoulder, Fenris was already moving towards him. The woman was staring around the hall, one hand on her hip, as she glanced up to the high table and grinned.

Fenris stopped before the other elf as he grinned and barely restrained himself from bear hugging the other elf. “You’re here...I’m so happy to see you.” Fenris looked over at Isabela and he let his markings flare just a bit. “What brings you here?” he asked asked warily.

“I wanted to come give my congratulations to the new Grand Enchanter personally,” replied Isabela with a grin. “And make sure a certain recent crewmate got here safely of course.” She turned towards the table where Varric and Arden sat; the blond mage was already rising to his feet and advancing towards her, a relieved grin on his face.

Nakusa regarded his younger brother with a wry grin. “Two years at sea and I just get a ‘happy to see you’?” he teased; suddenly Fenris found himself engulfed by a bear hug from the other elf. “It has been too long, brother; forgive me?” he murmured.

“I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t hurt you. It’s alright, there’s nothing to forgive, I am so happy to see you Nakusa...so happy.” Fenris returned his hug even as he heard the others behind them. He wasn’t eager to let go.

“The pain is more bearable now. That last healing work Anders did upon me made a great deal of difference, though I need to speak with him about that,” replied Nakusa quietly. He pulled away slightly and stared at Fenris, and then his eyes widened slightly as he lifted a hand to brush Fenris’ hair back from his forehead. “But this... brother, this is... Fenris, something has changed, your markings - this is different, I... how?” His pale blue eyes held a look of confusion as he stared at the new swirls and lines of lyrium, tilting his head back as he lifted his gaze to where the trio of dots had become a “v”. 

Suddenly he went very still as the difference in their heights finally registered. His lips parted, but no words escaped his lips, the scarred elf suddenly struck dumb by the change in his brother. He shook his head slowly; finally, only one word managed to escape his pale lips.

“ _How?_ ”

“That, brother is a long story I will tell you after dinner. Come, let me introduce you to your...brothers-in-law.” Fenris grinned again at the look on Nakusa’s face as he held up his hand and showed him the rings. “It _has_ been two years.” 

Invictus remained where he was, wary of Isabela, even after a couple of years. After all, the last time he’d seen her she was still not on his Satinalia list.

Isabela had flung her arms around Arden’s neck and leaned up to claim his mouth with a kiss; the amnesiac Hawke looked a little stunned but pleased as he let his hands drift up to settle on her hips. A moment later she’d turned and let out a loud squeal of delight as she released him only to fling herself at Zevran as the Antivan elf stepped down from the dais and managed to take two steps towards her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard as Zevran managed to steady himself with a hand on the back of a nearby chair.

“Daddy, who’s the pirate lady?” exclaimed Ellowynne excitedly. Anders smiled. 

“A very old friend, sweetheart,” he replied as he rose to his feet. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Fenris came over and snarled at Isabela. “Still the same I see. Perhaps you can keep your hands off my husband, Isabela?” 

The pirate captain pressed her forehead against Zevran’s and gave him a roguish grin. “Someone’s jealous,” she said quietly in a sing-song voice before she eyed Fenris and her grin turned shark-like. “So not a pretty look for you, sweet thing,” she told the elf frankly before she drew away from Zevran slowly. The Antivan elf winced slightly, one hand stealing up to rub his left shoulder absently.

“Isabela, it is true,” he shrugged. “I am indeed an honest man now - or as honest as you might expect for the Inquisition’s Spymaster.”

Fenris caught himself before he showed Isabela how much he had changed in stature, if not other ways. He instead steered Nakusa to the table and to Invictus. “Vic, you remember my brother, Nakusa?” 

“Of course, welcome back.” Vic said as he gave them both a sappy grin. He was happy to see Fenris so pleased. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a plate.” 

“You... you have... a brother?” said Hal, his voice not much more than a stunned whisper.

“Yes. I’m guessing your Fenris didn’t? Or ...did you not run across him?” Fenris asked as he glanced at Hal who seemed to be quietly stunned.

“We had no idea,” said Hal softly. “Or that... that Anders had a daughter in Ostwick....” The red-head suddenly lurched to his feet. “Oh Maker. Maker. I... Arden, he, I....”

“What do you mean? Is it possible Anders there had the same experiences?” Fenris asked. 

Hal stared at him, and then a faint whimper, halfway between a giggle and a sound of pain, escaped his lips. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But he - he’s dead... but if he had a daughter....” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, I....” He dropped back into his seat, his eyes closed. “Ignore me. I need... I just need to pull myself together,” he murmured as though to himself.

A trumpet suddenly rang out and silence rippled out through the hall as all eyes turned towards the main doors.

“Her Grace, the Divine Victoria!” called out a herald. As one, everyone in the hall rose to their feet. Fenris realised that Meneris and Dorian had entered at some point whilst they were distracted, and Meneris now stood alone in the middle of the hall as the great door opened and a figure robed all in white slowly entered.

Leliana paused upon the threshold, bestowing a warm smile upon the gathered throng before she strode swiftly to take Meneris’ hands. She beamed up at him, and then they hugged briefly before Meneris turned and began to lead her towards her place at the high table.

“I didn’t realize it was going to be such a formal affair, I’d have dressed in something nicer.” Fenris said as he kept an arm around Hal to steady the young mage.

Meneris got Leliana seated before he and Dorian joined her. “Welcome most Holy, good to see you again.” 

“Please, no need to be so formal, Meneris,” she smiled as she extended a hand to Dorian; the Altus bent over her hand and kissed her ring reverently, though the wink he gave her as he straightened was anything but reverential.

“Leliana - forgive me, Divine Victoria,” Anders corrected himself as he dropped to one knee before her.

“Anders, no - please, I will have no bowing the knee tonight!” exclaimed Leliana. “Tonight, we are but friends gathered for a joyous celebration, no?” 

“Daddy, the Divine knows your name??” exclaimed Ellowynne in a loud whisper, and a ripple of laughter spread through the hall.

“Please - Anders, sit here to my side, with your charming daughter,” suggested Leliana with a warm smile. “Meneris, don’t let everyone stand on ceremony. Tonight I am not the Divine - I am just your friend Leliana.” She smiled warmly. 

“You heard her, you lot sit down and enjoy dinner.” Meneris called out before he sat with Dorian, sure to take his betrothed’s hand as they enjoyed being with their friends.

“Maker she’s going to be spoiled before the year is out.” Vic called.

“Oh no she’s not!” Anders called back, to much laughter as Ellowynne mock-pouted.

“I think young Ellowynne has her father’s wits,” murmured Zevran as he returned to sit between Anders and Invictus as the Champion took his place at the table.

“Maker help us all,” murmured Anders. “You never knew her mother.” 

“She won’t be spoiled, even with your other spouse doing his best to make that happen.” Fenris muttered before he felt an elbow in his side. “Watch it Zevran, unless you want me to throw up on you. Dinner is not agreeing with me.” he murmured.

“ _Carissimi?_ ” said Zevran softly, his tone contrite. His golden eyes were regarding Fenris with a slightly worried expression, even as he rubbed his shoulder absently.

“Are you alright, Zevran?” asked Anders with a faint frown.

“Hmm? Oh, it is nothing,” shrugged the elf, as he reached for his glass of wine.

“If you say so,” said Anders dubiously. “If your shoulder is troubling you, you should let me take a look at it later,” he added.

“Your daughter was quite exuberant this afternoon,” shrugged the Antivan with a grin.

“Daddy, I disarmed Uncle Zevran!” said Ellowynne excitedly.

“Only once!” said Zevran hastily. “And she cheated.”

“Using ice isn’t cheating!” the young girl protested.

“Ellowynne, what have I told you about using magic?” said Anders with a faint frown.

“Nonsense, the child must take her advantages where she can,” shrugged Zevran. He sipped his wine slowly.

Fenris said nothing but he kept glancing at Zevran as they sat through dinner. “I’ll massage that for you when we return to our rooms. It’s an old injury that plagues you more than a child’s success against you. She is young and does not have strength enough to make you wince like that.” 

Zevran sighed quietly. “I am not as young as I once was,” he smiled ruefully.

Anders snorted. “Thank you, that makes me feel _so_ much better,” he muttered. His eyes brightened as the serving staff began to bring out the platters of food.

“I’m older than both of you, and trust me I feel it on most mornings.” Fenris said as he nudged his plate away and got more tea. “I suppose it would be rude to leave as soon as Leliana arrives? I’d rather catch up with you, brother, and show you around,” he added to Nakusa. 

“I’d rather leave anyway, Isabela doesn’t make me feel particularly safe even if I am First Enchanter.” Vic added. 

Anders stared at Fenris. “I’m forty-three, love,” he said quietly. “And I can tell you that your body is... it’s far more youthful than mine. And... the Divine... you don’t recognise her? It’s Leliana, love.” He dropped his gaze to his plate as one of the servers began serving roast boar and vegetables. He glanced up at the servant with an absent smile. Beside him, Ellowynne was chattering nineteen-to-the-dozen with Leliana, oblivious to her father’s sudden drop in mood. 

“I know it’s Leliana, I was there when she was raised to her post. Let’s not argue, I’m just eager to catch up with my sibling.” Fenris rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You’re right...I am misremembering the dates on my ...bill of sale. It feels like I’m older than you some days though.”

“You’re an elf, love,” said Anders gently as he glanced up at the white-haired warrior. “And I’m... I was a Warden. What I am now, I have no idea but... well.” He dropped his gaze. “Forget me, this is supposed to be a happy occasion,” he shrugged. “I’m just tired still.”

“Me too, none of us slept well and Arden’s reappearance threw us all for a loop.” Fenris sipped at his water as he watched the others then glanced to his brother. “You’re looking good Nakusa, life at sea agrees with you.”

Nakusa grinned as he looked up from the plate of roast boar that had just been set before him. “You don’t know the half of it,” he confided. “Any chance we can talk later? There’s a lot we have to catch up on.”

There was little talk for the next few minutes as people turned their attention to the meal; a quiet murmur of conversation throughout the hall slowly rose in volume as the edge of people’s hunger was sated. People began to relax, laugh and chat as the wine flowed.

Anders let his gaze roam across the hall; he suddenly froze, then glanced to Invictus. “Vic. The templar by the doors. To the right. Tell me I’m not seeing things and that’s... that’s really Carver?”

“I’m sorry what?” Vic asked as he he turned around and nearly swooned. “Maker… it _is_ him. If it’s not he’s got a twin besides Bethy.” 

Anders swallowed hard. “Looks like he’s had a few promotions,” he observed. “That’s Knight-Commander armour, isn’t it? Though... huh. Just... just remember you technically still outrank him, love,” he tried to smile, even as he reminded himself of that same fact. He dropped his gaze to his plate for a moment, then closed his eyes for a moment before he turned to Invictus. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I’ll ask Cullen to have him relieved from duty to come join us - you haven’t had the chance to talk to him in years.” He stared at Invictus, waiting for the mage to nod or shake his head.

Invictus hadn’t moved; he just stared at Carver as if the other Hawke couldn’t be really there. He finally realized Anders had spoken but he didn’t take his gaze from his younger brother. “I don’t know if he even wants to speak with me, Anders,” he said quietly. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, and it’s been years.”

Anders leaned back in his chair and gestured to Cullen. The Commander glanced up then rose to come bend down to listen as Anders murmured to him. He glanced towards the door then back at Anders and nodded before moving away to speak to one of his men.

A few minutes later, as Invictus watched, another templar moved over to speak to his brother. The dark-haired templar bowed his head for a moment then glanced up sharply to stare at the elder Hawke before he slowly nodded, once. The other templar took his place as Carver Hawke began to walk slowly up the length of the great hall towards the dais.

A servant set an extra place at the the table with an apologetic look at Hal; the red-haired healer merely moved over slightly as an extra place was set, and then Carver was sitting down next to his brother.

“Vic,” he said quietly, a strained note to his voice. “It’s... been a while.”

Invictus felt light headed as he glanced at Carver then the others. “Carver...it’s been ...years. I’m sorry.” he said quietly as he tried to decide between hugging his sibling or running away and locking himself in his room.

Fenris glanced at Nakusa before he moved to sit next to his brother and let Vic and Carver speak. He leaned in and explained in Tevene as well he could before he turned back to his husband, just in case he was needed.

Carver seemed to be equally as uncomfortable as his brother as he set his templar helmet down beneath his chair.

“It has,” he nodded slowly. “You’re... well?” He darted a sidelong glance at the elder Hawke before he reached for the glass of wine the servant set before him.

“Daddy, who’s that?” asked Ellowynne, staring at Carver. Anders swallowed hard.

“That’s... that’s Uncle Vic’s brother Carver,” he said slowly.

“Uncle Vic’s brother?” said Ellowynne slowly. “Oh! So you’re my uncle Carver!” She stared at the startled templar with a grin.

“I... I... guess so?” said Carver slowly, staring at the young girl. She grinned at him; he found himself hesitantly grinning back. “Vic, I didn’t know we... we? We have a niece?”

“Anders’...daughter, we’re married. So yes, niece.” Vic stammered as he tried to move, or do something besides stare at Carver like he was going to disappear any moment. 

“Vic, maybe you two should find somewhere to talk? This isn’t the most private space.” Fenris suggested.

“If I could get my legs to work...sure.” Vic replied absently.

“It’s... It’s OK,” said Carver slowly. “Um. Hi. Er....”

“Ellowynne,” supplied the young girl helpfully with a big grin.

“Ellowynne,” nodded Carver. “That’s... that’s a sweet name... yeah, I’m your... Uncle Carver, I... guess?” He gave the young girl a small grin. “Hey,” he said as the look in his eyes softened a little. “You almost remind me of my sister a little. So....” He glanced at Vic. “Married? You and Anders?” His eyes flicked to the blond Grand Enchanter, who was finding the contents of his wine glass suddenly fascinating.

“yeah, I...we got married…” Vic said before he closed his eyes and rested his head on the table. “That was not the best way to tell you that. I’m sorry, Carver.” 

Carver stared at his brother, then at Anders again. “Oh. So... you... you’re....”

“Invictus and I, yes. And Fenris. And Zevran,” said Anders quietly.

The templar glanced to the other men, his eyes widening. Fenris’ eyes were on his plate; Zevran shrugged, unashamed.

“Oh,” said Carver. “Um. Huh.” He scratched his head slowly. “Huh. I never saw that coming.” He reached for his glass of wine.

“Uncle Carver, are you a templar?” asked Ellowynne.

“Last I looked,” nodded Carver. “Knight-Commander, actually. I serve the Divine.”

“Bet my daddy could beat you in a fight!” she grinned.

“Ellowynne,” groaned Anders.

“Well, yeah,” said Carver unexpectedly. “He’s the Grand Enchanter. Of course he could. Your daddy outranks me.”

Fenris laughed before a glare from Invictus made him cover his mouth. 

“Ellowynne, your uncle Carver is tired sweetheart. Let’s not talk about fighting alright? Maybe you should get to bed soon little girl. You have a busy day tomorrow, we all do.” Vic suggested.

“Oh, let her stay for dessert.,” Fenris said without a hint of the deviousness in his voice.

“Daddy!!” said Ellowynne plaintively.

“You can stay, sweet-heart,” aid Anders gently. “But Daddy and Uncle Carver aren’t going to fight.” He turned deliberately to Leliana. “Leliana, perhaps it would be appropriate for me to pay an official state visit to you once things are settled?”

“But of course!” said Leliana with a smile. “Ellowynne, you would love to come visit me in Val Royeaux, wouldn’t you, little one?” The young girl’s eyes lit up as she turned back to her father.

“Daddy, can we??”

“Of course, sweet-heart,” he said with a gentle smile. He glanced over at Invictus with a look that plainly said the dinner’s end couldn’t come soon enough for him.

“I think dessert should come sooner than later, yes Inquisitor?” Vic asked plaintively.

“Oh sure, you all can leave when you want… we’ve been at this a while and I’m sure that I won’t get much sleep either from last minute things or nerves. You’re already kind of tied up tomorrow too, so leave while you can, First Enchanter.” Meneris had the nerve to wink at Invictus before he turned back to Leliana.

“Have you eaten enough?” Anders asked his daughter quietly. “Alright, dessert it is then.” He gestured to one of the servants.

Plates were being cleared throughout the hall as a range of desserts were being brought out and served. Further down the high table, there was a squeal of delight from Josephine as several Antivan dainties were set out. Zevran glanced up from his wine and stared at the dish set before them, and his eyes grew misty for a moment before he nodded to the servant who waited to serve them.

“Zevran?” said Anders softly; the elf shook his head.

“It is nothing. Pay me no heed,” the Antivan replied.

Fenris gave him a long stare but held his tongue, whatever was bothering his husband was not for the table. “ _Whenever you are ready to go carissimi, let me know._ ” he whispered in Antivan. 

Zevran inclined his head slightly, the only sign he’d heard, as he turned his attention to the Antivan delicacy. Ellowynne had demolished hers already and was looking at her father pleadingly. After a moment Zevran wordlessly spooned half of his dessert into her bowl and gave her a fond look as her eyes lit up.

Fenris gave her an indulgent smile as he watched them. He caught a passing servant and asked that some of the desserts be sent to his room for later as he wasn’t feeling up to it yet. He slid his plate to Zevran before he rose. 

“I think I want to show Nakusa around and get him settled. See you in my room later carissimi?” asked the warrior. Zevran nodded and tilted his face up towards Fenris for a kiss.

“I shall be there once a certain young lady has been settled in bed, yes?” the Antivan promised.

“Of course love.” Fenris made his farewells before he went to Dorian and reminded the Altus that he would be at his door early to prepare for the day. “Don’t keep him up too late, amicus?” 

Dorian lifted his wine glass with a nod. “I promise you both I shall be a-bed before midnight!” he agreed.

“He’ll sleep like a rock, I’ll be the one that needs a hand getting to bed. Go on, we’ll meet your family after the ceremony. Happy that your brother has shown up, that smile on your face was worth it.” Meneris teased.

Fenris blushed and gave the Inquisitor another shy smile before he went on his way. Vic and Carver were so deep in catching up, he’d left them to talk since he’d see them in the morning.

Nakusa paused by Varric’s table, where Isabela and Varric were laughing at some joke whilst Arden watched them quietly, the blond mage almost hidden in the shadows by the fire. 

Isabela glanced up, then got to her feet. “Off to explore, sweet thing?” she asked Nakusa.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” shrugged the scarred elf.

“Have fun then. We’ve been given a guest room somewhere; I’m sure one of the servants will show you,” she grinned. “Varric will steer me back there if need be.”

“Rivaini, the amount you’ve drunk already, I’m not sure _steering_ is the right word,” replied Varric as he shook his head with a grin. He nodded to Fenris and Nakusa. “You go on, Swirly; I’ll take care of our inebriated friend.”

“And I’m sure he’ll take care of me later, won’t you?” Isabela added as she leaned against Nakusa; the elf lifted his hands to steady her.

“I’ll see you later, Isabela,” smiled Nakusa. He helped her back into her seat then turned back to Fenris, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly once his back was turned to the pirate.

“You’ll be getting your own room brother.” Fenris said as they headed off to his room so he could change into something more casual. “Make yourself comfortable, I just want out of this damned tunic, it’s a bit snug.” 

Nakusa laughed. “I’ve been sharing a cabin with Isabela for nearly two years, Fenris,” he replied. “Why on earth would I want a separate room?” 

Fenris’ eyebrows rose at that but he just said oh instead of what he wanted to say. He wasn’t happy to see the pirate, and her snarking at him didn’t help change his mind. “What else has happened since I last saw you then?”

Nakusa glanced down at the dark tattoos down the side of his body that matched the lyrium. “Well, this for one,” he grinned. “I’m second-in-command of the ship now, for another. I dare say most of the people I run into these days probably don’t give me much of a second glance; funnily enough when you run around with a bunch of tattooed pirates you blend in if you have markings like these. Life’s treating me well, and we’re living high off the proceeds of the loot we take from fat Tevene merchants.” His grin broadened. “We’ve also been putting a sizeable dent in the Tevinter slave trade.”

“Good to hear, I’m glad you are...happy.” Fenris said as he approached and knelt down to look at his siblings tattoos. “Nice work, did you design them?” 

Nakusa shrugged. “Not really; Isabela found a tattooist she trusted, and I asked her to follow the lines of the scarring. It helps hide it mostly, though the tattooist was - I think she may have been one of those Rivaini seers. Something about the tattooing... it was painful to endure, but the pain from the brands as well as the scars has been far less ever since. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to Anders about.” He glanced down at the inked lines down the backs of his fingers.

“I hope he can help, you know he’ll do his best for you.” Fenris glanced up at him before he hugged him again, his voice a bit rough as he told him how he’d missed his brother. 

“And you?” asked Nakusa gently as he stared up at Fenris. “How did you grow so tall? And a married man now - did I understand correctly, you are married to Hawke, Anders _and_ Zevran? When?” He smiled softly, a slightly wistful look in his eyes. “I wish I had known; I would have come for the wedding.”

“It was sudden, we…” Fenris’ voice faltered as he explained their marriage, the recovery, even Hal’s return from the dead. “I’d have loved to have you at my side. I’m sorry you weren’t. I did ...I thought I was going to die after that dragon took me out.” 

Nakusa’s smile had slowly slipped as Fenris spoke; he’d turned and paced slowly as Fenris laid out the tale. Upon Fenris’ final words, he turned and stared at his brother.

“These lyrium brands we share grant us many powers, Fenris, but changing into a dragon is not one of them,” he said quietly. “Tell me... how? How did you grow so tall?” He gestured at Fenris and shook his head. “How did you... _change_ so?”

“Would you believe Mythal? Apparently I’d been..her chosen? When we sought a way to stop Corypheus, we found her temple, her guardian put me to Her tests and I was found worthy. She...changed me, healed me and part of it was this damned growth spurt and the dragon thing. It’s been something.” Fenris answered. “I kind of hate it some days.”

Nakusa stared at him and blinked. “If any other man had told me such a story, I’d have called him a liar - but not you. Dumat take you for the most extraordinary luck - chosen by a _goddess_?” He shook his head slowly. “That’s incredible.” He suddenly grinned. “No point my asking you to show me how you pulled off such a trick then, for I doubt any goddess would look at me twice.”

“I am not lucky in that sense. I don’t know what made Her choose me. I don’t know if I want to know. I just...don’t like being different brother. I hate it so much sometimes, but I’ve accepted it for what it is. I can’t change it anymore than I can change my eye or hair color. You didn’t show up to hear me whine, let’s get you settled and then I’m going to try and get Zev to tell me what bothered him so at dinner.” Fenris gave Nakusa one more, brief hug before he went for the door.

“Homesick, at a guess,” shrugged Nakusa. He checked Fenris with a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously though - I’m glad you all came through that mess alive. The rumours we picked up... well, they never went into detail, but that whole Corypheus mess sounded very bad. The news out of Tevinter was ... really not good. The way we heard it, it sounded as if Tevinter were on the verge of claiming the old Imperium restored. Between that and the bloody Qunari....”

Nakusa pulled Fenris back to himself for an almost bone-crushing hug. “I am so glad you lived. All of you, but you most of all, brother.”

“You’re making me cry.” Fenris said as he held on to his sibling, relieved and happy he was there.

Nakusa patted him on the shoulder before pulling away with a smile. “Come on, show me around this place.”

***

Anders tugged the sash belt of his ornate robes loose and shrugged off the heavy stiff brocade outer robe with a groan, tossing it onto his bed as his fingers reached for the buttons at the neck of the under robe.

“I concur,” murmured Zevran, already stripping out of the high-necked jacket of his own outfit.

“Add me in too. I never thought I’d escape and we still have the reception in a couple of hours.” Fenris said as he shrugged out of his jacket and poured himself a drink. 

Vic was preoccupied with helping Ellowynne into something less fancy but she was still rather excited about the ceremony and how nice everything was. “Hold still, you’re like a rabbit little one.”

“I for one am going to have a bath then,” muttered Anders as he threw aside the under robe then reached for a towel and strode towards the bathing chamber, tugging the hair tie from his long tresses as he walked. “I need some time and space to be able to hear myself think before we face yet more crowds.”

“I’m going to fall over on my face.” Fenris said before he finished his drink and flopped on the bed. “No one else get married and ask me to be best man, ever again.” 

“You were so good at it love and don’t forget you have to give a speech at the reception.” Vic teased as he finally got Ellowynne out of her fancy dress and promptly lost her to running around until her uncle Zevran caught her. She giggled as he tickled her lightly before he set her down. 

There was a knock at the door and Zevran rose to answer it; there was a young woman standing just outside the doorway. She gave Zevran a grin.

“Ah, Marian!” he greeted her. “Ellowynne, dress quickly - Marian is here to collect you.”

As the black-haired girl hesitantly stepped inside at Zevran’ beckoning, she glanced around a little nervously. It took Invictus a moment to recognise her - she was one of the twins from his battlemage class. She looked rather different outside of her usual practice robes; she noticed him staring and bobbed a brief curtsey. 

“First Enchanter Hawke,” she said shyly.

“Marian, nice to see you. Careful, she’s a wily one.” Vic said with a wink. 

“Oh, I know; she reminds me a lot of our younger sister. Well. How our sister was,” Marian shrugged. “It’s OK, I’m used to her.”

“Marian often looks after Ellowynne. Or her brother,” shrugged Zevran.

“He’s wrangling the others,” shrugged Marian, then smiled as Ellowynne finished wriggling into a clean dress. “Come on Munchkin,” she said, holding out her hand.

“See you later Uncle Vic, Fen, Zev!” called Ellowynne. “Give my love to Daddy!”

Zevran slumped in his chair with a thankful sigh once the girls had gone. “And now we may relax,” he smiled.

“As long as it does not involve me moving for at least an hour, I’ll take it.” Fenris mumbled.

“Love you are so crabby, let me help you out with a back rub?” Vic said as he approached. 

Zevran glanced up. “ _Carissimi_ , I think you are perhaps as fond of crowds and formality as Anders is,” he said quietly.

“Even less so, even though it’s been years I still ...memories of being paraded around Minrathous, the Senate and shown off like a prized mabari come to me at times like this.” Fenris said as he turned his head to look at his men.

“Ah, but do you remember when we set foot off the ship upon Seheron? You did not panic then, though Anders did,” Zevran pointed out. “I was half-afraid he would do so again today, but you and he both acquitted yourselves well and now both Dorian and Meneris are wed. So. Whatever comes after must be far less troublesome, no?”

“I was terrified, but I kept it in. A wedding is a less fearsome affair, though I still have to speak at the reception. Someone keep me from getting too drunk before that. Afterward though, I am going straight for a whiskey.” Fenris mumbled.

“Is he falling asleep?” Vic asked in amusement.

“I am still wondering how Anders managed to avoid such a duty,” smiled Zevran. “Perhaps Meneris felt sorry for him.”

“I think all the things he had to do earlier, plus having to keep an eye on our little sprite kept him from that particular best man duty.” Vic frowned slightly then snorted when he heard a snore coming from his husband. “How can he sleep sprawled like that?” 

Zevran chuckled. “You have known him how many years now, Invictus? And yet still you ask?” He rose to his feet and shook his head. “I shall check that Anders has not similarly fallen asleep - it would not do for him to drown himself.” He headed towards the bathing chamber.

“He looks like a Seheron jungle cat, but I think our beloved would strangle me in my sleep if I said that to him.” Vic laughed as he stretched out next to Fenris and cuddled up with him. He wasn’t tired but leaving the elf to get a nap wouldn’t hurt.

“It is much more fun to be strangled whilst awake, no?” said Zevran with a wink before he pushed the bathing chamber door open. Still grinning, he turned away; a moment later, Invictus heard the elf exclaim aloud.

“No, no my heart, we must not drown!” There was a sound of splashing, and then coughing from the bathing chamber.

Vic jumped up and ran in to help. “Love if you are so tired you get a nap too.” he said as he helped Anders sit up.

Fenris sat up and looked for all the noise. “What’s happened?”

“I’m alright,” Anders finally managed to gasp. “I only closed my eyes for a moment, I swear!”

“It is well I thought to come check; you were just slipping under,” said Zevran as he nodded to Invictus to help him lift Anders out of the water. Anders coughed, his eyes a little red, as they managed to get him out of a tub. Zevran wrapped him in a towel then held him close.

“You will turn my hair white, my heart,” he said teasingly.

“I hope not,” said Anders. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to alarm you both.”

“Come and lie down with me for a bit, if you’re sleepy enough to nod in the bath.” Fenris got out before he yawned and stretched more like a feline than an elf. 

Anders glanced to Invictus, then let himself lean into Zevran’s embrace. “Maybe that would be a good idea,” he conceded as they headed back into the main room.

“Or rest with Zevran, I just need to be up in an hour or so.” Fenris said as he flopped back down.

“Maker you are a cat aren’t you?” Vic laughed as he lit a candle to mark an hour’s passing and poured himself a drink. Anders had crawled onto the bed, the towel tied around his waist, and he curled up upon his side, his eyes already closed. Zevran stood beside the bed, staring down at him for a few minutes, then headed over towards the side cupboard and helped himself to a glass of wine.

“So what to do while they nap?” Vic asked with a grin.

“Not actually asleep,” murmured Anders, though his voice sounded drowsy.

“That’s never stopped us before.” Vic said as he reached over to take Zevran’s hand.

The Antivan let himself be drawn to his husband’s side, the glass of wine in his free hand almost forgotten as he regarded the mage with his golden stare. 

“True, it has not,” said Zevran softly. “And indeed, he has watched.”

“Not watching now,” murmured Anders, his words slurring slightly as his eyes opened briefly to glance at Fenris then closed again. “Just try not to make him scream too loudly, Vic.”

“Wasn’t going for screams, just a quick round of fun. Besides, Fenris makes him scream, not me.” Vic said as he wrapped his arms around Zevran. “Up for a quick tumble or save it for later?”

Zevran glanced over at Anders, then back to Invictus. “Later, perhaps,” he demurred, with an apologetic smile.

“No worries, I have a feeling you and Anders will be spending some time together. It’s fine Zev, it’s adorable actually.” Vic gave him a gentle kiss before he let the smaller elf go. “I’ll be back in a moment, I’d like to change as well.” 

Zevran appeared to suddenly recall the glass of wine in his hand; he nodded then lifted it to his lips, sipping slowly as he moved away to a chair then sat back, watching Invictus as the mage rose. He lowered the glass and glanced across to Anders, who seemed to have slipped into sleep despite his earlier protestation of wakefulness.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Vic said softly before he slipped out to his room. 

Zevran sat and listened to the stillness of the room, the silence broken only by the peaceful breathing of the two sleeping men.

“I have had it so bad for longer than you could dream, Hawke,” he murmured softly to himself, his eyes on Anders.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is nervous, Anders has the cure and more shenaniganry on Meneris and Dorian's day

The reception was a far more laid-back affair than the wedding had been. Fenris sat with Dorian, Meneris and Leliana at the head table, with Anders and Ellowynne a bit further down the row. The elven warrior had changed into an outfit that the Altus had gifted him for the occasion, and much as he disliked admitting it, the Tevinter-styled attire suited him, even the royal blue colour went with his complexion. He tried to pretend he wasn’t nervous about his speech but knew that he’d failed when he felt Dorian’s hand on the knee he kept bouncing. “Would you hate me if I decided to go faint in a corner and not give this speech?” he asked.

Dorian chuckled quietly. “Have you asked Anders if he’d be willing to spare you the ordeal and speak in your stead, amicus?” he asked, glancing over at the blond mage. Anders had changed into a light tunic of Anderfels cut in dark blue over a silk shirt and dark pants, foregoing the elaborate robes he’d worn for the ceremony, and was relaxed with a glass of mead in his hand as he glanced down at his daughter who was showing him a little flame she’d conjured upon the palm of her hand. Leliana was admiring it with a smile.

“No, he’s got to keep an eye on Ellowynne, and he already had a lot to do and say during the wedding. I’ll be fine, I’m just nervous. I’ll have to get used to it as ambassador, right?” Fenris said lightly. 

“Yes, but if he knew how uncomfortable you feel about it I have no doubt he’d gladly spare you the ordeal,” shrugged Dorian as he reached for the bottle of wine and topped up Fenris’ glass then his own. Meneris glanced at him as he set the bottle down again then sipped his wine. Dorian smiled at Fenris. “After all, people are expecting a best man’s speech. There’s nothing that says _which_ best man.”

Fenris shook his head as he reached for his speech again before he caught himself. “No, I need to get over my fears and my words...my speech are personal, Anders can’t do this for me.” 

Dorian glanced at the folded piece of paper then nodded. “Then I shall appreciate this all the more, amicus,” said Dorian softly.

“Just have a drink on hand for when I’m done, I will need it.” Fenris gave him a smile before he downed his wine. “At least I’ll look good if I pass out right?” the warrior tried to laugh but it didn’t sound right.

Dorian’s brow creased slightly as his grey eyes darkened with concern. “Amicus, perhaps you should take a breath of fresh air? I’d rather you not faint if it can be helped. I don’t want you making yourself unwell for my sake.” He sat up straighter as he set his wineglass down.

“Alright, air, air is good. Excuse me a moment.” Fenris made for the balcony and tried to calm himself. He turned when he felt arms around his waist and relaxed when he realized it was Anders. 

“Are you alright love?” asked the mage quietly as he rested his chin on Fenris’ shoulder. “You looked white as a sheet when you came out here. Is it this speech?” He turned his head slightly and brushed a kiss against Fenris’ cheek; his breath smelled a little of the sweet mead he’d been drinking all evening.

“Just nervous is all, Dorian suggested air and I might have jumped up a bit quickly. Sorry if I worried you.” Fenris turned around and kissed Anders slowly, enjoying the taste of mead on his husband’s tongue. “That’s better.”

Anders smiled. “You don’t have to do it you know - the speech, that is. If it makes you that nervous.” He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Fenris’ eyes. “I’ve seen you nervous so rarely. It’s... it just seems so not you, love.” He grinned teasingly. “I swear you look as though you’d rather face an ogre with a butter knife in your hand, than a room of people you know with a piece of paper.”

Fenris laughed as he wrapped his arms around Anders. “Honestly, that sounds like a better time than public speaking. But this is important to me, both so I get over my stupid fear of doing these things. I’ll have to speak as an Ambassador, I can’t avoid it forever. Also, the speech is rather personal love. It’s an honor that he asked me, that we’ve come so far from me wanting to kill him on principle to standing at his side today. I’ll be ok, I’m just worried about being so...open I suppose.” the elven warrior held on to his husband and just enjoyed the quiet before they had to go back in. 

Anders chuckled. “Believe me, I know the feeling. Truth be told, I still feel exhausted from having to effectively perform in public during the ceremony - I had no idea Leliana would bring me into proceedings quite to that extent. Did you not notice how I couldn’t eat a thing this morning?” He leaned up and kissed Fenris on the nose. “You’ll be fine,” he assured him, then chuckled as Fenris wrinkled his nose up at the kiss.

“I’m not a cat, despite what you and Vic keep saying. Right now I’m fighting the urge to let my wings out and fly away. Mythal, that would be a sight, if I got so nervous my wings sprouted.” Fenris laughed at the image then at Anders’ expression. “It won’t happen, this jacket is leather, it would be painful for me, if nothing else.” 

“No, I’m just imagining how disappointed Ellowynne would be if you flew away without her,” Anders smirked. “Though I’ll confess I’m beginning to feel a little left out; I swear you must have taken everyone for a flight now except me.” He winked, to show he wasn’t really upset. “Should I insist you take me for a ride?” He grinned. “Or is that on the books for tonight when I finally peel you out of that leather?” He pressed himself against Fenris and tilted his head back a little as he arched an eyebrow.

“I’ll take you for that kind of a ride whenever you want my heart.” Fenris grinned as he wrapped the long braid Anders had his hair done in around his hand and tugged. “Forget the speech let’s run away now.” 

Anders gasped, his eyes fluttering shut, and then he very deliberately rolled his hips against Fenris slowly. “Maker, if that’s all it takes to get you over your nerves, then....” 

“If it wouldn’t be a damned scandal, for the Inquisition’s Tevinter ambassador and Grand Enchanter to shag on the balcony during the Inquisitor’s wedding reception I’d fuck you stupid right here,” Fenris snarled in his ear. 

Anders opened his eyes and darted a glance back through the curtains to the hall. “They’re barely starting on the second course,” he said in a low voice. “We could hide behind the curtain there, on the corner of the balcony.” He glanced back at Fenris. “I’m game if you are,” he added, giving Fenris a grin that dared him to say yes as he ground his hips against Fenris again. He shifted one leg so that he was pressed against Fenris’ thigh and then slowly ground himself against the elf’s leg, his eyes fluttering closed as he groaned softly. “Maker... Fenris, I want you to fuck me,” he whispered. “Right here, right now.”

“If it wouldn’t scandalize half the nobles in there you’d already be on your knees. Get behind that curtain, and get yourself open. This is gonna be quick and rough, ok?” Fenris panted in Anders’ ear as he glanced over the mage’s shoulder and saw Vic raise his glass at them with a wink. 

Anders pulled Fenris over to the shelter of the small space just behind the balcony door then turned and swiftly tugged his pants down to his knees, leaning forward to press himself against the stone wall as he worked two fingers into himself.

“Maker, this feels just like being an apprentice back in the tower again,” Anders said quietly and then giggled. “Quickly, before anyone comes!” He spread his legs apart and called up a handful of slick, holding his hand behind his back for Fenris to take it and oil himself.

Fenris slicked himself up and bit at the back of Anders’ neck as he slid into his husband. “So...dirty...I’d fucking do this over the head table if you let me.” he said as he pinned Anders’ hands to the wall. “You ok?” he asked in a whisper.

Anders bit his lip then nodded. “Move,” he begged, his eyes closed.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” Fenris said before he started to move, each thrust hard and quick. He was close already, either from how tight Anders was around his cock, the chance of being caught or both.

Anders’ breath came faster in pants, but the mage was utterly silent apart from the occasional very faint whimpers and a breathily-whispered “Oh, _Maker_....” 

“So...damned tight...so good. I love you,” Fenris breathed in his ear as he felt his orgasm start to hit. “Anders… An…” he moaned quietly. 

His only signs that Anders was beginning to climax were the way Anders’ mouth suddenly opened wide in a silent gasp as the mage’s hands almost clawed at the stone wall then his body clenched tighter around Fenris’ cock as Anders shuddered wordlessly, silently, his eyes screwed tight shut.

Fenris actually whimpered as he felt how tight Anders had clamped down on him but he relaxed against his husband slowly and pulled back. “Thanks...not nervous, just want a nap.” he huffed. Anders’ breaths were little more than near-silent ragged pants as he pressed himself against the wall, his cheek pressed to the cool stone as he waited for his heart and his breathing to slow, not moving as Fenris pulled away.

After a moment, Anders managed to fish a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his tunic. He managed to concentrate enough to conjure ice into it then warmed it with a touch of fire magic before passing it wordlessly back to Fenris, not moving away from the wall.

Fenris cleaned them both up as best he could and started to hitch his pants up before he realized a jug of water and a towelette had been slipped past the curtain. “Looks like Vic provided for us, heat the water love?” He held jug up for heat then took another pass at both of them. 

“You alright?” he asked softly as he straightened Anders’ clothes for him. Anders slowly straightened as he nodded, finally opening his eyes as he turned back to face Fenris and gave him a slow smile.

“Feeling better now?” the blond mage murmured.

“Much...now I just wonder who’s gonna realize I banged the Grand Enchanter out here - well, besides Vic?” Fenris said with a wink. He wanted to go to their rooms and have more fun rather than hang around. 

“That depends - _I_ was silent,” replied Anders with a wink. “ _You_ evidently need more practice though.” He leaned up and kissed Fenris swiftly on the nose then turned on his heel and had slipped back through the curtain into the great hall again before Fenris could react. By the time Fenris had managed to follow back into the hall, Anders was already back at his place at the table and reaching for his glass of mead as though nothing had happened.

Fenris gave Dorian and Meneris a grin as he took a glass of wine from Dorian and winked at him. “Did I miss anything while I got some air?”

“We’re just on to dessert,” replied Dorian. “Or were about to be. Which means you’re up - if you still feel you want to do this, amicus?” 

“Yeah, I’m feeling good, very good.” Fenris grinned before he got his glass topped up. “Just have that stiff drink ready for me.” 

Dorian nodded, and smiled. “Anders is very good for you, amicus,” he said gently. “Our healer is talented in more ways than one with his gifts.”

“You don’t know the half of it, at all.” Fenris smiled as he looked to Leliana or Anders for a cue as to when he should actually start to speak. 

Josephine began tapping her empty wineglass with a spoon until the room fell silent and all eyes turned to the top table; she gestured to Fenris to begin, with a smile.

The elven warrior stood and gave the happy couple a warm smile before he began. “For those that didn’t make the ceremony or haven’t been around, my name is Leto Hawke, Ambassador to Tevinter for the Inquisition. My title isn’t important, not on a day where I have the honor to stand by my friend’s side as they wed.”

He took a moment to straighten his notes and focused on Invictus before he went on. “It’s important because Dorian and I didn’t get along when we first joined the Inquisition. I was not kind or nice to him, and it nearly took a divine act to change my mind about him. It’s been a long road to getting here today, to having the honor to be his friend, his best man as he joined Meneris in matrimony. He’s proof that just because someone is from Tevinter, they aren’t terrible. He was raised among the very people who subjugated mine, who left a life of comfort and privilege to join the Inquisition and make a difference.

“It’s where he found love with Meneris, and it’s where I saw changes in him that made me grow as well. It’s because of him, and my husbands that I learned, and stopped being so hateful towards him and others who wished to change our homeland into something great. So it’s with pleasure, honor and humility that I thank you amicus and congratulate you and your husband on your wedding today. Please join me in a toast to both of them.” 

Servants had been moving through the hall, refilling everyone’s wine glasses, and at Fenris’ final words, the whole hall rose to their feet, lifting their glasses in toast to Dorian and Meneris; and then applause broke out, along with calls of “Speech! Speech!” As the applause died away, Dorian glanced to Meneris then got to his feet. His eyes were suspiciously bright and he was blinking rapidly. His lips parted but he seemed at a loss for words for a moment as he stared at Fenris. He pressed a hand over his heart for a moment, and then he reached for his own wineglass and raised it in salute to Fenris, and finally managed to utter a single word.

“Amicus.”

Applause broke out again as Dorian could only smile at Fenris, evidently too overcome for further words.

The elven warrior clinked his glass against Dorian’s in acceptance, drained a good portion of it and had set it down, before he was pulled into a hug. “I hope that was ok.” 

“Thank you, amicus,” whispered Dorian as he hugged him close. “Thank you. It was perfect.” As he pulled away, he gave Fenris a tearful smile before he sat down again and reached for Meneris’ hand.

“Want me to thank him? You look fit to break, love. You alright?” the Inquisitor whispered.

“Please, love,” Dorian nodded. “I’m... I’m too happy for words.” He smiled through his tears at Meneris, dabbing at them with his fingers even as the kohl beneath his eyes ran a little.

Meneris kissed him before he rose and clinked his own glass against Fenris’.

“Thank you Leto for such a beautiful speech. I daresay you’ve struck Dorian speechless.” He winked at his husband as he held his hand. “Me being a tease aside, thank you from both of us. We’re glad you’re here, as well as Anders, Invictus, and Zevran. We’re happy that you stayed and that you became such important parts of the Inquisition, and our lives. Here’s to many years of friendship and working together to make Thedas better.”

It was the warrior’s turn to be a bit choked up as he raised his glass and finished his drink. His words were met by another round of applause; quite a number of people were now glancing towards Anders, evidently wondering if the Grand Enchanter were now going to make a speech.

“You’ve anything to add love?” Fenris asked quietly of his husband when he noticed the looks towards him.

Anders glanced around, startled, then out at the hall of people. “Me?” he said, startled; he suddenly realised that everyone at the head table were looking at him, and nearly half the people in the hall. He swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to, but people are kind of looking at you. Just wish them well and sit down?” Fenris offered, right before Ellowynne climbed in his lap and flung her arms around his neck. “Careful, you almost punched me in the face Imp.”

Anders downed the rest of the mead in his glass, stared at the empty glass for a moment then set it down before rising to his feet, unconsciously straightening his spine as he squared his shoulders and stared out over the hall. 

“I see a lot of faces here this evening. Some are friends; some I know by sight. A great many of you, I don’t know at all. But we’re all here for one reason, and one reason only - because one man here in this hall tonight stood against a former Tevinter magister who would have destroyed this world and with it everything that I, and all of you, held most dear.” His gaze roamed over the whole hall slowly. “But he didn’t do it alone. He could not have done it alone. He did it with our help.” He gestured towards the gathered throng. “He did it with _your_ help. The Inquisition is not one man. It is not Meneris Lavallen. It is every man, woman, human, dwarf, elf in this room right now. It is every scout still out there in the fields, hills, cities and mountains of Orlais, of Ferelden, of the Free Marches and beyond. It is greater than all of us.” 

He turned slowly to Meneris. “But it would also have been nothing without one man to lead it. One man to be the face of the Inquisition. One man who set aside the prejudices he grew up with and set trust in - of all people - a human mage from Tevinter. One man who set an example for us all, showed by his example that we can _all_ lay our prejudices aside - humans, elves, dwarves. Templars and mages. That together we _can_ be stronger than we are apart. We _can_ stand against ancient evil. And that we can find common ground together.”

He smiled. “That we can find love together. Dorian, Meneris, your wedding in a very real sense symbolises all that is best in the Inquisition. And I know that I speak for everyone here when I say that you both have the love and respect and the heartfelt thanks for what you have both done, given and shown us. I know I, myself, feel a better man for having known you.”

He picked up a bottle of mead from the table and refilled his glass. “And now, before I embarrass myself any further and quite likely start crying - or perhaps Meneris does -” he darted the elf a grin - “Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to raise your glasses and join me in three cheers for Meneris and Dorian.”

The room erupted into loud cheers, led by Anders; they continued even as he turned to the elf and the Altus and raised his glass in silent tribute to them both.

Fenris clapped as well as he could with Ellowynne still around his neck then raised his glass. “You did that with no preparation, you put me to shame love. Well done.” He had to keep his glass from his step daughter. “Ah not for you Imp, you’ll get very sick and your daddy will be angry with me for letting you have it, even if it is sweet.”

Anders sat down, his eyes lowered as his cheeks burned. As Meneris glanced at him, he realised Anders’ hands were trembling badly; the mage closed them about his glass firmly then took a hasty mouthful of mead to steady his nerves.

“Love, it was a compliment. I’m terrible at words, it’s a thing I’ve always admired about you. Come on, let’s go mingle a bit. I’ll carry this little imp so she’ll stop trying to steal my drink.” Fenris rose to his feet and moved over then leaned over and kissed Anders on the cheek. 

Dorian and Meneris were oblivious; Dorian had claimed the Inquisitor’s lips in a kiss and it looked as though they were likely to take some time to come back to awareness of their surroundings.

Anders glanced up at Fenris. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to - to upstage you or anything, I wasn’t even supposed to be giving a speech! I just... I never know when to shut up.” 

“Daddy, you’re going to drop your glass,” said Ellowynne. “Are you scared Daddy?”

“No, I’m not scared sweetheart,” replied Anders as he smiled at her. “Just - well, it’s something that happens sometimes when I have to talk to a lot of people. It can be a bit daunting.”

She let go of Fenris and wrapped her arms around her father. “Proud of you, Daddy,” she murmured.

That was enough to bring the tears to Anders’ eyes. “Oh sweetheart,” he murmured, and buried his face against her dark gold hair.

“Anders, you didn’t upstage me at all. Why don’t you take that imp to her room, and maybe we can catch up later, unless Zevran wanted to spend time with you and we can watch her tonight?” Fenris offered.

“But we haven’t had dessert yet!” protested Ellowynne.

“Oh, by all means we must have dessert first,” smiled Anders as he straightened, wiping his face with a hand. He glanced up at Fenris and smiled gently. “It’s alright - I’ll be fine in a moment, it’s just been a very long day.” He glanced at Meneris and Dorian and chuckled. “Dorian, let him breathe,” he added chidingly.

Meneris opened his eyes and pulled back so he could get air. “Oh, hello. I guess we got carried away.” The elven warrior smiled at his husband and wrapped his arms around the Altus. “Do we do the cake cutting thing? Or should we tell the band to start playing?” he asked. 

“There is cake I believe, Inquisitor,” said Cullen as he approached the high table; he bore a sword in his arms which Meneris suddenly recognised as being the same blade Leliana had held out to him the morning that he had been declared Inquisitor.

“How big is the cake?!” Meneris exclaimed. In answer, Cullen ducked his head a little and looked awkward. 

“It’s... ah... well....”

The double doors at the far end of the hall opened and a team of the cooks from the kitchen began to slowly wheel in what had to surely be the largest cake the elf had ever seen.

“Maker, is that....” began Dorian slowly.

“Uh... it’s... Skyhold. In cake form. Yes,” admitted Cullen. 

The entirety of the high table were on their feet now, staring at the replica of Skyhold in cake form that was approaching them.

“The, ah, College of Mages may have... assisted,” Anders admitted with a slightly embarrassed smirk. “Dagna was extensively involved in the engineering.” 

“There is finally something else in this place taller than me.” Fenris quipped.

“Until you turn into a dragon again,” quipped Ander before he could help himself.

Fenris sighed but didn’t snap back, he was not going to start an argument. “I might have to in order for this cake to be consumed. But I’m guessing it would make me sick as well… a dog to eat that much sugar.” 

“Fenris, amicus,” said Dorian in a conversational tone. “How many people do you think are in this room? How many Inquisition soldiers stationed here at Skyhold? How many children in the mage’s camp? I don’t think it will take a dragon to eat this cake. As Anders so eloquently expressed to us all, this celebration is as much for the Inquisition as a whole as it is for us.” He glanced at Fenris with a grin then leaned over. “Your husband has drunk rather a lot of mead and is rather tired. We can forgive him for his unthinking comments, amicus. Alright?” he murmured, with a fond glance at Anders who had evidently belatedly realised his tongue was running away with him again and was hiding behind the strands of hair that had come loose from his braid as he stared intently into his glass of mead, his cheeks blushing again.

“I’ll get him for it later, in a way he’ll undoubtedly enjoy even if I am supposed to be punishing him.” Fenris murmured. 

Invictus had remained with Zevran and was just snickering at them. “I swear they both look like kids in a sweet shop. You know Fenris has a sweet tooth.”

“So does Anders,” murmured Zevran quietly. “Which strangely the cooks at Vigil’s Keep remembered even after all this time. It was an effective way of distracting him at times.”

“What do you mean? Oh, during your visit? I have a feeling they both will bring some of that back with them. Perhaps you should save some for time with Anders tonight? I know you’re very fond of him and I saw how you gaze at him at times. Fenris and I can amuse ourselves and watch Ellowynne tonight.” Vic offered.

Zevran’s gaze dropped to the floor as his eyes widened slightly. “All this time, and it is only now you speak of this,” he murmured softly. “Yes, I have been... _fond_ of Anders, as you put it, for a great many years.” He reached for his glass of wine as he dropped into his seat, even as applause broke out across the hall whilst Meneris and Dorian sliced into the cake with the immense Inquisition sword.

“Well I wanted to tease but I value breathing. It’s lovely to see, Zev, and I know Anders is happy with the change in your relationship. Be at ease, just as we are learning each other, you and Anders are finding yourselves. He’s happier than I’ve known in a long while. Enjoy him tonight, and every night,” Vic said with a smile for his Antivan husband.

Zevran glanced up at Invictus. “I would not hurt you simply for teasing, Invictus,” he smiled. “But yes. I loved Anders from far back. Perhaps not in the same way as Fenris - and not as suddenly - but... I knew, long ago. Perhaps I should have said something sooner, but at least I did not wait forever.”

“True enough, but my teasing sometimes goes over the line. I would not hurt you or him with my ill-placed humor.” Vic said.

Zevran slipped his arms around Invictus’ neck and held him close. “I would forgive you even so. Forgive me if I seem less loving than I should be. I wear your ring with as much pride as I do theirs.”

“We’re still learning each other, it will come in time or we will find our space together as best we can. I know you care for Fenris and Anders far more than you care for me, it's ok.” Vic leaned over and gave him a kiss before he turned his attention to their other spouses. He was unaware of the wistful look the elf gave him before Zevran dropped into a chair and topped off his glass.

“Come, we should get cake and make sure our little imp gets some of it before we try to put her down for the night.” Vic said as he set his glass aside to join the others. 

“Invictus,” called Zevran as he rose to his feet. As the mage glanced back at him, one eyebrow lifted in query, the Antivan drew a deep breath.

“Ellowynne is not as much a child as you may think,” he said quietly. “She is ten - and she grew up within the Circle. Do not make the mistake of thinking her innocent.” As Invictus stared at him, slowly beginning to frown, Zevran lowered his gaze. “Anders tries to fool himself. But Ellowynne understands far more than you think. She will enjoy cake much as any child her age - but let her remain here with us as long as she chooses, this night. Watch our step-daughter. Listen. Anders will not - he is a doting father who prays his daughter has been spared what he was not.” He lifted his eyes to stare at Invictus. “And she plays a role to spare him. But... watch her. Learn what she does not speak.”

“I know these things Zevran, I was raised an apostate and I have listened to Anders even when he doesn’t think I was. I’ve listened to all of you, and as much as I hate it? I know.” Vic looked away sadly at her then back to Zevran. “I’ll be back, I need some air.” with that the First Enchanter went to the balcony to think on things.

Zevran dropped back into his chair and sighed as he dropped his heads into his hands. After a few moments, he rose to his feet and grabbed a bottle of wine as he headed towards the balcony. 

Vic leaned on the bannister but didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind him. Zevran approached him quietly and set the bottle down before he wrapped his arms around the mage, closing his eyes in case the former Champion reacted violently.

“What brings you out here?” Vic asked quietly. 

“I am sorry,” said Zevran quietly. “I should have not have spoken. Of course, you would understand; how could you not?” He pressed himself against Invictus’ back. “Forgive me. I did not mean to distress you.”

“I know, I know.” Vic said softly.

Zevran closed his eyes and sighed. “You should not feel you need to reassure me,” he said quietly. “I am not Anders, and I am not a mage. I....” He bit his lip. “Invictus. I think perhaps Anders and Fenris will seek solace in one another tonight, but... I would sleep with you, if... if you would....” He opened his eyes and stared at the mage. “Please understand, I _want_ to spend tonight with you. Please.”

“Solace? I don’t understand...but if you want me, you’ve but to ask.” Vic turned around and pulled the Antivan elf up to kiss him. “What’s this about? You don’t need to convince me of anything.”

Zevran closed his eyes. “Forgive me,” he repeated, and then spoke in Antivan. opening his heart and laying bare all his fears, hopes, dreams and worries, knowing Invictus would barely understand a word he said. He finally opened his eyes and was unsurprised at the look of confusion upon Invictus’ face. “I have not the words in Trade,” the Antivan admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. Let me spend this night with you, Invictus.” He stared into the mage’s eyes.

“Alright, let’s make our goodbyes and go to my rooms?” Vic said in confusion and a bit of worry for whatever was bothering his husband.

Zevran nodded slowly. He smiled hesitantly, then turned away to go and speak to Anders.

He realised swiftly that Anders was almost punch-drunk from tiredness and the after-effects of an adrenaline comedown; he kissed the blond mage gently then turned to Fenris. “Ellowynne will settle quickly, _carissimi_ ,” he assured Fenris. “I shall take her to her room. Invictus and I shall see you in the morning, hmm?” He kissed the elf and gave him a reassuring smile, then turned to Ellowynne who was already yawning despite the amount of cake she’d put away. 

“Come along, young madam,” he grinned. The young girl glanced up at him then turned and gave her father a hug. Anders and his daughter exchanged a tender goodnight, then Zevran nodded to Invictus. “Give me an hour,” he murmured to his husband before he led the tired yet happy girl away from the great hall.

“As you wish, the door will be unlocked for you.” Vic headed off to his room to get ready.

It was almost exactly an hour later that there was a soft tap upon Invictus’ door; he opened it to find the Antivan elf leaning against the door frame. Zevran smiled and lifted up the bottle of wine in his hand.

“I do not come empty-handed,” he grinned. “I thought perhaps we could share a drink together... and more?”

“You’re sweet Zevran, I’d be happy to share that with you and whatever else you’ve got in mind.” Vic let him in and locked the door. “Get comfy, I’ll get glasses.” 

Zevran set the bottle down then dropped into a chair, hooking one leg over the arm as he leaned back and grinned. “I think today went very well; what say you? Though I am glad our own ceremony was less formal.” He winked.

“It would have been nice to have a small one with Carver and Nakusa, but I’m just being wistful I think. Don’t mind me, I think seeing my brother out of the blue is still on my mind a bit. You didn’t come here to talk about that, and the more I go on, the less time we spend with this wine.” Vic poured them each a full glass before he raised his in toast. “To the happy couple, and to a much quieter time around the Keep for a bit.”

“A worthy toast, and I shall drink to that indeed,” nodded Zevran as he lifted his own glass in reply before taking a sip. “Ah, yes, a good vintage. No wonder Meneris keeps this one under lock and key.” He gave Invictus a wink.

“You’re lucky he’s in a celebratory mood, else he might take exception to you liberating some of the finer vintages eh?” Vic took a sip then glanced at his other elven spouse. “So, what’s on your mind? You’ve been a bit out of sorts lately.”

Zevran’s smile slipped. “Am I so easily read then?” he said softly. “You are a perceptive man, Invictus. Neither Anders nor Fenris have noticed anything amiss, I am certain. But yes, I am... troubled.” He dropped his gaze to his wineglass.

“Do you wish to speak of it? If not, we can just have a pleasant evening together as you wished. I admit I’m surprised, since it seemed like you’d have wanted to be with Anders tonight. Maybe I just can’t read some signals right.” Vic sat forward and offered his free hand for his husband. 

“It is Anders that troubles me,” Zevran confessed. “I wished to speak with you, because you are a mage and perhaps....” He sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “Invictus, I have heard a rumour that Dorian had a friend - a friend who contracted the Blight. And that Dorian found a treatment that prolonged that friend’s life - far beyond that which could be expected, halting the progression for many years. Tell me, do you know if it is true? Is such a thing possible?”

“Oh you mean his friend Felix? I don’t know how he managed to do it, his father had a big hand in whatever he found to make Felix live as long as he did. I thought it acted much faster than that, void I saw it act fast enough on Aveline’s first husband. He asked to be killed by blade rather than the Blight. I’d say ask Dorian once they are back from their travels. It’s not as if Anders is about to go on his Calling soon. He’d tell us.” Vic replied quietly.

Zevran stared down at his wineglass still, not lifting his head. “Two mages had already left for their Calling when we arrived at Vigil’s Keep,” he said quietly. “Both made a Warden a year after Anders.” He lifted his head to stare at Invictus. “I do not think he is experiencing his own Calling yet - his dreams seem no worse than usual. But... Invictus, I am afraid. I... I do not want to see him experience that. If there is any way I can prevent it, or hold it off a while longer, then I will do it. If such a thing is even possible.”

“We can talk with Dorian, maybe he has research we can read while he’s gone? They aren’t leaving for a few days,we can ask before they go. Would that help to ease your mind?” Vic had got to his knees before Zevran, worried for the elf and Anders. 

Zevran reached out to take hold of Invictus’ hand as he stared down at the mage, his golden eyes still dark and haunted. “It would,” he nodded slowly. He smiled sadly. “Ah, that I must keep falling in love with Wardens!” He chuckled morosely. “Forgive me, but I could not speak of this to Anders himself, and Fenris is not a mage - and you would understand and share my worry, yes?”

“I think you can speak to him of it, just not out of the blue. Fenris, our love is not a mage but I think he’d share your concern Zevran. It shows you care a lot more than people might assume. Does that help you, knowing we will talk to Dorian before he sets off?” Vic asked.

Zevran nodded. “It does,” he agreed. He smiled ruefully. “I know that when first Fenris spoke of marriage between the three of you, he perhaps had some idea that he and I might be wed separately, or that he and I would continue our own relationship whilst he was also wed to you and Anders. Perhaps I should have spoken sooner of how I felt about Anders. Certainly to Anders himself,” he added with a chuckle. “I do not want you to feel... how can I say... a fourth wheel, hmm? I am fond of you also in my own way, Invictus. And I am glad I can bring my worries to you like this. But come now - we have spoken of my worries and you have helped set my mind a little at ease. Is there anything I can do for you in return, my husband?”

Vic sat properly on the floor before Zevran and considered his words for a while before he finally spoke. “I am worried about Fenris, he speaks often of how much he hates the changes he’s been through. That streak of jealousy when Isabela showed up worries me, I mean we’re all married now, what could he think would happen?” 

Zevran frowned. “I too am concerned. I know that he did not take well my reaction to his changes,” he said slowly. “I handled them poorly, I am afraid. But you are right - his jealousy is very worrying. Does he think I would turn my back on you all for the sake of a tumble with Isabela? She and I are friends of old; I did her a favour and we have worked together often. But as you say, we are married men. I told him that since that day I helped you and he to bring Sebastian back to Kirkwall, I had slept with him and no other - and I have remained faithful ever since. I have slept with only two other people since that day, and I am sitting before one of them now.” He smiled at Invictus.

“I think it’s the old insecurity from before, and he doesn’t know of your history with her, I’m guessing? He may also assume she’s the one who knifed you when she was supposed to have been resting at the Hanged Man. We never did figure out who did it, hmm? But it’s not relevant, I think he worries that he’s not good enough no matter what. I wish I could make him see he’s more than enough even with all this time behind us,” Vic kissed each of Zevran’s palms before he got his wine again. 

Zevran shrugged lightly. “They were Crow rivals. I dealt with them,” he said dismissively. “They ceased to be a concern a long time ago, though I know Fenris still harbours a feeling Isabela was involved. It is true that she and I went to that warehouse by the docks to settle a matter between us, but it was not Isabela’s blade that left my blood upon the ground. He need not fear for my life - at least, not from Isabela’s blades. As for his other fears....” 

Zevran sat back in the chair and sighed. “I do not know how to reassure him. It is something that must come from within himself I think. A man’s courage must come from inside; you cannot give it to him. Though you would think that with - what, four lovers now?” He gave Invictus a quick grin. “You would think the sheer number of his lovers would be reassurance enough, no? And he has also had Dorian, Arden too I believe once - I think perhaps though my reputation precedes me, he is the greater lover, yes?” He chuckled and reached for the wine bottle.

“Don’t forget Hal, but that’s ...different for them I think.” Vic said before he pulled himself off the floor. “I shouldn’t sit on cold stones like that for long.” he laughed as he held his glass out for a refill. “Maker, I wished we’d let that cockmunch die back then.” 

“Sebastian?” Zevran sighed as he topped up Invictus’ glass. “He has caused much harm. Anders is very concerned for Arden; I understand his injuries will take a lot of work to heal, and he still cannot say what has happened to him?” He set the empty bottle down upon the floor by his feet. “He does not remember what happened to Kirkwall?”

“No, he’s been beaten within an inch of his life. He’ll regain his memories eventually I’d hope.” Vic took another pull before he sat his glass aside and beckoned Zevran to him. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I thought you had other things in mind?” Vic asked.

Zevran downed the rest of his wine then set the glass down beside the empty bottle before he rose to his feet and slowly walked towards Invictus, an almost coy smile upon his lips. He lowered himself slowly to his knees before the mage and stared up at him. “What would my husband have of me?” he purred softly.

“What do you feel like doing? Feel like being nice and slow, easy with each other? Or in the mood for it rough and hard?” Vic asked as he caressed Zevran’s face and traced the elf’s lips with his thumb slowly as he stared into his eyes. Zevran’s tongue darted out to taste the mage’s thumb before he slowly took it into his mouth and suckled upon it, his eyes never leaving Invictus’ face as he gave a very soft groan.

“Damn…” Vic breathed as he tried to keep himself from throwing Zevran on the bed and having his way. “Is that a yes to rough or ...slow?” he asked. Zevran drew away from the mage’s thumb very slowly and smiled.

“What would you like to do to me?” he breathed softly. “I am yours.”

“Right now, I want to throw you on that bed and shag you until you scream.” Vic said as he got to his feet and helped Zevran up. 

Zevran stepped in close and pressed his body against that of the taller man. “I do believe I would be most amenable to that,” he breathed. “You wish to play rough then, _mi amor_?”

“Yeah...I want that.” Vic said huskily as he held Zevran to him. “You could tempt the Divine with the look you’re giving me.” 

Zevran laughed at that. “You do know that Leliana prefers the company of ladies, yes?” he teased. “I am good, but....”

“I did not, we never spoke much when she was here.” Vic walked them back to the bed and pushed at Zevran to lie back. “What’s your word and what are your limits?” he asked as he started to undress.

Zevran leaned forward to tug off his boots, setting them to one side before he stripped out of his vest and shirt then lay back. “Hmm, my word... I choose....” He pondered a moment, then shrugged. “Elfroot. I am not likely to say that by chance. As for limits... I do not think you could push me past them, _mi amor_. I have tried most things at least twice - if only to be truly certain I did not like them the first time.” He winked. “And seeing as I see no horses or dogs here, I think that particular limit is not an issue.” 

“Err, what?” Vic asked in confusion. “I think if you suddenly shout about Elfroot I’ll be concerned even if you didn’t pick it as your word.”

“It was an Orlesian gentleman - and I use the term ‘gentleman’ very loosely,” shrugged Zevran. “He expressed a wish to see me mounted by his dog and his horse in turn. I disabused him of his notion.” His grin widened toothily. “With the point of my dagger.”

“Never mind… I’d ask for details but that would kill the mood.” Vic finished undressing and crawled into bed with his husband. “Do you wish rope, toys, or just me?” 

“Rope - yes, I would like that very much,” purred Zevran softly. “What else did you have in mind? Not a gag, I think, if it is my screams you wish to hear.”

“I dunno, that lovely thing you brought back from our trip, it makes you and Fenris both cuss in several languages. I might get you nice and open, use that on you while I ride you, keep you tied up and begging, like that idea?” Vic leaned in and nibbled at Zevran’s neck while he listened for a reply.

“Oh yes, _mi amor_ ,” groaned Zevran as he rolled his hips up against Invictus. “Yes, I would like that very much... and perhaps that little electricity trick that Anders is so good at - perhaps you would practice that upon me also?”

“Maybe, I’m still not great at it. Fenris smacked me the last time I tried it.” Vic laughed before he stretched over Zevran and got the rather large marble cock the elf had bought during their trip. “Oil please?”

Zevran rolled over and reached for the small vial of oil upon the nightstand, then glanced over his shoulder at Invictus as he passed it back to the mage. “And how will you improve if you do not practice?” he inquired. “I promise I shall not smack you. Particularly if you tie me up first.” He grinned.

“Well there is that...it is nice knowing I can play like this with you.” Vic said as he settled between the elf’s legs and slipped an oiled finger in. “Tell me when you want more.” 

Zevran laid his head down upon the bed and gave a very soft groan. “ _Mi amor_... yes,” he sighed. “Please, more....”

“As you wish.” Vic oiled two more fingers and worked them in while he leaned over Zevran to keep biting at his neck and ears. “Insatiable...I do love that about you.” 

Zevran tilted his head a little more to one side, baring more of his throat to Invictus’ teeth. “Harder,” he whispered. As Invictus’ finger thrust then twisted inside him, the elf closed his eyes and shuddered, a low, throaty groan escaping his lips.

“Spread your legs for me.” Vic whispered as he sat back and oiled the marble cock up with a devious grin. “Ready?”

Zevran leaned forward and braced himself on his forearms as he lifted his hips slightly and spread his legs. “I am ready,” he nodded.

At the first touch of the heavy cold marble against his entrance, Zevran let out a shocked cry as his fingers curled into the down comforter and his body stiffened. “ _Mi amor_ , that is... it is cold!” he managed to utter.

Invictus pulled it away and let his hands warm with a bit of fire magic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...It felt warm enough in my hands!” he continued to warm it and add more oil before he let it rest against Zevran’s ass. “That better?”

Zevran sighed. “Much,” he agreed. “It was... unexpected, no? But I am ready now.” As Invictus shifted a little on the bed, he could see the elf’s body visibly relaxing as Zevran took a deep breath then exhaled slowly.

“Sorry...I never want to hurt any of you, again.” Vic said as he slowly started to push the marble toy into Zevran, slowing if he saw a hint of discomfort from the elf. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, ok?”

Zevran’s eyes widened as he felt how large the toy was. “Slowly... slowly... ah, Maker, _mi amor_....” he whimpered softly, burying his face against the down comforter as he forced himself to keep breathing and stay relaxed. Faint swearing was barely audible from the elf, muffled by the fabric as Invictus slid the toy into him.

Vic slowed his movements until the toy was flush against the Antivan’s ass. He leaned over to press kisses to his shoulders and neck. “You alright? Think it’s safe for me to tie you up with that in?” 

Zevran held still for a moment, focusing on his breathing, then slowly nodded as he lowered himself to lie flat upon the bed. “This is... _mi amor_ , I... a moment, a moment please,” he panted softly.

“I can take it out, I don’t want you to hurt.” Vic replied as he waited for the request to stop such rough play.

Zevran lay on his stomach, his face buried against the bed covers still. The toy felt uncomfortably large, hard and heavy, stretching him wide in a way that he felt uncertain about. The thought of trying to move, much less roll over to allow Invictus to ride him, was rather daunting.

“You would not think less of me if I beg of you to take it out, _mi amor_?” he finally breathed.

“Not at all, I’d rather you be honest and not try to overestimate yourself.” Vic pulled the toy out gently, and went to clean it off, returning with a warm, soapy flannel and small wash basin. “let me take care of you...and you tell me what you need, or if you need to stop I’ll be happy with cuddling you and talking a bit more.” Vic offered.

Zevran rolled slowly over onto his back and stared up at Invictus. “I do not think I have ever been filled quite so full,” he confessed. “Perhaps I could bear a little cuddling and a little more gentleness for the moment. It is rarely I doubt my own abilities, but that... hmm, I think perhaps if I tried to bear that whilst you rode me, I might need Anders’ gentle touch afterwards and it would not be much fun, yes?”

“Sure you don’t need his help now? Though I don’t want to interrupt if he and Fenris are occupied.” Vic said as he turned Zevran back over and cleaned him up before he pulled the covers over them and tugged the elf over to him. “What can I do for you?”

“I am not hurt,” Zevran replied quietly. “It was uncomfortable; I am not a large man, after all, and though I do not break easily I still have my limits.” He glanced over at the marble phallus where Invictus had laid it aside upon the nightstand, and his eye widened. “That... _that_ is what was inside me??” 

“Yes, it is what you brought back from our trip. I mean… Fenris is bigger and you often let him shag you until you’re cussing his lineage back to Seheron.” Vic said.

Zevran smirked. “Ah, but Fenris is not made of marble, or I should curse him far more than simply back to his unfortunate ancestors upon that ill-fated isle!” he replied. “Invictus, that toy was never intended for _me_!” He chuckled. “Flesh and blood is more malleable than stone, and less likely to - well, to break me.” He glanced at Invictus. “Hmm, I do not think I would curse _your_ ancestors, were you to take me - unless you ask me very nicely.” He winked.

Vic realized he’d picked the wrong toy, but let it be for the moment, he was more concerned with making sure Zevran was alright. “Then who did you get that for? You could use it on me, if you wanted.” Vic offered coyly as he trailed his fingers down Zevran’s side as they lay there. Zevran chuckled.

“Would you believe, our dear Grand Enchanter?” the elf smirked. “He would look most fetching in rope, perhaps biting those soft lips as we ease it into him slowly, no? Ah, the soft noises he would make - you can imagine it, yes?” Zevran’s grin widened as he noted the way Invictus’ eyes darkened and his cheeks flushed a little; he could feel the mage’s cock give a definite twitch of interest against his thigh. “Ah, yes, you _can_ imagine it,” purred Zevran softly.

“Maker yes...I enjoy being on top with you both. I know it’s a privilege for you to let me do so. Maybe the next time we all play together we could do that? Let Fenris watch before we let him join? He really likes watching you know.” Vic said before he leaned in to bite Zevran again, knowing the elf liked it.

Zevran groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he rolled onto his back, tugging Invictus on top of him. “Yes... yes, you may do that,” he groaned as he threw his head back and bared his throat to Invictus again. He cried out softly as the mage obliged him.

“Have to be careful, I’m a shit healer at best.” Vic murmured against his throat. “If you trust me and want me to do more than bite, I’m game.” 

Zevran opened his eyes and stared up at Invictus. “I trust you,” he replied quietly. He glanced over to the box where he knew Invictus kept rope, then back to the mage.

“Good to know, I haven’t done a lot to earn it until recently.” Vic said before he reached over for the rope. “How do you want to be tied?”

“Upon my back, wrists only I think,” Zevran said after a moment’s thought. “I wish to be able to see your face.”

Hawke nodded before he tied the Antivan’s wrists together, and made sure to leave some slack for him to move around if needed. “How’s that?”

Zevran twisted his wrists experimentally in the rope bonds, then nodded, satisfied. “I am comfortable,” he smiled. “But not _too_ comfortable. Now, I am bound and at your mercy; what will you do with me, Ser Mage?” There was a wicked twinkle in the elf’s eyes, and his cock was showing decided interest in proceedings.

“I think I want to taste you, make you beg me to fuck you.” Vic said before he slipped down to lap at Zevran’s cock, slowly before he took the elf in his mouth and hummed as he bobbed his head.

Zevran closed his eyes and groaned as he felt his cock slowly swallowed down by the moist warmth of the mage’s mouth. He breathed slowly, deeply, pushing down the urge to snap his hips up to meet that heat, instead keeping himself still. “Yes... good....” he groaned. His hands had slowly curled into fists, his wrists straining unconsciously against the rope, unable to touch Invictus as he worked the sunkissed flesh steadily with his mouth.

Vic went faster, his tongue lapping at the head of the elf’s cock when he pulled away for a breath, and again before he took him down further. He continued to hum with each bob of his head, fingers digging into the covers.

Zevran was beginning to make faint whimpering sounds as he writhed slowly beneath Invictus, his breath coming faster until he was quietly panting. “Invictus... _mi amor_....” he managed, blinking at the ceiling as he fought hard against the urge to thrust up into that inviting wetness as heat coiled insistently in his groin like a slow, irresistible and inexorable wave that was mounting heat upon heat. “Please,” he whimpered, then bit his lip.

Vic pulled back and grinned at him. “Please, what?”

Zevran closed his eyes and bit his lip harder, exhaling slowly through his nose as he fought down the urge to follow that warmth and the touch of the mage’s tongue.

“You don’t ask, you don’t get fucked Zev.” Vic said before he went back to sucking his husband, just a lot slower with a lot of smoldering looks sent his way.

Zevran gritted his teeth, his breathing decidedly more ragged now. He couldn’t keep from occasional twitches and shudders as Invictus teased him with lips and tongue. He was straining harder against the ropes now.

“ _Mi amor_ ,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please. I want you inside me. Do you wish to hear me beg?”

Vic licked his way up Zevran’s cock before he gave him a filthy smile. “I did say I wanted you to beg, but you look so eager I won’t deny you much longer.” he got the oil and made sure he used more than usual before sliding two fingers gently into his husband. “Wanna be sure you’re nice and slick for me.”

“Please,” Zevran begged, his voice cracking slightly. “ _Mi amor._ I....” He broke off and moaned as Invictus’ fingers reached deeper and then twisted inside him just _so_. He managed to lift his head to stare down at the mage, his eyes slightly glazed and a thin sheen of sweat upon his brow. Wisps of hair had come loose from his braids, plastering themselves to his sweat-slicked skin, only adding to the whole wanton air as he stared at Invictus.

Vic tugged Zevran until he was in a position where he could take his husband and not strain the bonds he’d put on him. He watched carefully for a hint of pain or discomfort as he slid slowly into the elf. “Better?”

His answer was a low, throaty groan as the elf slowly rolled his hips and ground back onto his cock as far as he was able. Zevran lifted his legs and wrapped them around Invictus’ waist, crossing his ankles against the small of the larger man’s back and pulling him closer.

“Move,” Zevran urged him hoarsely, staring at him intently, his hands clenched into fists within the rope coils.

“As the gentleman requests.” Vic said before he snapped his hips and gave Zevran a filthy look as he put his back into pleasuring his spouse, eager to hear how he liked it. 

“Lightning,” Zevran begged, licking his lips briefly, unable to tear his eyes away from Invictus’ expression as the mage pounded into him. His breaths were coming now as shuddering gasps.

Vic let lightning dance around on his fingertips before he tweaked the elf’s nipples, then began to trail his fingers down Zevran’s body, he arched an eyebrow in question as he hovered around his cock. Zevran cried out as he felt the electricity spark across his skin, following the mage’s fingertips slowly down his body, and he arched his spine as he pushed up into that lightning touch. He groaned as he sank back down onto the bed, his body quivering beneath the mage, and as he stared at Invictus’ fingers hovering over his cock, he felt his mouth go dry.

He slowly nodded. “Please,” he begged.

“Use your word if it’s too much…” Vic panted as he slowed down a bit to keep his own climax back. He curled his fingers around Zevran’s cock and stroked slowly, counter to his thrusts as he tried to hold back from coming too soon. “Zev… Zev… Maker...oh ffffffuck.” 

“Close,” whimpered Zevran. “Please... again... so close....” He bit his lip and groaned, the sound reverberating low in his chest as he let his head drop back onto the bed. “Please....”

Vic let more lighting flow as he sped up his strokes and watched Zevran’s every reaction as if to memorize them. “Come...let go for me.” 

With each touch, each spark of electricity, Zevran’s body twitched and jerked, the elf’s eyes open wide until finally upon the final touch he threw his head back and screamed as his body arched into Invictus’ touch and he came, hard. His body shuddered almost violently as he clenched down inside upon Invictus’ cock, and then he collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes slowly fluttering closed as he went limp, panting raggedly as his chest heaved, his legs slipping down to the bed.

Vic pulled his hand away quickly, and thrust faster until he came, calling Zevran’s name with each slowed thrust until he stopped, panting with his head hung down almost to the elf’s chest. “Gimme a minute… I’ll untie you.”

Zevran’s eyes flickered open to gaze at Invictus, unfocused; he licked his lips, still panting. After a moment he managed to nod, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Invictus pulled free of his husband so he could untie the elf’s hands and rub his wrists until he got some of the feeling back in them. “You ok?” 

Zevran nodded. “Water, please,” he managed. His movements were still uncoordinated, his gaze still a little unfocused; he made a half-hearted attempt to sit up but gave up when his arms refused to take his weight.

Vic did as he was asked, and slipped an arm under Zevran to help him finish off the first glass he brought to him. He only moved to bring more to the side table and to clean them up. As he took care of Zevran, he was quiet, his thoughts going to earlier how intensely he’d been connected to his Antivan spouse. 

Zevran rested quietly against him, his head leaning against Invictus’ shoulder; after a moment, he felt the elf turn his head lightly, and then Zevran gently pressed a featherlight kiss to the mage’s neck, then another, and then another. Slowly he kissed his way along the line of Invictus’ jaw. “ _Mi amor_ ,” he murmured softly.

“That much Antivan I understand.” Vic said quietly as he leaned in to return Zevran’s affection but almost leapt off the bed when the door crashed open to show a disheveled Tevinter elf ready for a fight, or worse. 

“Fenris! What in the Void is wrong with you?” Vic yelped.

“I heard Zevran screaming, and I finally got away from Anders...to come and ...oh, it was _that_ kind of screaming?” he asked as he shut the door and covered his face in embarrassment.

Zevran had reacted the moment the door burst open, going in an instant from drowsily-affectionate and sated to tense, alert and poised to attack as he crouched defensively in front of Invictus, a blade appearing from out of thin air in his hand, or so it appeared as he stared at Fenris with unnervingly-blank and cold eyes.

Then the assassin blinked and straightened as he lowered the blade and smiled at Fenris, the warmth returning to his golden gaze. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he greeted him as he laid the dagger upon the nightstand.

“ _Lo siento, cariadad._ I’ll just go, and send a locksmith tomorrow, I’m so sorry.” Fenris muttered. 

“Love, you alright? If Zev had been screaming in a bad way…” Vic fell silent at the look he was given.

“Fenris should know by now that in such circumstances, I would be unlikely to scream,” Zevran shrugged. “But then, one can never tell.” He stepped closer to Fenris and lifted a hand to gently caress the other elf’s cheek. “And so it is good that you are alert, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. He leaned up on tiptoe to press a kiss to Fenris’ lips.

“I’m sorry, I ruined your fun didn’t I?” Fenris said as he leaned down to accept the other elf’s kiss. “I’ll just go, I’m sorry.”

“Not ruined, _carissimi_ ,” answered the Antivan with a shrug. “Though if you had burst in half an hour sooner, perhaps we might not be quite so forgiving!” He winked.

Invictus had risen and shut the door with a frown. He’d jumped mostly because of the loud noise from Fenris breaking the lock and bar across the door. “Love...um, I think we’ll need a locksmith tonight, this is shattered.”

Fenris turned and made a face at the remains of the lock and bar. “I did that? I just ran into the door I didn’t think I could ...I’m sorry Vic. I’ll get someone to fix this, I’m so sorry.” 

“No need for all that love, you were just worried for Zevran. Go get some nails and a hammer from the carpenter, and I can patch it enough to last till tomorrow.” Vic gave him a smile and tried to reassure Fenris that it was fine. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit.” Fenris hurried out, leaving Invictus and Zevran to deal with things until he returned.

Zevran crossed to the sideboard where he knew Invictus kept various bottles and assorted liquors. “A drink, I think; that was a most unexpected end to our trysting, no? Such a rush of adrenaline requires a drink afterwards.” He picked up the bottle of Starkhaven malt he knew the mage favoured and held it up as he glanced at Invictus in mute query.

“Sure, I think that would do well. Maybe give him one when he returns yes?” Vic said as he took the tumbler and resumed his spot on the bed.

“Indeed; I think Fenris’ composure was likewise shaken. Still, you _did_ say you would make me scream....” Zevran smiled as he poured out a second glass of the single malt then got a brandy for himself. He returned to the bed and sat down upon the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up beneath himself as he raised his glass. “To our continued good health and the regaining of Fenris’ composure!”

“Poor love, maybe we should talk him down? Unless he runs off as soon as the door is fixed.” Vic offered.

Zevran glanced at the broken remains of the lock and bar, his expression growing serious. “His strength is truly remarkable. He may be worried that such a display of his strength may have unnerved us,” he mused thoughtfully, and then grimaced. “No, it is _I_ he will be worried he has frightened; I shall have to reassure him otherwise.” He sighed. “My reaction to the changes in him at the start were most unfortunate and I regret it now.”

“He’s worried, I could tell that. Try and keep him here if he decides to run away.” Vic said as he got up and put on pants.

“I shall indeed,” nodded Zevran. “We cannot have him running away from me every time he demonstrates his strength, after all.”

Fenris returned with a hammer and nails which he handed to Invictus and turned to go. 

“Fenris?” said Zevran quietly. “I am sorry if I alarmed you, _carissimi_.” He rose from the bed and offered Fenris the glass of whisky. “Will you stay a moment?”

“I can’t, I left Anders tied. Let me take care of him and I will return, if you’ll allow it?” Fenris said quietly.

Zevran swore softly to himself and snatched up his pants, glancing at Invictus with a worried look as he hastily tugged them on. “Forgive me, _carissimi_. Let us accompany you; I did not mean distress to be caused to Anders also.”

“If you wish, I shouldn’t dawdle though, follow behind me.” Fenris dashed off to Anders rooms at a fast clip.

Anders was still tied spread-eagled across the bed upon his back; he was lying still, his eyes closed, as Fenris hurried in but opened his eyes when he heard the footsteps of Zevran and Invictus following behind. He was panting softly, biting his lip; his face was pale though he seemed to have himself under control.

“Hello, love,” he managed, his voice slightly strained; his eyes flicked to Zevran and Invictus. “Brought company?” He tried to smile.

“I’ll explain once I’ve freed you, I’m so sorry.” Fenris said as he quickly untied his husband and pulled him to his arms.

Anders swallowed hard then wrapped his arms around Fenris’ neck, burying his face against the elf’s shoulder. “I’m alright,” he said quietly. “I’m... I’m alright. I knew you were coming back.” After a moment he glanced up at Zevran. “I’m glad it was nothing serious - I assume you wouldn’t be here otherwise. I hope Fenris didn’t... ah....”

“We were relaxing afterwards,” shrugged Zevran. He took a step closer to the two men. “But you - dear heart, I think perhaps I have ruined _your_ evening. I am so sorry.”

“I shattered the door, I didn’t mean to!” Fenris said as he cuddled close to Anders.

“He merely broke the lock,” Zevran corrected as he perched on the edge of the bed behind Anders and lifted a hand to slowly rub the blond mage’s back. He glanced to Invictus.

“You frightened us both with that scream,” replied Anders, his voice quiet. “I think I’ve only heard you scream like that maybe once before.”

“Ah, the broodmother? I am surprised you could hear me over your own screaming!” teased Zevran.

“I was merely petrified - your leg had been nearly severed!” Anders pointed out. “I think you had far more reason to scream than I did!”

“Ah, that wasn’t from pain; I had merely seen what a nightmare your Chasind robes were,” Zevran shrugged. Anders began to giggle.

“Oh Maker. They _were_ a bit much, weren’t they?” he said with a watery grin. “Though that get-up I wore at the start in Tevinter was worse - at least the Chasind robes never made me faint.”

“No, only cause me to scream in horror,” Zevran smirked.

Fenris had hidden his face against Anders’ shoulder, and wanted them to go so he could be mortified in peace.

Anders rested his head on Fenris’ shoulder and glanced up at Invictus, then wordlessly held a hand out towards the other mage.

“Forgive me,” murmured Zevran again, softly. “You are trembling.” 

Anders bit his lip and said nothing, merely staring at Invictus as he held his hand out.

Vic slid into the bed and took Anders hand. “You alright love?” he asked as he tried to soothe the mage.

“I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m a little out of sorts. You know what being alone does to me - especially tied up. And Ellowynne’s asleep; I didn’t dare make a sound.” He gave Invictus a slightly shamefaced smile. “I was beginning to seriously consider just setting the ropes on fire, except I was afraid I might set the bed on fire too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Anders. I won’t do that again” Fenris said against his husband’s shoulder quietly.

“No, we were afraid for Zevran,” Anders disagreed. “It was more important you made sure he was OK. The Venatori still have an active presence in Ferelden - even if they’re hugely weakened - and it wouldn’t have been beyond the bounds of imagination to suspect they might stage an attack on the Inquisitor’s wedding night. I’d rather you went and left me tied up alone than that you’d stayed and one of us were badly hurt or worse. I’d face that over a thousand times than risk any one of you.”

“It was my fault,” said Zevran. “I forgot myself. I am sorry to have troubled you - _both_ of you,” he added, looking to Fenris.

Fenris sat up and wiped at his face before he went got Anders a cool drink. “Here, you probably could use this.” he said quietly.

“I can go get the whiskey if you want Fenris, unless you’d rather be alone with Anders now that the ...moment has passed?” Vic asked him. Zevran glanced up at Fenris, his hand still rubbing soothing circles against Anders’ back. Anders took the glass Fenris handed him then leaned back into Zevran’s arms as he sipped it, his eyes closing slowly.

“Excuse me for a moment, I’ll be back.” Fenris said before he ducked into the bathing chamber and shut the door. 

“I can’t tell if he wants to run or wants us to leave?” Vic said as he tried to stare a hole in the door.

Anders watched the elf flee to the bathing chamber and a small, distressed whimper escaped his lips before he leaned back against Zevran and reached for Invictus’ hand again. “Maker, I can’t do anything right,” he moaned quietly. “He’s so on edge all the time. The slightest thing sets me off and - and I’m sorry, this is all my fault, I should be over this damned hang-up of mine. I _knew_ he’d be coming back, it’s not like he left me to punish me, I just....” He groaned. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally finished in a small, plaintive voice.

Invictus went to the bathing chamber and shut the door to find Fenris in a corner, head on his knees and looking miserable. “Get on your feet and come back in here, he’s blaming himself for you running out. Stop this bullshit Fenris, you are not helping by reacting like this.” 

Fenris lifted his head just enough to peer at Invictus through a curtain of white hair.

“I left him bound even though I know only too well how he cannot tolerate such treatment. I can only wonder that he was not screaming when we returned - you did not hear him when we left him bound as punishment that once after we returned from Sundermount, Invictus. Though that was almost an hour and this was perhaps half that. But still... I hurt him needlessly.”

“He told you to check on Zevran, it’s not like you just up and ran off. Get on your damned feet and stop sulking, he needs you.” Vic said.

Fenris threaded his fingers into his hair and buried his hands against his knees. “I am not sulking,” he growled. “I needlessly distressed him - and I saw the way Zevran reacted. I terrified him again with my strength. I _broke your door_ and you say I am _sulking??_ ” He lifted his head and glared at Invictus. “I am becoming even more of a monster than even Danarius could have dreamed!”

Invictus reined in his temper before he started a shouting match with his husband. “You are being irrational, come back in here and stop this. Anders is distraught, even more so because you came in here to sulk. Dammit Fenris, you couldn’t help it. You were worried and reacted!” 

Fenris pushed himself to his feet, his anger giving way to worry. “Anders should not blame himself for how I reacted,” he said, worried. “ _Venhedis_ , I have done him wrong this night and I make it worse with every turn....” He pressed his palm against his forehead and groaned. “I am a fool. I did not think, and now my thoughtlessness is making everything worse.” 

“What is it? Why are you acting like this? You are making it out like you decided to stop in the middle, go take a damn stroll just to upset him and not because he told you to check on Zevran. Cut this out and go to our husband before he gets further upset!” Invictus snarled as he got in Fenris’ face and refused to give ground.

Fenris glared at Invictus then shoved him hard away from himself. The mage staggered back and almost fell as Fenris glared at him, fighting to control his breathing. 

There was a time when an angry mage pushing into his space would have caused him to recoil, spiralling down into old habits, afraid to arouse the ire of a magister; that was no longer the case. Fenris knew on an instinctive level that there was little any mortal mage could do to truly harm him any longer; where once he might have backed down from Invictus’ anger, now he held his ground and bared his teeth in a silent snarl before he took a step towards the other man.

“So it’s like this now? I push and you get ready to swing on me? Really Fenris? What is wrong with you?” Vic hissed as he kept his place, he was not going to back down.

Fenris unexpectedly laughed. “Wrong with me? For the first time you come at me in anger and instead of flinching I push back; instead of retreating mentally into the slave I once was, I stand my ground like the man I am - and you ask what is wrong with me?” He tilted his head slightly to one side, his mirth gone as fast as it had come. “Once, you would have been glad that I was not cowed by your anger. But not today, it seems.” He walked slowly towards Invictus.

“There is much that is wrong with me, Invictus,” he said in a low voice. “But this? Pushing back when you seek to let your anger push me into a corner? No. The day is long past when I will let any mage cause me fear. You should be glad that in all that is wrong with me, one thing at last is right.”

He stalked past the stunned mage and back into the room, not stopping until he stood beside the bed and was staring down at Anders.

Vic followed slowly, his expression closed off as he watched Anders and Fenris, unable to look at Zevran. “I’ll be in my room, fixing the door. Come back if you wish Zevran, or I’ll see you in the morning.”

Anders glanced from Fenris to Invictus with an expression of confusion. “Did I just miss something?” he asked quietly. “Vic?” He glanced back up at Fenris. “Did... oh Maker. Did you two just fight? Over me?” His eyes darkened with guilt and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry!”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for Anders.” Vic said as he glanced at Fenris then back at the mage. 

“It’s not you my heart.” Fenris said as he caressed the blond’s face.

“Then... what?” asked Anders, glancing between the two men. “Because this... whatever happened between you two in there... it didn’t happen until this, my being so damned weak, you were _fine_ , this... how is it not my fault?”

“It’s not you Anders, trust me.” Vic said again, but he stepped away from the door and settled in a chair by the bed. 

Fenris sat across from him and grabbed the wine, his expression dark as he glanced between the mages in the room.

Anders clutched at his hair and made a low note of frustration as Zevran wrapped his arms around the slender mage and pulled him gently back into his embrace. Anders let himself be pulled back into the elf’s arms, his eyes closed. Zevran glanced from Fenris to Invictus, his expression troubled.

“Someone please tell me what in the name of Andraste’s flaming puckered arse is going on then,” said Anders tersely, not opening his eyes. “Because this _feels_ like my fault. And I want to understand what happened.” He opened his eyes and glanced to Invictus.

“I told Fenris to stop blaming himself and sulking, so he bucked up against me and put me in my place. So I came out to go, I need to be alone for a while or at least not around him for a while until I get myself under control.” Vic said.

Anders groaned and let his head drop back onto Zevran’s shoulder. “Oh Maker. You’re as bad as each other. You accuse _him_ of retreating and sulking, you got angry at him, and this time he stood up to you instead of backing down - so now _you’re_ going to go away and sulk?” He stared at the ceiling. “And that’s going to help precisely how?”

Zevran murmured something in Anders’ ear; Anders grimaced and pulled away from him then stared at Fenris then Invictus. “No. No, you’re both damned well going to act like the grown men you are, sit the _fuck_ down and and actually _talk_ for once. We are _not_ going to do this again, do you hear me?” He turned to Invictus. “You’ve been wishing he’d stand up to you when you get angry for _years_. Don’t you _dare_ get pissy when he finally does it.” He turned back to Fenris. “And _you_ \- you’re worse than I am for assuming everything is your fault. If I’m not allowed to get away with that, then why should you be? Stop damned well running away and hiding when there’s a problem and for the Maker’s sakes, _talk_ to us!”

The anger left Anders abruptly as he stared at Fenris with hurt eyes. “Love, we’re married now - all four of us. That means we have a duty to each other to work these things out. Not shut everyone else out - but _tell_ the others what’s going on in our hearts. It terrifies me when I see you shut yourself away like that, because I find myself wondering what comes next. Whether the day will come when you’ll choose not to come back.” 

Fenris set the bottle down on the floor, and wrung his hands as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I left you alone, tied up. I broke down the damned door and all I wanted, all I needed was a few minutes to myself to get my head right. I didn’t need Vic chasing me down and cornering me.” 

Anders nodded slowly. “Zevran sounded as though he was seriously hurt and we were both afraid for him. It would have taken too long to untie me so we could both go,” he said quietly. “It made sense to leave me tied up whilst you went to his aid if needed. I would not come to any physical harm.” He glanced to Invictus, waiting for his explanation.

“I was tired of his running off, and when he bucked up at me, I ...I didn’t know what to do, I thought he was going to hurt me so I just needed to leave for a while. I was going to come back, if you all wanted me to.” Vic replied. 

“You didn’t know how to handle Fenris standing up for himself,” said Anders quietly. “Even though you must have been getting in his face pretty aggressively, I’m guessing.” He glanced to Fenris, who was still for a moment then nodded, not looking up at Invictus. Anders sighed, then turned back to the other mage. “Love, Fenris has never hurt you. He’s simply never stood up to you before - because thanks to that bastard Danarius, it was almost part of him at a fundamental level, the instinctive level, the understanding that standing up to an angry mage would mean pain and punishment. It’s taken him over a decade to finally break that - and to know that even if the mage _did_ hurt him, he could likely break that mage anyway. Neither Danarius nor any other mage will ever have that hold over him again. And whilst perhaps this was not the easiest way for any of us to learn it, can you honestly say you would have him any other way?” He stared at Invictus with a pleading look. “Can you let your anger go, love, and recognise what he did just now? What he could only do for himself?”

“I’m not angry, I’m just shaken.” Vic said sullenly. “I’m happy Fenris has stood up to me, but I am still shaken.”

“I wouldn’t have hit you, no matter how angry I was in there.” Fenris said.

“Love,” said Anders quietly. “There’s only one person in this room that Fenris has ever lashed out at in anger - and I know in my heart that he will never do it again. I trust Fenris with my life; I have placed my life repeatedly in his hands since that day. If I can trust Fenris that implicitly, then are you honestly saying you cannot do the same?” He glanced at Fenris. “My life is safe in your hands; I know this with a certainty beyond knowing the sun will rise in the morning,” he said, his voice low and calm. “And I know with that same certainty that you would not harm Vic, or Zevran, or Hal.” 

“I would not hurt you, I still feel bad about that time.” Fenris said as he rubbed his eyes. “Can we just call tonight done? My head hurts.” 

Anders let his head drop, and sighed. “I just want - I wish I could _fix_ this,” he murmured. “I don’t want this feeling between you two. I just want us all to be happy and love each other, and I just -” He rubbed at his eyes slowly, his breath hitching. “It was _so good_ , and then this happened, and now - now it’s not,” he managed plaintively.

“I didn’t fall out of love over one tiff.” Vic said.

“What do you want right now Anders? What will soothe you?” Fenris asked.

Anders lifted his head slowly; his eyes were red and his cheeks wet with tears. “Stay. Both of you... please? Can we... just sleep together? Not just all run away in different directions, but just... stay. I want you here. _All_ of you.” He stared at Invictus, then Fenris, pleadingly. “Please.”

“Sure, let me just lock the door.” Fenris did that then waited for Vic to climb in before he crawled in behind Zevran, leaving the Antivan elf pressed against Anders’ chest, and though he closed his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t sleep any time soon.

Anders’ eyes were falling closed even as Zevran tugged him back to the pillows; between the large amount of mead he’d drunk after a long, exhausting day, the strenuous activity with Fenris both during and after the reception and then the emotional upheaval of the past hour, he was swiftly asleep. 

Zevran glanced at Invictus, exchanging worried yet rueful glances with the mage before closing his own eyes; he seemed to drop into a deep, dreamless sleep shortly afterwards - though of course, with the Antivan assassin, it was impossible to tell.

Invictus pressed a kiss against Anders’ shoulder and apologized as they lay there, his own eyes closed but not sleeping.

Fenris sighed. “Your snoring would fool no-one, Vic,” he murmured quietly after a while, not opening his own eyes.

“Not trying to fool anyone, I thought you were actually asleep.” Vic sniped.

“At least I had more sense than to pretend to snore,” replied Fenris drolly. 

“Drop it, we’ve already upset Anders enough tonight. No need to wake him up with arguing. You can not sleep quietly and I’ll do the same.” Vic replied. 

Fenris sighed. “I wasn’t trying to argue, Vic,” he said quietly. He was silent for a while; he could hear and feel Invictus shifting onto his back impatiently. After a while, he opened his eyes again. “Anders was right,” he said softly. “We should not fight like this, love.”

“Lesson learned, if you go off by yourself I’ll let you be. I know he was right.” Vic replied without opening his eyes. 

“I should not have walked away,” replied Fenris, his voice low and remorseful.

“I just wanted you to come out and face Anders, just… let it go, please.” Vic said with a frown.

Fenris sat up and reached across the two sleeping men towards Invictus. “I love you,” he said softly. “And I am sorry. I do not wish us to fight, Invictus. We have been together for so long. Please. I will try to do better.” His eyes glittered in the dark left by the single candle Anders always insisted on leaving burning.

“I love you too Fenris, I don’t want a fight either.” Vic said quietly as he looked to the elf. “Let’s lie by the fireplace, I can’t get comfortable, this bed isn’t meant for four men.”

Fenris nodded and slipped off the bed and pulled a blanket over with him so he and Vic could curl up by the fire. He turned to bury his face against Vic’s chest and apologized again as they lay there.

“It’s fine, I know you’re sorry...let’s just get some sleep.” Vic wrapped his arm around the elven warrior until he fell asleep. Fenris finally followed but not until the sky had begun to lighten and the rest of the Keep began to stir. The others left him to sleep as they woke up, leaving him be until breakfast and hopefully a better start to the day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris surprises Vic and Anders, and they all get a pleasant start to the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter like whoa.
> 
> D/s, toys, threesome.

Vic sighed and stretched after they were done, reluctant to leave his spouses, even if apologies had been given and accepted. He hugged Fenris around the shoulders and kissed him. “Sorry I was such a dick last night, I love you Fen.”

Fenris shrugged ruefully. “I do not think either of us were at our best last night, love,” he admitted. “Too much wine and a long day, though that is no excuse really.”

“I still feel bad, I wasn’t even ...I was snippy when you tried to make it right before we finally fell asleep. Forgive me?” Vic asked softly. Fenris leaned into his touch and nodded.

“You are forgiven - as am I, I hope?” He glanced to the mage, still not really used to being able to meet his gaze without needing to look up any more.

“Very much so, I can’t be upset for something I wanted for you for years. I’m proud of you love.” Vic leaned in and kissed Fenris, pleased when he felt the elf’s hand cup the back of his head. Fenris gave a rumbling approval as he slowly deepened the kiss.

There was the sound of a throat being cleared behind them. “Uh, I... would you like me to come back later?” asked Anders hesitantly. “I brought breakfast from the kitchens, but I can always go eat mine in the infirmary....”

Vic turned and gave his husband a smile. “Well, we did interrupt your evening last night...no one said we had to skip breakfast.” 

Anders set the tray down on the table, kicking the door closed behind himself. “I brought enough for all of us apart from Zevran - he had to go deal with a whole stack of reports that came in. Something to do with odd Qunari movements I think.” He started removing covers from dishes then set out three mugs and poured coffee for them all.

“I should find him later, and talk about last night. He was silent and that’s never good.” Fenris said as he reluctantly let Vic go in favor of food. 

“Don’t fret too much love, let’s have a nice start to the day yeah? I doubt anyone will be looking for us after the party last night.” Vic said as he got his own plate.

“The great hall was rather empty this morning,” Anders smirked. “I think a lot of people will be nursing hangovers. I’ll admit I was feeling a little fragile myself this morning, but thankfully elfroot tea dealt with it enough to be able to work a little healing on myself. Speaking of which,” he added, lifting a hand that glowed faintly blue, “Either of you need a little pick-me-up?”

“I’m bruised from running into the door but other than that I’m ok.” Fenris replied before he dug into his meal.

“I could yeah, I thought sitting on cold tiles was a good idea for a while, and well... I wasn’t gentle with Zev. It’s what he wanted!” Vic added as if either men with him would say a word about it.

Anders merely lifted an eyebrow but said nothing as he moved to lay a hand gently on Fenris; shoulder, careful to avoid the swirls of lyrium as he channelled a little healing into him. He reached his other hand out to gently press it against the small of Invictus’ back and let healing flow into him too.

“Won’t that tire you out?” Fenris asked, surprised at Anders being able to heal them both easily. 

“Yeah, Dorian made it seem like healing two people at once should be impossible. But you’re doing it with no effort. You are something else love.” Vic said as he felt Anders hand trail up his back once he was done. 

“Did he?” said Anders, surprised. “Well, it depends on what I’m healing. Relieving a little bruising and stiffness is fairly trivial; it’s more a case of being able to concentrate and direct the magic in two directions at once. But with Llyria, it’s easier to focus on two things at the same time. It would be far more taxing if I were dealing with wounds from fighting.” He glanced at Fenris. “Trying to heal both you and Zevran after Meneris took down Corypheus was draining and difficult, but I had to at least try. Though Vic could tell you how wiped out I was afterwards.” He glanced to the other mage with a rueful grin.

“Yeah.” Fenris said as he went for his coffee and leaned back with a sigh. “I am not looking forward to the first time we have to address the Senate.” he said for want of something to discuss besides nearly dying and how bad it was for all of them. 

Anders sat down and stirred honey into his own coffee slowly. “I must admit I feel rather apprehensive about that myself,” he admitted. “Part of Dorian’s plans to start reforming Tevinter include closer co-operation with the Inquisition and with the new system of Colleges that Leliana and I have been discussing together - which means me going to Tevinter to address the Magisterium, the whole state visit business. Dorian thinks we should all make the first official visit together - a sort of show of strength for the Inquisition, as it were.”

“Would you think less of me for admitting I’m nervous?” Fenris asked quietly.

“Never, this won’t be easy for you I’m guessing.” Vic said.

“Maker, no, love!” exclaimed Anders. “I’m frankly terrified, myself. I think if it weren’t for knowing you and Dorian will both be coming then I’d be strongly tempted to run away and hide and make Meneris and Leliana bloody well pick a new Grand Enchanter, frankly.”

“Too late, you already signed the contract love.” Vic teased. 

“It’s alright, I keep debating giving up my position.” Fenris said before he reached over for a scone. “I’ve been meaning to ask...does it bother either of you that I decided on Leto for official business?” 

Anders stirred his spoon through a bowl of sweetened oatmeal and frowned slightly. “A little,” he confessed. “You used to be so adamant that you weren’t Leto - that Leto was who you once were, but Fenris is who you are. I mean, what you choose to call yourself is entirely up to you love - I’m just curious as to why you changed your mind?” He glanced up at Fenris and tilted his head a little to one side.

“I’m not, I figured you had your reasons and I had no right to question it.” Vic said with a shrug.

Fenris fidgeted with his rings, a slight frown on his face as he considered Anders’ reply. “Fenris is...my slave name what he made me, and I didn’t know who Leto was anymore. He was a boy I never knew, never got to be. But I didn’t...I didn’t want to walk back into the Senate using a name forced on me by the man who’d owned me, Anders. I’ve fought so fucking hard to grow up, to just not be a slave in word and deed, and I didn’t want to let the Imperium know me by that name. Leto is who he stole from me and I’m not giving that up a second time. I ...remember my life before, thanks to Mythal. I know who I was, I haven't spoken on it much...but Her boon unlocked the memories hidden by all that I’d suffered and his spells.” Fenris looked to them for a moment before he became incredibly interested in the remains of his breakfast.

Anders’ eyes widened. “You... you remember everything?” he said in a hushed tone, then leaned forward. “But... love, this is fantastic! Everything that you were, that Danarius stole from you - Mythal gave that back to you?” A grin slowly spread across his face. “I had no idea - that’s just wonderful!” 

“It is, and it isn’t. Some things I could have lived the rest of my life not knowing. Others...I remember my sister, my mother, but talking more of it will not be a good start to the day for me. Forgive me.” Fenris said quietly.

Vic laid his hand over Fenris’ and gave him a squeeze. “Whatever you need love, ok?”

“I’m sorry, love,” said Anders contritely. He lowered his gaze to his bowl of oatmeal and stirred it slowly. “So... should _we_ all be calling you Leto now?”

Fenris shook his head no and frowned. “I don’t ...I haven’t made up my mind, mostly because I’m still working through it for myself. I’ve been Fenris so long, it’s confusing to hear myself say Leto.” He laughed bitterly before he shoved his plate back. “Can we maybe just pick up where we left off last night and not discuss this?”

Anders grimaced. “I seem to be just putting my foot in it this morning,” he sighed. “Sorry, love, of course we can drop it. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.” He set down his spoon and reached for his coffee again.

“It’s ok… besides we did interrupt what looked to be a fun evening. Maybe I should make myself scarce and you two can have a redo of starting your day?” Vic offered.

Anders sipped his coffee slowly, watching Fenris over the rim of his cup, one eyebrow arching slightly in mute query when the elf glanced at him.

“I’d like that, after all Ellowynne is in class all day or we could go to my room and take the toybag with us?” Fenris said softly. 

Anders glanced at Invictus, then back at Fenris as he lowered his mug. “I... I’d like to spend time with both of you,” he admitted quietly as he lowered his eyes, his expression a little uncertain.

“Far be it from me to deny two handsome men who want me, of course if you want me there too Fenris?” Vic asked.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” he got up and packed the bag he’d brought from his room and headed for the door. “Let yourselves in, I’m going to get washed up and set things up for us. See you soon.” Fenris gave them both a kiss before he headed off to ready himself for a much better start to the day.

Once Fenris had gone, Anders leaned back in his chair with a relieved expression as he glanced up at Invictus. “I was worried he might say no,” he admitted quietly. “After last night, I was afraid to push.”

“I’m surprised he was still here in the morning to be honest, but sleeping later than the rest of us probably made it harder to sneak off. I’ll bet anything he decides to let us take lead though. He’s afraid of his strength, even with us.” Vic said before he got up and took Anders hand. “Come on love, let’s clean up ourselves and join our husband.”

Anders glanced down at his untouched oatmeal. “I should actually eat before we have fun,” he pointed out with a wry smile. He reached for his spoon and began to eat - not quite wolfing it down, but not dawdling over the bowl either.

“Yeah, it would unnerve us if you were to be faint. I’ll get cleaned up while you eat.” Vic didn’t dawdle, and returned just as Anders was setting their tray out. “Better love?” 

Anders nodded, sipping on a second cup of coffee. “I think I caused you all quite enough worry last night,” he agreed. “Let me just go freshen up myself.” He grinned as he set down his cup and headed towards the bathing chamber. 

Vic toyed with his sleeve while he waited for Anders, his mind wandering to what he had to get done once he returned to the College. He couldn’t take too much time away, but he wasn’t going in for at least one more day and he was going to enjoy himself. 

Anders reappeared a short while later and made his way to the wardrobe to pick out a clean outfit; he dressed swiftly in a clean white shirt and a long tunic in a dark grey twill. He scraped his hair back into a ponytail. “Shall we?” he smiled.

“Oh we shall. You look good, love. Did you get that made, it’s not the Orlesian styled stuff you’ve been wearing while on duty.” Vic took his hand and led them to Fenris’ rooms.

“Yes, it’s based on what I remember my people back in the Anderfels wearing,” said Anders. “We moved to Ferelden when I was six, but my parents and I still wore what we’d worn back home. At some point I want to take Ellowynne to the Anderfels, to see where I came from.”

“She’d like that I bet.” Vic said before they entered and found a rather interesting sight. Fenris sat cross legged upon the bed, ropes already run through the rings on the headboard and the toys he’d brought with him to Anders room laid out on the nightstand. He gave them a smile as they entered and waited for one of them to notice the red silken rope laid out in front of him.

Anders stared at the ropes, then down at the red silk rope in front of Fenris before looking at the elf himself. “It looks like you have some very definite ideas in mind, love,” he observed. He glanced to Invictus as his hands went to the collar of his tunic and began to slowly unlace it.

The elf picked up the rope and played with it as he watched Anders undress. “So...there’s a reason, and I think Vic has a hint of why I picked red. However, when I played with Bull, he used red rope on me, it was a good experience. I’ve been, skittish about that kind of play since his betrayal, but with the realization last night that I really have nothing to fear from ...a mage, nor either of you I decided to push that last boundary I have.” 

He wrapped the rope around his wrist as he turned to stare at Invictus. “When you joined us Anders, you saw through why Vic let me ...abuse him as I did. I also refused to let either of you take control of me when we moved beyond that, because of my old fears. I want to shed that with you, both of you. It’s not because we fought, or because I feel the need to apologize by letting you do as you wish. I want you both to know I’ve lost that last barrier to what we have together. I’m giving you my trust to bind me, to lead me because I know you won’t hurt me, either of you. Do you consent to this?” Fenris asked as he waited for their answer.

Anders had removed his tunic and now paused as he was in the act of removing his shirt to stare at Fenris a little uncertainly. He looked again at the ropes attached to the bed, the toys laid out, and finally at the silken rope the elf had wrapped around his wrist before he turned to Invictus to see what his answer would be. Anders’ mouth had gone dry, and he didn’t quite trust himself to speak just yet. Of all the things he might have expected when they walked into the room, this wasn’t it.

Vic went to the bed and kissed Fenris in answer. “I ...I’m honored you’re doing this love, thank you.” he said quietly.

“Sorry it took me so long to allow this between us, I’ve trusted you for years but I’ve been too afraid to take this step.” Fenris said before he looked to Anders for his answer. The blond mage ran a hand through his hair, tugging the hair tie loose as he sought for words.

“Sorry,” he said belatedly, realising both Fenris and Invictus were waiting for him to respond. “This is... not what I was expecting. Not that really I had any idea what to expect but -” He blinked. “I’m flattered and honoured that you trust me, us, this deeply.”

Fenris gave him a shy smile, and held his hand out to Anders. “What did you expect?” 

Anders hesitantly took his hand. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “This... you really want this from us? Honestly, truly?”

“Yes, why would you doubt me? I finally know my heart, and am handing it to both of you.” Fenris asked as he rubbed the back of Anders’ hand with his thumb.

“Because - because I know how adamant you were about not putting yourself into the hands of mages, love,” said Anders quietly. “And I’m... just a little stunned by how much trust you’re giving us. It’s like... if I were to place myself in Cullen’s hands, really. Not that I am! Going to do something like this with Cullen, I mean,” he added hastily, aware he was now beginning to babble. “And maybe I should just shut up now.” He could feel his cheeks starting to burn.

Fenris glanced down and frowned. “If you don’t want to it's fine. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable Anders.” 

Vic glanced at Anders and raised an eyebrow. He knew the significance of what Fenris was offering but he wouldn’t push Anders for it either if he wasn’t comfortable with it.

“It’s not that!” exclaimed Anders. “Maker, I swear it’s not. I’m just -” He closed his eyes, and swallowed hard then dropped to his knees and took Fenris’ hand with both his own as he pressed a gentle kiss to the lyrium-lined backs of the elf’s fingers. “Forgive me. I’m making a mess of this. What I’m trying to say is... thank you. For your love, and for the huge trust you’re giving us. I just don’t know how to put into words how much this means.”

“Ok… I just want all of us to enjoy this.” Fenris crawled over to kiss Anders again, slow and easy as he carded his fingers through his hair. “This is important for me, for us. Thank you both.” he said before he unwrapped the silken cord and placed it in Anders hands. “You know how much I enjoy breath play, thanks to you. You know what it’s like to have the pressure against your throat as you submit, I want you to give that to me, my husband.” 

“You - you want _me_ to do that?” Anders glanced wide-eyed up at Invictus then back to Fenris. “I thought - Vic’s always been the dominant one over me, I’d assumed....”

“Oh Vic will get to do things to me too, I just want you to do this first before you two have your way with me.” Fenris gave him a shy smile as he brushed his hair aside and turned for Anders to do as he asked.

“You want me to strangle you?” said Anders as he got slowly back up to his feet again. He glanced to Invictus again as though for reassurance.

Fenris glanced over his shoulder and shook his head no. “Not with your hands, I...I’ve found I like a rope around my neck as a collar.” 

“Do you even know how to tie one?” Vic asked. Anders shook his head wordlessly.

“I do, watch and I’ll show you.” Vic said as he took the rope and slid into Anders’ place. He went slow so Anders could watch and see the way he looped the rope around Fenris’ neck. “There, now you try.” 

“Invictus...how do you know how to do that?” Fenris asked as he felt the cord slip from around his neck.

“Same place you learned you like this to begin with.” Vic said before he turned his attention back to Anders.

“I see.” Fenris replied as he tilted his head forward again and waited.

Anders took the rope and stared at it, letting it slip through his fingers slowly, the silk smooth against his skin. He took a deep breath then stepped behind Fenris and dropped the first loop of rope about the elf’s throat. As his fingers worked slow yet carefully, he found he had to remember to breathe when he found himself subconsciously holding his breath several times. His hands were trembling and he was slightly lightheaded when he finally stepped back and looked to Invictus to inspect his work.

“Excellent love, you’re a fast study.” Vic said as he slipped two fingers underneath to see how slack it was. “Fenris, how does it feel?” 

“It’s good. Not too tight, just enough pressure when I breathe.” he let his hair fall once more then turned around to kiss Anders in thanks. “It’s ok, really.” 

Anders nodded, still not entirely trusting himself to speak. He felt more than a little out of his depth, truth to tell; Fenris had rather turned things upside down on them since they’d entered the room, and it had the mage feeling decidedly off-kilter. Anders was no stranger to playing dominant in the bedroom - but never with Fenris, and a submissive Fenris asking to be bound was something completely unknown to him and it had rather shaken up his world view. 

Fenris tilted his head slightly at Anders’ silence. “Sure you’re up to this? I am concerned love...you, are you truly alright from yesterday, is this ok?” 

Vic remained quiet, unsure what was bothering Anders but he didn’t want to ruin things by making assumptions. He let his fingers trail down Fenris’ back gently, slowly as they spoke.

Anders moved around to sit on the end of the bed. “I’m alright, I’m just... this is a side of you I’ve never seen before, love,” he confessed. “It’s taking me a little while to get my head around it is all.” He frowned slightly as he idly tugged at one of the ropes tied to the foot of the bed, toying with it. “I’m just so used to being the submissive one where you and Invictus are concerned, so I’m just feeling a bit....” He shrugged, unsure how to put into words the disorienting feeling he was experiencing in a way that wouldn’t worry the elf even more than he already seemed to be doing.

Fenris swallowed and raised his hand to the rope around his neck. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, we can try this another time.” 

“Fenris...no, don’t.” Vic slipped his fingers under the collar and tugged just a bit. “Do you want this, that’s the question I want answered.”

Anders looked to Invictus again. “Will you take the lead?” he asked softly. “I don’t think I can do this if you both expect me to be in charge - I really don’t think I can handle having my world turned quite _that_ much on its head. But if you are the one in control then yes, I think I can do this. Either you directing me - or you directing Fenris, whichever works for you both?” He glanced back to Fenris. “How far does your submission - your... need? How far does it go?”

Fenris swallowed as he stared at Anders, and tried to keep himself together, not quite ready to let them see what Vic was doing to him. “Vic can lead, I’m fine with that.” he took Anders hands again and smile. “Complete, utter surrender. If I can’t do this or something ...makes me want to stop, I’ll say Seheron. If I can manage that, you’ll both know something isn’t right. Does that work for both of you?” 

Anders stared at Fenris, unable to help but notice the way Fenris held himself, the way he seemed almost too in control. He let the rope fall from his hands. “Would it be easier for now if I simply sat back and watched, at least at first?” he suggested gently. “That way it will feel less like you’re outnumbered by mages. Why don’t I just sit nearby where you can see me if you need to, and when you feel ready for me to join in you can tell me.” He smiled reassuringly. “I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed the first time you do this with us, love. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

“Alright.” Fenris gave him another kiss before he turned and smiled at Vic. “I’m all yours love, how do you want me?” As he spoke, Anders slipped off of the bed and brought a chair over to sit where he could watch the proceedings, curious to watch this new, changed dynamic between the two men.

It seemed somehow appropriate that this first time like this, it should be just Invictus and Fenris, he reflected; after all, they had been lovers long before they ever invited the blond apostate to join them. This should be a step they explored together. There would be time enough for Anders to slowly find a new balance between them both in such games, he figured. But perhaps right now they needed to find that balance between them - particularly after the change in power that had occurred the previous evening. Sometimes when things had been shaken up, throwing more people into the mix probably wasn’t a good idea.

He smiled at them both and settled back in the chair to watch.

Vic grinned as he curled his fingers and tugged on the rope collar just hard enough to make Fenris’ breath hitch. “I want you in so many ways...but first, what may I not do? I don’t want to trip any bad memories.”

“N...no blindfolding me, not this time anyway.” Fenris gasped before his eyes closed for a moment. “So...sorry, just trying not to lose myself too soon.” 

“I thought you wanted to give in to us?” Vic asked as he loosened his grip and nudged Fenris to his back and reached for the ropes. 

“I do, just...my reaction to your grip surprised me, I’ll be good for you Vic.” Fenris offered up his hands,and watched as Invictus tied his arms so they were stretched to the side, and his head propped up enough to be comfortable but also so Vic could tug on the rope collar as he wished.

Anders watched intently from his chair, not moving as his eyes took in the way Fenris silently tested the bonds about his wrists. The mage noted that Fenris had a little slack so his arms would not be in too much discomfort if the session went on for longer than expected, and the knots about his wrists looked as though they shouldn’t chafe or impede his circulation. Not that it mattered much - after all, he’d seen Fenris snap his bonds before; still, Anders preferred not to have to heal rope burns afterwards if he could help it. He was aware of Invictus giving him a brief nod as though silently asking if the rope work were safe; Anders slowly nodded, once. 

Invictus settled back on his haunches and looked over Fenris, his gaze fond and loving as he watched the elf watching him. He trailed his nails over his husband’s thigh, but stopped short of touching his cock. He smirked when he heard a disappointed noise from the warrior. “Now you didn’t think I’d just get you off that soon did you?”

“No...I was hoping.” Fenris said before he let his head hit the pillow. “Please… touch me Vic.”

“Not yet, I want to play a bit first.” Invictus had a devious grin on his face as he reached over to get Anders’ tunic. “Mind if I take one of these love?”

Anders slowly grinned and nodded. “Go right ahead,” he said, waving a hand. He glanced back to Fenris to see his reaction.

Fenris’ eyes had widened as he watched Vic approach the bed. He didn’t do anything until he felt the feather on the sole of his foot. He bit his lip to stifle a giggle. 

“Oh this is interesting…” Vic said before he trailed it over the elf’s foot again and got a restrained snort. 

“No...no, c’mon Vic.” Fenris breathed before he felt the feather move up his leg. 

“No what?” Invictus said before he followed the feather’s trail with his nails until he sat next by the elf’s hips and he held the feather up for Fenris to see.

“Please don’t… ser.” Fenris said as he watched Vic then glanced at the feather. “At least not on the soles of my feet, I don’t want to jerk and kick you.” 

“That’s fair.” Vic murmured. “So much I could do but I want you to enjoy this more than me showing where you’re ticklish. I’m going to use one of those toys on you, but you can’t come until one of us tells you to.”   
Fenris nodded as he watched Invictus deliberate over his choices, then bit his lip as Vic turned to Anders for his thoughts.

“Which one should I use love?” Vic asked as he held up a thick, glass dildo they’d had ordered from Val Royeaux. 

Anders held up one finger. “One moment," he said quietly as he leaned forward, the earlier amusement over the feather gone and a serious expression on his face. “Fenris, you called Invictus ‘ser’. I need to know: are you fully comfortable with that? Are you going to be OK with it?”

“Yes...Anders, I’m ok.” Fenris said as he stretched up to try and kiss Anders to reassure him but couldn’t quite reach. “If I slip...and say _domne_ check in with me again though.” 

Anders rose from the chair and leaned forward to gently kiss Fenris. “I just want to be certain you’re alright, love,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to let yourself be pushed beyond your comfort just because you’re no longer with it enough to warn us you’re pushing a limit, alright?”

“Alright… I’m ok, I’m getting to that … headspace, a little slower than I expected. Just watch out for me.” Fenris gave him a warm smile, then laid back.

Vic arched an eyebrow at Anders but didn’t argue, he did wait for an answer however. Anders’ expression was still a little troubled. He sat back and glanced to Invictus. “Careful with your tone of voice, love,” he said quietly. “Take it slow and easy.”

Invictus nodded and glanced at Fenris then back to Anders. “Maybe… this is where you can teach me? I don’t want to mess this up.” 

Anders bit his lip. This had been exactly what he _didn’t_ want to happen; he didn’t want to be the one topping them both - even if merely verbally from a chair and not lifting a finger himself. As he stared at Invictus, he suddenly remembered that almost every occasion in which the other mage had topped him, Fenris had been there, commanding him what to do.

He swallowed, his mouth dry once more, and fervently wished Zevran hadn’t been buried under a pile of reports. He was sure the Antivan would have calmly dealt with this without breaking a sweat or second-guessing himself.

And yet, as the healer, wasn’t he duty-bound to ensure Fenris didn’t get hurt? Didn’t that make it his responsibility to guide Invictus? Regardless of how he personally felt?

He glanced back at Fenris, and then slowly nodded. “Very well,” he said quietly. “But on one condition - I don’t want either of you calling me ‘ser’, or ‘domne’, or anything like that. Most of all not ‘ser’ though. Understood?”

“Alright...if that’s what it takes.” Fenris said as he closed his eyes and tried to remain calm. 

Vic glanced at Fenris, then to Anders and back to Fenris again. “You sound annoyed love.” 

“I’m… I didn’t think it would be this...just, one of you make a decision please.” Fenris replied quietly.

“I believe I just did,” said Anders as he settled back in his chair, a note of steel creeping into his voice. He steepled his fingers and stared at the elf, his gaze intent. He glanced to Invictus and arched an eyebrow, and suddenly the former Champion felt briefly like a naughty apprentice whose senior enchanter had caught him out.

“Yes...S...Anders.” Fenris caught himself as he looked to Anders then to Invictus. “What would you have of me?” 

“Invictus, before you use one of those toys, you’ll have to arouse him more,” said Anders calmly. “I’m sure you can think of a suitable method. But don’t let him come.” A small smile played about his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “Or I shall be... _displeased_.”

“Ok,” Vic said as he looked to Fenris for a moment before he got the oil out and coated his fingers. He watched the elf’s face for any hint he was uncomfortable as he opened him up. Vic leaned down to trail his tongue down the length of Fenris’ cock slowly as he pumped his fingers slowly. 

Anders watched, feeling a stirring in his groin. He merely arched an eyebrow, giving no other sign of being affected as he watched the other two men. He could see the effect Invictus’ ministrations were having on the elf quite clearly however, and the hitch in Fenris’ breathing was clearly audible.

Fenris’ head dropped back to the pillow as he moaned and jerked against the ropes. “More...please...Vic.” he whispered.

Vic complied, but only adding another finger and by taking Fenris’ cock in his mouth rather than just teasing him with licking from base to tip.

Anders felt his cock give a definite twitch of interest at that moan and he drew a slightly deeper breath, the sound drowned out by another moan from the elf. Maker, did _he_ sound that wanton and needy when it was him in Fenris’ position? Foolish question; undoubtedly he did. The thought that indirectly Anders was responsible for making such sounds was certainly doing something to his own libido however. He shifted slightly in his chair to try and hide the way his pants had started to grow a little too tight.

“He wants more, hmm?” he drawled quietly, and smiled. “Very well... but go slower.”

Fenris whimpered as he heard Anders’ order.

Vic grinned as he slowed the thrusts with his fingers and pulled back from sucking Fenris’ cock until the elf lifted his head to beg.

“Please… don’t, please, more… Vic,” he panted.

“You can have more, and slower - or a little less, but a little faster,” said Anders; he was privately rather impressed he managed to say that without his voice wavering. The sight of Fenris begging was doing interesting things to him that he really hadn’t anticipated. “Which is it to be, Fenris?”

“Slow...slower and more please.” he was staring at Vic, eyes half open as he pondered begging for him to just fuck him already. 

“Can you take four fingers?” Vic asked as he slowed his hand even more.

“Take… whatever you give me. Please Vic, I’ll beg, I’ll be good, please!” Fenris whined as he jerked against the ropes again. At that note in Fenris’ voice, Anders found he had unthinkingly begun to slide his hand into the waistband of his pants; he gritted his teeth for a moment as he took a long, slow breath.

“You heard him, Invictus,” he drawled softly. “Give the man what he wants.”

Vic oiled his fingers and slowly worked four fingers into Fenris, stopping only to savor the way the elf’s eyes widened as he crooked his fingers inside then twisted just a bit. 

“Maker… Maker… Vic!” Fenris called out as he clenched his fists and fought the orgasm he felt building. “I’m… good, I’ll be good, please …” he tapered off when Invictus started to move his fingers. 

“Anders, maybe you should use electricity on him? Or pick one of those toys?” Vic said as he watched each moment of Fenris coming undone. 

“Invictus,” said Anders in that tone of voice with a touch of steel. “Are you about to make him come?”

“No… no!” Vic stilled as he turned to face Anders like a naughty apprentice. 

Fenris growled when he felt Vic’s hand stop moving. “Vic?” 

Anders arched an eyebrow again. “Fenris, who exactly is in charge here? Hmm?”

“You, you are Anders.” Fenris said as he forced himself to remain still though he wanted to make Vic resume moving or something rather than keep him on edge. “Apologies...Grand Enchanter.” he managed to get out.

Anders’ only outward sign of surprise at the title was an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes; inwardly, he suddenly had to fight very hard against the urge to smirk or even maybe giggle. He tilted his head to one side as he regarded the two men for a long moment, holding them in suspense until he was certain he could speak without his voice shaking with laughter he didn’t dare let out.

“Invictus, would you like to fuck Fenris?” he enunciated slowly and clearly.

“Yes, very much so.” Vic replied before Anders had gotten the elf’s name out. Anders allowed himself a grin.

“Well then, I think you should do so. Don’t you?”

Vic grinned as he slowly pulled his hand free and took a moment to clean his hand before slicking his cock and wrapping Fenris’ legs around his waist. “Love you.” he whispered as he entered his husband.

Fenris smiled for a second before he moaned with each shallow thrust until Vic was flush against him. “Love you.” he managed before he gave in to how good Vic felt in him. 

Anders leaned back in his chair, unable to help it as he palmed his own erection and bit his lip to keep from a faint moan of his own. Maker, he would have to do something about this soon or he would end up embarrassing himself in his pants. He slowly tugged loose the lacings of his pants as he watched the two men.

Invictus thrust slowly, enjoying each reaction from Fenris as he pulled back and entered him just a bit faster every few strokes… “An..Anders...can, can… fuck.” Vic gasped as he slowed down, sure his husband would find an inventive way to punish him if he came without permission. 

Fenris was calling for Vic to do something, to make him come, he was promising filthy things in Tevene if one of them would let him come. He turned his head and stared at Anders for moment before he asked the mage to take him too. 

Anders had taken himself in hand and was watching the two men with eyes that were dark and slightly glazed. “Faster,” he ordered Invictus, his voice a rough rasp. As the mage’s thrusts obediently sped up, the movement of Anders’ hand kept pace, the blond mage’s breaths coming faster.

“Anders! please… join us, please.” Fenris begged roughly as he tried to keep from coming until he was given leave to do so. “Take me… Maker, I need you… I need you too.”

Anders was close; far too close. At the sound of Fenris’ desperate pleading, he gritted his teeth and groaned even as his hand slowed then stilled. He let his head drop back as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, forcing his impending climax back by sheer force of will, his body shuddering as it craved release. 

He finally lifted his head and managed to get to his feet. “Invictus. Slow a moment,” he said, his voice terse as he held himself in firm control. As the other mage obeyed with an effort, Anders focused on Fenris. “Fenris. Do you want me in you? Or Vic?” He began to slowly strip off his pants as he waited for Fenris’ response.

“Both! Both… I don’t care… please.” Fenris pleaded as he opened his eyes and stared up at Anders, eyes wide and nearly blown. 

“Love?” Vic asked quietly.

“Gag me, I don’t care… just please, oh Maker please… I’m so close… both of you, one of you, just.” Fenris forced himself to relax and stop yanking the bonds before he either cracked the headboard, snapped the rope or wrenched his shoulder. 

Anders rested a hand upon Invictus’ shoulder. “Pull out,” he said quietly. 

Vic did as he was requested but he was confused, “Anders?” 

“Move back and wait until I’m in him,” Anders said, his voice low. “Once I’m in, enter me - use more oil though. Don’t move until I give the word, understood?”

“Yeah… I see now.” Vic said as he got the oil again and held it out for Anders. 

Fenris opened his eyes slightly and looked up to see Anders, not Vic. He’d heard them talking but he wasn’t going to speak unless they left him wanting for long.

Anders waved the oil away, calling up a handful of slick instead and smoothing it over his hard erection as he took up position between Fenris’ thighs. He lifted the elf’s legs and rested Fenris’ ankles upon his shoulders as he slid slowly into him until his whole length was buried inside the warrior, then he held still and waited for Invictus. He closed his eyes as he felt the head of the other mage’s cock press against his own entrance and deliberately relaxed himself, nodding to Invictus to continue. He breathed out slowly as he felt himself breached and filled, tight. 

After a moment to acclimatise himself to being filled so completely, he nodded again. “Move,” he managed tersely as he curled a hand about Fenris’ cock.

“As my husband wishes, it will be done.” Vic rumbled in his ear before he started to fuck Anders, not hard as he’d been going but at a good pace. “You feel so good.” he moaned in Anders ear.

Fenris couldn’t speak he was pinned by both of them, full and bent in half as he felt Anders stroke him in cadence with Invictus’ movements. He was glad that he was bound or he’d have been yanking at anything he could get his hands on. 

Anders’ eyes held a gaze of distant abstraction as he concentrated, timing his own thrusts to counterpoint with those of Invictus and his own hand as it began to pump Fenris’ cock. “Faster,” he said tersely; and as he spoke, he let a small spark of electricity fly on the upstroke of his hand as his thumb swept across the weeping head of the elf’s member.

Fenris’ eyes rolled back and he begged, pleaded to be allowed to come as they took him. He’d slipped into Antivan with the next few strokes of Anders hand on him.

“I’m gonna come whether you allow or not at this rate.” Vic snarled, he was huffing with each thrust and so close he was surprised he hadn’t come already. “Anders… you’re.. gonna have to punish me at this rate.”

“Vic... lightning... on me,” Anders gasped, his body sheened with sweat as he fought to concentrate on what they were all doing yet still allow himself to come closer to climax. “On... on my mark. Then... then you can both come,” he managed. As he spoke, he closed his eyes and opened himself up to the magic. “Now,” he said.

As Invictus obliged, pressing one hand to the small of Anders’ back and letting a shock of electricity pass into the blond mage’s body, Anders let it roll through him, allowing the merest spark of it to flow on through his hand into Fenris even as he finally allowed himself to climax, his own cry drowned out by theirs as both the elf and Invictus finally came.

Fenris was shaking as he felt both of them pull away from him, he whimpered as he felt Anders pull out and he closed his eyes, surprised to feel tears welling up and sliding down his face.

Invictus helped Anders stretch out before he moved to untie their elven spouse. “Fen… Fen, talk to me if you can.”

Fenris curled up on his side and felt himself shaking even more as he tried to get himself together. Anders shook his head at Invictus as he moved himself behind Fenris then gathered the elf up in his arms and tugged a blanket around him.

“Good, very good, Fenris,” he said soothingly. “You did very well. You were so good, so beautiful love, I’m really proud of you.” He glanced up at Invictus. “Love, could you go get warm water and washcloths please? And a glass of water,” he asked him in a low voice before he turned back to the elf. Though exhausted, he knew he couldn’t neglect Fenris’ care now. He gently stroked sweat-dampened hair back out of Fenris’ eyes as he murmured soothingly to him. “It’s OK, don’t try to talk yet. Vic will help us clean up in a minute; you just rest now. You did so well.” He pressed a soft kiss to Fenris’ cheek.

Vic hurried to do as he was asked, and handed Anders the glass while he took care of cleaning them up, Fenris first, then Anders. He came back with another basinful of clean water to get himself cleaned up before he slid into bed on the other side of Fenris and wrapped an arm around the elf. He looked to Anders with a grateful, tired smile. 

“Thank you love.” He said before he brushed Fenris’ hair aside to undo the rope collar.

Fenris shook his head no, and twined his fingers with Invictus’ as he let them hold him. He reached out to Anders as well, and relaxed between them, feeling safe and warm as his shaking finally stopped.

“Leave the collar until he can ask for it to be taken off himself,” said Anders softly as he held the glass to Fenris’ lips so the elf could drink. He pressed another kiss to the damp white hair. “Thank you for trusting us, love,” he added. “I hope it was good for you. I tried my best to give you what you wanted.”

Fenris stared into Anders eyes for a while and finally smiled at him. “Better than good, thank you.” he said softly. “Was I good for you? Both of you?” he asked drowsily as he pulled Vic’s arm around him even more and snuggled closer to Anders.

“Oh yes, love,” Anders answered with a tired smile. “You were wonderful.” He was exhausted and beginning to be very thankful indeed that he had no pressing duties today.

“You were so good Fenris, thank you for the trust love.” Vic pressed a couple more kisses to the elf’s back and shoulders before he rested his head on his free hand. “Both of you rest, I’ll keep you company.” 

Fenris was already asleep by the time Vic had spoken, his face peaceful in slumber. Anders carefully lay back against the pillows with Fenris in his arms, then glanced up at Invictus.

“Was it good for you too, love? Was... was I good?” He suddenly looked almost as uncertain and worried as he had when Fenris had first told them what he wanted.

“Better than good, you kept me from utterly cocking it up. I might… like that tone of voice you used on me, just a bit.” Vic admitted shyly. Anders groaned, though he gave Invictus a tentative grin.

“I did wonder about that,” the blond apostate admitted. “Maker, what have I set myself up for now, I wonder?” He lay back against the pillows, a thoughtful look replacing the grin. “I haven’t had to do that in a very long time. Years. Once Justice came along, any thoughts of casual sex pretty much went out the window, and then when you two invited me in - well, Justice was gone, but Fenris made it plain my place was submitting to him, never the other way around. I’m rather out of practice - and I must admit I’d never tried topping two men at once.” He suddenly grinned. “Never got quite that lucky.”

“Well now you are, I don’t know how often he’ll let us do that but … I’m so proud of Fenris, and happy for him.” Vic said softly. 

Anders’ eyes softened. “I am so glad he no longer is afraid of mages, even on a subconscious level. It feels like... like he’s finally killed Danarius for good. He’s finally, _truly_ free.” There was a faintly wistful note to his voice.

Vic smiled before he leaned over to kiss Fenris on the cheek. “You alright? Truly?” he asked as he laid back and tried to get comfortable with how Fenris held his arm close to him.

“I think so,” replied Anders slowly. “Or not feeling quite so overwhelmed any more at least, which is good. You’ve both turned my outlook on things a bit on its head and I’m still trying to get my thoughts around that, but that’s not necessarily bad either. And maybe I needed to, I don’t know... start learning to be, well... less submissive?” He glanced at Invictus, trying to work out if the other mage was grasping what he was trying, with less than his customary eloquence, to say.

“You mean in bed with us? I thought you liked being in charge with Zevran? At least that was how it seemed last time we all played together? Unless I am totally missing your point love.” Vic replied.

“With Zevran we usually take it in turns,” Anders confessed. “No, I don’t mean in bed - or at least, not just in bed. Just... I don’t know, since Kirkwall, it feels like something just went out of me. Losing Justice, and then learning that what I’d _thought_ was Justice... well... _wasn’t_... it was like losing some of my life. The spark, the fire or whatever you want to call it. The _me_. There was none of the drive I’d had before, and it just felt like I’ve been merely reacting to what everyone else wanted of me, and it was easier to just give it to them. Meneris wanted me to be a healer, then to be a Grey Warden, then a member of the Inquisition; then Maevaris wanted me for Tevinter. Dorian came to drag me back and at no point did it ever really feel like what I wanted really came into things. Even now, it’s still happening - I’m the Grand bloody Enchanter and knickerweasels, Vic, I never asked for that - nor did I particularly want it, but it’s the only way I can make the Colleges work. So I’ll do it. But Andraste’s ass, I need to start standing up for what _I_ want instead of other people sometimes for a change or I’m going to smother under everyone else’s expectations of me.”

He was afraid suddenly to look at Invictus, uncertain how the other mage would react to his sudden little outburst.

Vic had frowned a bit but not for the reason Anders might have thought. “Love, if you didn’t want to be Grand Enchanter… why didn’t you tell them no? Someone else could have done it - Dorian for instance. I am worried for you, and if this isn’t what you want, then speak to Meneris. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve no say. Did I do that today? I’m sorry if I did, please… don’t ever let me or anyone make you feel like you’ve no choice.” 

“If I’d said no, what would have happened?” said Anders tiredly. “Dorian couldn’t have taken the position - he’s already been made the Tevinter ambassador. Didn’t he tell you? Some political string-pulling of his father’s, apparently. It was already arranged, signed, sealed, everything - even before Meneris came up with the idea. The letter and papers all arrived just after he made the announcement. If I’d said no, that risked someone else being appointed who might not be so in favour of doing away with the Circles, and the Colleges would have died before they’d even begun. For the sake of children like Ellowynne - for every mage dragged away from their parents as I was - Maker, Vic, how could I say no? Even though the very idea of being chained to a desk and politics and standing up in front of the Magisterium and all the rest of it -” He broke off before his voice could break. He swallowed hard, then carried on, his voice lower. “I have no choice. I never really did. I’ll see it through.” He closed his eyes.

Fenris had opened his eyes at their conversation, not fully awake but the way Anders sounded had made him wonder what was going on. “Anders?” he mumbled.

“Go back to sleep Fenris, we’re just talking… didn’t want to wake you love.” Vic replied. 

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, love,” said Anders tiredly. “I’m sorry, I should have kept my voice down.”

“S’ok...love you” Fenris said as he turned over to his stomach and fell asleep again. 

“Well, at least you got your arm back,” Anders quipped softly as Invictus was finally released by Fenris.

“Um, hmm.” Vic said with a stare at Anders. “I can take a hint, for now.” he stretched out and draped an arm over Fenris’ waist while he waited for the the blond mage to join him.

Anders rolled onto his side, facing towards Invictus, the sleeping elf sprawled between them, and after a moment his amber eyes slowly lifted to meet the other mage’s stare. He smiled wistfully.

“At least Fenris is completely free at last,” he said quietly. He closed his eyes as he murmured softly, almost to himself, “One of us should be.”

Invictus waited for Anders to say something further, but the mage remained silent.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke woke up to find Anders had woke up first and left already, but Fenris was awake and watching him. “Hey love, feeling better?”

“Yeah, a little sore but I’m good. Are you ...ok with that Vic?” Fenris asked as he turned to his side and reached out to pull his husband to him.

Invictus leaned in and gave Fenris a kiss before he replied, hoping the elf realized how happy he was. “With you trusting us like that? Yes, it’s more than ok. I’m happy for you, I know I was an ass last night but I love you so much, I’m proud that you finally snapped that last barrier. If you never let us do that again, I’m still happy.” 

“It will happen again, I can’t predict when or where but I am not averse to letting you and Anders have your way with me again.” Fenris snuggled against Vic with a content sigh. “It was ...emotional for me. To be so open, wanton and begging for you both.”

“I could tell, but the look on your face my heart, I won’t ever forget it.” Vic wrapped his arm around Fenris as best he could and pressed a kiss against the elf’s hair. “Are you going to let your hair keep growing? It’s so long now love.”

“Hmm, hadn’t really thought about it, I don’t care about such things all that much. Do you like it long?” Fenris asked sleepily as he reached up to caress Invictus’ face as they spoke.

“I hadn’t thought of it much either. I was just thinking of how much you hated letting your hair even touch your shoulders when we first got together but you didn’t want anyone near you with shears either. Maker, we’ve changed and grown so much over the years.” Vic brushed some of the hair out of Fenris’ eyes so he could see his face.

“Mostly for the good, I hope.” Fenris rolled to his back and pulled Vic on top of him. “Are you happy Vic? I mean truly.” 

“Of course I am Fenris, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. What brought this on?” Vic asked as he rested over the elf so he was face to face rather than lying on his chest.

Fenris stared up at the ceiling for a moment to collect his thoughts, then back to his husband, which he still couldn’t believe some days; that anyone would want him like that let alone, Anders, _and_ Zevran. He hoped Vic would understand where it was coming from and not think he was spiraling again.

“I know you, Zevran and Anders hate it when I speak poorly of myself. How I don’t deserve you or the love you give me. It’s something I still struggle with.” He put his finger over Vic’s lips when the mage looked ready to argue. “Please...let me say this.”

“Sorry love, I just get ...I’ll hush.” Vic said before he kissed the lyrium lined fingers across his mouth and fell quiet.

“As I was saying, I struggle with it. I still don’t know what any of you see in me. But I know there has to be _some reason_ you stay with me. So, sometimes when I’m in my room, or on my own or flying around as a dragon, I just think on these things. That fear I am not enough is a small burden, a darkness in me that’s going away, being chipped away slowly. I know it’s been a decade of us being together, but I’ve done you wrong Vic. I worry sometimes that I’ll do something that will push you, or now Anders or Zevran, away for good.”

Fenris paused to collect himself, and not upset himself or Vic as he went on. He brushed his thumbs over Vic’s jaw as he continued. “I thought I’d done that when I carried on with Belann, the way you and Zevran looked at me broke my heart. I ...felt like you both hated me in that moment and it ...I considered just leaving. I was trying to, but Bull kept me here.

I spent some time thinking, a lot of it and when you were still angry the next day, I wanted to rip my own heart out. Anders kindness undid me, I don’t know if he ever spoke of it with you but I fell to pieces, I just shattered. I was so sure I’d ruined everything like I’d feared I was bound to do, that I was inconsolable. It was that moment where I realized I had to be better, I had to really grow up, and deal with a lot of my pain, my lack of knowledge when it came to being with you all. I didn’t have a childhood Vic, even my teenage years were nothing I’d wish on my worst enemy, it’s a wonder anyone ever bothers with me. I guess all that was to say, I’m sorry for all I’ve done to you, Zevran and Anders; and I’m grateful that we’ve come this far. ” 

He wiped at his eyes, and laughed bitterly when he felt Vic caressing his face gently. “Even when I confess my sins, you’re gentle with me. What did I do to deserve such kindness from you Vic?” 

“Fenris, I was very angry, and hurt but I didn’t hate you. If I had turned on you, I wouldn’t be here. I might get upset, and have been an utter asshole, Void we’ve been so bad for each other at times but we made it. I can’t speak for Zevran, but I wasn’t leaving you even for your indiscretion. I’d have been a hypocrite if I had. I love you Fenris.” Vic kissed him again, slow, easy until they both needed to take a breath. 

Fenris wrapped his arms around Vic and held him close as he could, happy for the moment. “I lost what I was trying to say, I guess...I guess it will come back if need be. I just want to enjoy this for a while longer. We don’t get much time for just the two of us lately.” 

“True, though I am getting hungry, pretty sure we slept through lunch.” Vic said quietly as he rolled to his side and tugged Fenris to his chest. “Love you so much, and I’m glad you’re still with me. How about I get a tray sent up and we can just spend the rest of the day together?”

“That’s good, I’ll get cleaned up while you get food sent up. I’ll change the sheets too.” Fenris leaned in for one more kiss before he reluctantly got up and headed for a bath. 

Vic gave him a playful swat on the ass as followed behind him to at least snag pants before he scandalized the staff. He felt lighter than he had in weeks, even with the unexpected start to the day.

After a quiet dinner, Fenris pulled Vic back to bed for another round, except he took it slow, deliberately teasing Invictus with nips and kisses as he took his husband once on his back, another with Vic on his side, one leg over Fenris’ shoulder as he made his mage call out, whimper and beg to come, then not as he was driven to the edge, and pulled back twice before he couldn’t hold back and came with more than a whispered ‘yes’ in his ear. 

Invictus turned to his stomach while Fenris got him cleaned off, and happily wrapped himself around the elf so they could rest for a bit longer before finding Anders and Zevran. “Love you so much Fen.” 

“Love you too Vic.” Fenris replied quietly as he let his eyes close and was soon drifting in a doze once more.

**

Arden headed up the stairs towards the library. He’d been restless since the morning of the wedding, after his arrival; he knew hardly anyone at the ceremony apart from Anders, Fenris and - to a lesser extent - Invictus; and even then, it seemed they knew far more of him than he did of them. The red-haired mage with that disconcerting scar across his forehead and through one eye he didn’t know at all, even though he seemed to know Arden rather well - and he hadn’t reacted at all well to the blond Champion’s failure to remember him.

There was Varric of course - but the dwarf was acting extremely cagey. He’d carefully questioned Arden as to just what he’d recalled in that sudden flash of memory as Anders had worked healing upon him - and then when Arden had confessed it was only the events of that inadvertent visit to Invictus’ Thedas - _this_ Thedas, in fact - then the dwarf had clammed up completely.

It was intensely frustrating to be amongst people who knew more of his missing past than he did and yet refused to tell him more. Invictus had told him of further crossings between the worlds, but it had not awakened any further memories, and Arden couldn’t shake the feeling that something colossal had happened in his own Kirkwall that he _should_ have remembered - yet there it was. He remembered Anders in the clinic, and nothing after.

He’d looked around for Isabela and Nakusa that morning but both had disappeared somewhere together; and Anders was otherwise occupied, according to the Chantry sister in the infirmary - the same one who had dragged him up to the Inquisitor’s quarters, in fact, mistaking him for the Grand Enchanter. At a loose end, he’d asked for directions to the library.

He stared around the shelves and stacks of books; here at least he should find something to occupy himself with for an hour or two until Anders was hopefully free in the infirmary.

He was just idly browsing one shelf that contained a handful of fictional novels when a familiar name caught his eye, and his fingers tugged the small, well-worn copy of “Tale of the Champion” from the shelf. The book was slightly dog-eared and had obviously passed through many hands. Arden frowned a little as he eyed the lurid illustration of the figure on the front that bore only the very vaguest passing resemblance to Invictus, then glanced around for somewhere to sit. Maybe if he read about what had happened in Invictus’ Kirkwall, it might bring back some memories of what had happened in his own? Invictus had been very cagey about what had occurred to drive him, Anders and Fenris out of Kirkwall, and Arden was curious as to why. No doubt it would be as sensationalist trash as most of Varric’s other popular work but there was always at least a few grains of truth scattered amongst the purple prose - maybe he’d be able to find them, or at least enough to prompt his own memories.

He found a chair in a corner, surrounded by piles of books on magical theory evidently left there by some other person before him; he took a seat and opened the small worn book, flicking to the first chapter and starting to read.

As he’d thought, though the characters depicted were rather romanticised and much of the story quite exaggerated, enough of the true story remained that Arden realised his own early days in Kirkwall and those of Invictus were very familiar. The Champion’s reaction to the tragic blond apostate in their first meeting was rather more antagonistic than Arden remembered, but the Healer’s responses were almost word-for-word as Arden remembered Anders that first time. Evidently Varric had chosen to play up the whole “predestined love” angle even though Arden knew at that point Invictus had felt no attraction to Anders whatsoever - but then Varric was writing for his audience, not for some later amnesiac Hawke from another world looking for reminders of his own past.

He flicked through the chapters, laughing at some of the more fanciful retellings of events he remembered himself - until he reached the confrontation with the Arishok. He remembered his own duel and was curious how Invictus had handled it, and he settled more comfortably into his seat and turned the page... 

... And felt his blood run cold.

“No, wait, that’s... no, that’s not how it happened,” he frowned. “No, there was a fight, Isabela wasn’t....”

He glanced away from the page, frowning. He racked his brains, cursing his missing memories. He was certain he had mentioned the duel to Invictus at least once on his accidental trip to this Thedas, if not before then - when Invictus had accidentally shown up in his own Kirkwall. 

Slowly it came to him that he didn’t recall Invictus ever mentioning his own duel with the Arishok however. As he stared down at the description of how the thief of the Qunari relic was captured by the Champion and handed over to the Arishok, thus allowing the massive horned warriors to depart in peace back to their homeland and spare Kirkwall from blood and fire, Arden felt a deep, bitter disappointment welling up from within him. He resolved to speak with Isabela as soon as he could find her.

He carried on reading, a growing discontent causing him to leaf forwards through the book with an increasingly-critical eye. More and more he found he didn’t recognise the events described, though some felt almost familiar. He read of the growing insanity of the Knight-Commander - _that_ , now, felt far too familiar - the altercations with the First Enchanter, the discontent, the feeling of impending disaster - yes, this was no mere exaggeration. Varric had not had to embellish the account of those dark days as the end of the story approached - he almost felt he could remember the fateful climax the story was building towards.

And then he turned the page and the Chantry had been destroyed by the tragic blond apostate, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. There was a tight band around his chest, a fierce hot pain, and he could no longer see the words upon the page for how they danced in the heat-shimmer of a half-remembered explosion and fiery conflagration.

_”I removed the chance of compromise because there can be no compromise.”_

“... Arden? I say, are you alright? Maker, you’ve gone white! Arden? Arden Hawke, can you hear me?”

It took a few moments for the words to make sense, for the worried tone to penetrate the fog of shock; as Arden blinked slowly, he realised a pair of grey eyes were regarding him apprehensively.

Grey eyes - not amber flecked with fierce blue spirit fire. It was that Tevinter mage - the Inquisitor’s husband. _Dorian_ , a distant part of his mind supplied helpfully. The Altus was crouched before him, staring at him with concern.

“I’m... I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Arden managed slowly.

“You look simply dreadful. What’s wrong? Should I fetch Anders?” asked Dorian, his brow creasing in a frown.

“No!” said Arden firmly. _No._ He couldn’t face Anders - not this Anders, not after reading of what he’d done - not after suddenly remembering what his own Anders had done. It still felt so strange, unreal, like a nightmare he were still half-trapped within; yet somehow, he knew it was true - knew it on some deep level inside. Varric had exaggerated many things, but this - no, Varric had not invented this.

Now he knew why the prince of Starkhaven had held such hatred for him - no, not for _him_ , but for the man he resembled.

He became aware that Dorian was speaking to him again, asking what was wrong, how could he help.

Wordlessly, Arden lifted the book up so the Altus could read the title.

“‘The Tale of the Champion’?” read Dorian slowly, then lifted his eyes to meet Arden’s gaze.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” said Arden quietly. “I... I think some of it is coming back to me. Anders really did blow up the Chantry. That’s why Sebastian....”

“ _Venhedis_ ,” muttered Dorian, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Yes, it is, but he was under blood magic.”

“Not in my Kirkwall,” said Arden sadly. “I don’t remember everything yet, but... but I do remember there was no blood magic involved. Just drakestone, sela petrae and a pack of lies he fed me so I’d help him. And Maker save me, I did.” He let the book fall from his hands and covered his face. “Maker forgive me, I helped him do it.”

Dorian stared at the other man and felt at a loss. What on earth was he going to do with him? Arden had crumpled in upon himself, sobbing brokenly. Dorian rose to his feet and glanced around as he pondered what to do. Arden had said he didn’t want to see Anders - and from the sounds of things, that would probably be for the best, at least until the blond Hawke had gotten over his initial shock of recalling _that_ particular part of his memories. Hal, he knew, was having his own problems over Arden and likely wouldn’t handle having the blond mage dropped on him particularly well either.

He did the only thing he could think of. He bent over Arden and got a hand beneath his elbow to help the distraught man to his feet. “Come with me,” he said firmly. “I think you need a good drink and I have just the vintage to help. I am assured I am a reasonable listener and I am a fairly patient one, if that would help?”

Arden managed to nod his head. “Please,” he whispered hoarsely.

“One bottle of good Nevarran red and a sympathetic ear, coming right up,” replied Dorian as he steered the unsteady Arden in the direction of his own room. Maybe after a bottle or two of wine the worst of the shock would be cushioned enough for this mess to begin to be sorted out, or maybe it wouldn’t - but it had to be better than the poor man sobbing his heart out over Varric’s tatty book in Dorian’s favourite chair.

***

Fenris entered the Great Hall to find Nakusa and Isabela having a late lunch. Even the pirate’s presence couldn’t dampen his mood. “Hello brother, you’re just who I was looking for, have some time to talk?” 

“Hello Fenris,” said Isabela, her voice cool. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Arden around anywhere? We were hoping to catch him before we leave.”

Fenris glared at her but the not so subtle look from his sibling kept him from snapping. “No.”

“That’s... worrying,” said Isabela as she exchanged glances with Nakusa, who frowned.

“Varric hadn’t seen him either - not since breakfast,” replied the red-haired elf. “I already tried the infirmary.”

Isabela pushed herself up out of her chair. “I’m going to go find Zevran; if anyone will know it’ll be him,” she said. She leaned over and kissed Nakusa. “You have fun playing happy families, sweet thing; I’ll be back later.”

Nakusa slung an arm around her waist and tugged her down for a deeper kiss, grinning up at her as he finally let her go. “Give my regards to Zevran.”

“I shall,” she grinned back; she cast another arch glance at Fenris then strode away, her hips swinging.

Fenris glared at her as she walked off, not realizing the low growl he’d started until Nakusa called his name. His brother was staring at him, his eyebrows lowered into a frown.

“Brother, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t growl at the woman I share a bed with,” Nakusa said quietly. “I’m not sure just what your issue is with her, but either come out and say something or else drop it. Isabela and I share a berth and it’s not likely to end any time soon.”

Fenris took a breath before he turned to his brother. “I will endeavor to be civil. She knows what problem I have with her, yet she enjoys rubbing me the wrong way. She could have not asked me anything. But that’s not what I came here for, I wanted to see you before you left. Apologies if I upset you with how I acted.”

“Brother, it was entirely reasonable for her to ask. We haven’t seen any sign of Arden and we’re concerned for him,” pointed out Nakusa. “After all, aside from Isabela and myself, only you, Invictus, Anders and Hal know who he really is or anything of his past, apart from Varric. Hal is avoiding him, and we haven’t seen any sign of Anders or Varric. So we thought maybe he’d gone to talk to you and Vic. But if _you_ haven’t seen him....” Nakusa sighed. “We have to leave tomorrow at the latest; we’ve got a cargo being loaded in Amaranthine and a buyer waiting for it up in Antiva City, so we really wanted a chance to speak to Arden before we left.” He shrugged and reached for his wine, then smiled at Fenris. “Still, at least you and I have a while longer to catch up.”

“I wanted to take you flying, if you wanted to that is. There’s a valley nearby that’s concealed enough for me to take off and land without terrifying anyone, or drawing those who try to find glory in hunting dragons. It’s become a thing to do after the fight with Corypheus.” Fenris fidgeted as he waited for his sibling’s answer. He knew he was being petty in regard to Isabela, but she still managed to get under his skin.

“Shame you can’t teach me this whole ‘turning into a dragon’ trick,” teased Nakusa with a grin. “Sounds like something that would come in useful. Then again, knowing my luck, I’d get only one wing.” He glanced at the lyrium that ran down one arm and shrugged. He downed the rest of his wine then rose. “Lead on, brother; Isabela will be busy trying to find out where Arden’s gone but there’s no sense the both of us running all over this fortress getting lost, so I am yours for a few hours at least.”

Fenris nodded and led them to the valley, his mind wandering as they went, enough that he stumbled and nearly wound up ass over teakettle on the hill he often took to when he wanted to be alone to think.

Nakusa lifted a hand to steady his brother with a touch to his shoulder, instinctively avoiding the swirls of lyrium. “Fenris? Are you alright?” he asked, frowning. “It’s not like you to be clumsy?”

“Sorry, just let my mind wander a bit too far. Ready?” Fenris replied.

Nakusa’s frown deepened as he stepped back and folded his arms. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “We’re alone out here, so whatever is troubling you, we can speak without fear of being overheard.”

Fenris shook his head no, and gave his sibling a smile. “I’d rather fly if you don’t mind, it’s what I brought you out here for after all.” 

Nakusa glanced away, his frown not leaving his face. “There is something on your mind that troubles you, and I had thought....” He exhaled sharply, then shook his head as he glanced back at his brother. “If you cannot share with your own brother... well.” His voice was a low growl, and staring at his brother and hearing his voice was suddenly disquieting to Fenris as the other elf shifted from one foot to the other in restlessness - almost exactly as Fenris himself was doing. It was rather eerie to see his own mannerisms in another man and hear a voice so similar to his own.

Unaware of Fenris’ thoughts, Nakusa shrugged. “Well, if you will not share, I can’t force you,” the red-head replied. He glanced out across the valley for a moment, then turned back towards Fenris.

Fenris sat down and patted the ground next to him, unsure about sharing his thoughts but something about Nakusa’s disapproving look bothered him enough to speak. “It’s my reaction to Isabela, even with years between us she still gets under my skin. I know it’s petty, but it’s like I can’t help it. Her habit of being flippant about things, and the way she spoke to me when you arrived has been nagging me. I just feel like she doesn’t respect or like me. Vic is still skittish around her, and she just...gets under my skin. I hate it.” Fenris had started to pull grass up as he spoke, the patch in front of him nearly bald from his nervous plucking.

Nakusa snorted. “We helped rescue her from the Qunari, but she has told me that when Invictus handed her over to them, you didn’t say a word - just watched Invictus betray her,” replied Nakusa as he dropped down to the grass and folded his legs. “Can you blame her if she has no respect for you now? You didn’t stand up for her against Invictus or speak in her defence, and had Zevran not wrestled a promise from Invictus to rescue her that you would have quite happily left her to rot. Can you honestly tell me that if your positions were reversed that you would feel any differently?” He sighed and shook his head. “You have very little justification for feeling aggrieved with her, my brother. As for Invictus - well, he was the one who betrayed her in the first place. She feels no love for him, and if he feels nervous around him - well, he can consider it the consequence of his actions.”

Fenris’ fingers stilled upon the grass. Nakusa had changed during those long two years since last they had seen each other; he had very firmly shaken off the last vestiges of slavery it seemed, and the man who sat next to him now was a strong-willed, stubborn man with very firm opinions of his own that he was unafraid to state. He was at once both very familiar and yet not. Mythal’s gift had given him back his memories, and he remembered Nakusa as he had been, back when they were both children, Nakusa the elder by several years. He could see shades of that boy and how he had grown into the man he saw now; the man who had been hidden behind the facade of the broken and scarred slave that Fenris had once ordered Anders to let die.

Fenris suddenly frowned. Nakusa still bore the name he had chosen for himself. But Fenris remembered what his name had once been - the name that Danarius had taken from him. 

"You are correct brother, I ...I hope you do not think less of me for the wrong I have done your lover in the past." Fenris looked away, rightly shamed.

“It is in the past,” shrugged Nakusa. “We cannot change what has gone before; we can choose how to move forward, but not back.” He plucked a stem of grass, then glanced up at Fenris. “You called yourself Leto at the dinner. Are you then reclaiming your original name?”

"For Inquisition business, yes." Fenris replied as he propped his chin on his knees and stared out at the valley.

“Ah,” replied Nakusa and turned his gaze back to the valley also. “And you have taken Invictus’ name. As have Anders and Zevran, I understand?”

"Yes, does it bother you brother?" Fenris asked quietly. His good cheer was gone with the reminder of how he'd failed Isabela in the past along with how petty he'd acted regarding her presence.

“Bother me?” Nakusa pondered the question, then shook his head. “No. Though with Arden also being a Hawke... well.” He gave his brother a sidelong glance. “A flock of Hawkes?” He chuckled wryly.

"I didn't know if it would bother you thus why I asked. Zevran doesn't use his new surname if he can help it; Vic and Anders go by title when needed or by first name." Fenris continued to pick at the grass around him as he fell silent once more. He wanted to return to the Keep but didn't know how to suggest it without letting his sibling know he was no longer in a social mood.

“So, these changes Mythal made to you,” said Nakusa after a long moment in which neither man spoke. “Are they the reason for why you seem so different from when last we met, or is there more to it than that?” He glanced at Fenris. “It is not simply that you are taller, stronger... there is something different about you. Something inside. Or have two years changed us both so much?” He plucked another stem of grass and stared at it. “It feels as though we are strangers.” His tone was soft, wistful.

"Much has changed, I have lost my fear of mages, I've grown in some ways and others I'm clearly still a petty child." Fenris replied bitterly.

Nakusa glanced at him. “And will you talk about it? With me?” he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble. “Or will I leave here tomorrow still a stranger?”

"If you wish, we can speak. Though I don't know if you'll care for what I've become since we last saw each other. I didn't get much chance to know you before you left with her, there's no time now and I don't know if you wish to know. You speak as if I'm ...never mind, I think I want to go back to the Keep if we're to have such a conversation. I'd prefer the comfort, warmth and...familiarity of my room for such a serious talk between us," Fenris finished as he kept tugging at the grass until there was mostly dirt in his hands.

Nakusa’s gaze dropped to the dirt in Fenris’ hands for a moment, then he got to his feet. “Then we should go back,” he said.

Fenris rose and walked in step with his sibling, his heart heavy at the idea Nakusa felt he was a stranger after two years apart. He let them into his room, set out wine and whiskey for his brother. "Your choice."

Nakusa ignored the whiskey and reached for the wine, pouring himself a glass then glanced at Fenris in silent query.

Fenris poured wine as well, then settled back. "I'm not a good person, not as much as people give me credit for. I hated mages most of my life, with good reason. I'm not proud of things I did with Vic but I've grown up. Somewhat," he added ruefully. "In many ways I am still trying to figure myself out, and I regret a lot of things, Nakusa. I am not proud of who I was, and I feel like I will spend the rest of my days making up for the hurt I've caused." Fenris looked away, his eyes glimmered as he pondered the dark red liquid

“You evidently managed to overlook your dislike of mages enough to marry two of them,” Nakusa pointed out. “You seemed quite comfortable in their company when Anders freed me from Varania. I’d assumed your antipathy towards the Warden woman was due to her attitude towards Anders? As for making up for what you’ve done - you could start by not snarling at Isabela when she so much as glances in your direction,” he added before taking a sip of his wine.

"As long as I don't mistreat her, is that what you want from me? Letting myself love Anders was hard and painful and was something I struggled with for a long time; Don't throw it in my face." Fenris caught himself before he threw his glass at the fireplace as he used to in Kirkwall. "Is it an apology you want then?"

Nakusa blinked at him, then his piercing blue eyes narrowed as he stared at Fenris. “I was throwing nothing in your face... brother,” he said quietly. “Why are you intent on twisting this into a fight?”

"I'm not, why did you feel the need to throw in how comfortable I seemed with Anders? That didn't happen overnight, it felt like you were trying to goad me. What do you want from me regarding your lover? You've brought her up when I was not speaking of her." Fenris snapped.

“You acknowledged earlier that you had done her wrong,” said Nakusa slowly. “Just now you said you feel as though you will spend the rest of your life making up for the hurt you’ve caused. Yet I have seen no evidence of that.” He set his glass down, his voice rising slightly. “You have snapped and snarled at Isabela from the moment she and I arrived. Do you only feel bad about it when someone reminds you of what you’ve done, then?” He took a step towards Fenris. “As for Anders, the ease I saw between you and him - it didn’t feel like something that would happen overnight, yet you speak of having learned to not fear mages as though it’s only just happened.” His voice had risen further, an exasperated tone creeping in to the baritone rumble. “ _Venhedis_ , brother, I am not trying to fight with you but it feels as though you are determined to fight nonetheless!” He threw up his hands and made a sound of annoyed disgust as he turned on his heel and strode away from Fenris, putting more space between them.

"Please...let me start over." Fenris asked quietly.

Nakusa stared into the cold ashes of the fire in the grate for a moment as he drew a deep, slow breath then let it go. He turned back to face Fenris then nodded. “Please. I did not come here to fight with you, Fenris.”

"The revelation that I no longer fear mages is new. Whenever I argued with Vic, if he even raised his voice sometimes I'd still cower and flinch. I'm not trying to fight, I'm sorry." Fenris had bowed his head and was contritely staring at the floor.

“I feared only Danarius and then Hadriana,” replied Nakusa slowly. “I did not fear Varania; maybe because she was always so hesitant and fearful around _me_. Anders... something in me trusted him from the moment Varania brought him to me. Maybe because he was hurt and in pain but still reached out to try and help me. And after all, he gave me my freedom, even if at first I was terrified of the very idea of it.”

"Varania is dead to me, she betrayed me for power, I foolishly let her live. The only good that came of it was finding you."

“She’s still in Minrathous, last I heard,” shrugged Nakusa. “I can’t say as I particularly care about her myself. We may be related by blood, but though she brought Anders to try and heal me, still she kept me chained like any other slave. Danarius took my name from me; she could have given it back, but she didn’t. What am I to make of that?” He glanced to the wine bottle and reached to refill his glass. “What manner of sister would keep her own brother a slave and deny him even the knowledge of his true name?”

"I know it, if you'd have it again." Fenris offered.

Nakusa stared at him. “You... you know? But... but _how_... Danarius stole even more of your memories than he took from me!” he exclaimed. 

Fenris glanced at his brother then back to his glass. "Mythal granted me a far reaching boon. Your true name is Aeolus."

The red-haired elf stared at Fenris as though frozen to the spot; a moment later, the glass of wine in his hand fell from suddenly nerveless fingers to smash upon the floor, spilling dark red wine across the polished floor. “I...I have a name,” he breathed in a shocked whisper.

Fenris jumped at the noise but turned to his sibling instead of rushing to clean the mess. “Yes, we both do. I hope knowing helps.” 

Nakusa’s eyes were wide and a little unfocused as he glanced away from Fenris. “I... a little, it....” He put one hand to his forehead and closed his eyes with a pained wince. “It’s coming back. Flashes, memories. Things I had forgotten.” He swallowed hard, and fumbled blindly for a chair before dropping into it, almost falling, his eyes still closed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. Do you need Anders or Hal? A healing potion?” Fenris stepped over the spill and shattered glass to tilt his siblings head back and stare into his eyes as they fluttered open again, glazed. “With me still?”

Nakusa gasped. “What is there to heal?” he managed to get out. “This is... no sickness, no physical malady, this is....” He shuddered. “Too much, too much - everything at once, what... what have you done to me? What spell is this?”

“I’ve done nothing, I can cast no spell! I ...merely told you your true name.” Fenris backed away, worried for what he’d pushed his sibling to. Nakusa clutched at his head and doubled over with a low groan. 

“It’s like everything hitting at once - every thought, memory, feeling - all of it together, I can’t - Fenris, help me, what have you done to me?” the red-haired elf groaned through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t _do_ anything to you! Stop saying that.” Fenris said as he felt a shard of glass slice into his foot when he stepped back from Nakusa. “I will not scream, I will not scream...it hurts.”

Nakusa’s forehead was pressed against his knees now as he wrapped his arms around himself; his eyes were wide open but seeing nothing as the flood of memories continued - everything he’d ever forgotten, everything of who he was, everything he’d ever suffered at the hands of Danarius brought back in what seemed one long awareness of pain and suffering as he gritted his teeth and endured it silently, sweat breaking out upon his brow as he shuddered.

 

“I’m going to get Hal, or Anders...assuming I can walk that far.” Fenris gasped as he got to a chair and checked his foot. “Son of a bitch”

“Love that’s no way to greet me.” Vic said as he entered the room and his grin fell. “What happened?”

“I told...I gave him his name back, and that triggered him going into shock. I also sliced my foot open. Get Anders would you?” Fenris waved Vic away as he tried to find the shard. “I knew wearing boots would be a bad idea.”

Invictus went to Nakusa and tried to get his attention, failing that he called up a bit of healing magic and let the elf see his hands. “May I?”

Nakusa said nothing, his breathing coming in rapid, panting gasps as he shivered, his body twitching and jerking. Abruptly the lyrium covering one half of his body flared into life.

“Maker…” Invictus whispered before he got to his feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” with that he ran to the infirmary to get Hal or Anders, and bandages for his husband.

Hal glanced up from a bed where he had just finished bandaging the leg of an Inquisition soldier and stared over at Invictus, then with a glance to Sister Rebecca he got to his feet, wiping his hands on the apron he wore over his healer’s robes as the Chantry sister hurried over to take over from him.

“What’s wrong?” Hal asked as he walked swiftly over to Invictus.

“Nakusa is in shock and Fenris has a cut on his foot. Can you come with me please?” Vic asked once he’d caught his breath.

“I’ll send for Parcival,” Sister Rebecca said as Hal glanced to her. 

“Thank you. When the Grand Enchanter returns, ask him to come to Fenris’ rooms - they _are_ in Fenris’ room?” Hal added as he glanced back to Invictus. As the Champion nodded, Hal made his way over to a set of shelves and swiftly gathered together a healing kit and a couple of potion bottles then gestured for Invictus to lead the way. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I came to Fenris’ rooms to see if he was back from speaking with his brother and found Nakusa in shock, Fenris nursing a cut foot and all he told me was that he told his brother his true name. I guess it brought back a bunch of bad memories?” Vic said as they hurried along.

“You mean, Nakusa isn’t his real name?” said Hal. “No, don’t explain now - that’s not important,” he decided with a shake of his head as they reached Fenris’ rooms. “Let’s just -”

He broke off as he pushed the door open to find Nakusa sprawled upon the floor, writhing in pain although no sign of a wound could be seen upon his body, and Fenris desperately trying to hold his brother still so he couldn’t roll upon the shattered glass scattered across the floor.

“Invictus, can you deal with the glass please?” asked Hal as he skirted around it then dropped to his knees next to the two elves and reached for Nakusa, his hands already glowing with healing energy as he laid them upon the red-haired elf who was whimpering with pain, his teeth bared in a grimace, his eyes tightly screwed shut. His lyrium brands stuttered fitfully into life again, the silvery light flickering.

Vic did as he was told and swept it away, even laying a towel over the stain so neither elf would be further harmed. He tried to help Fenris but was pushed away as his husband hovered near his sibling.

“I shouldn’t have told him, look...please, please be alright brother.” Fenris pleaded.

Nakusa had grown quiet as Hal set to work, becoming still under the healer’s hands. His eyelids fluttered and then he blinked his eyes slowly open. 

“I can’t find anything physically wrong, but he’s obviously in pain,” frowned Hal. “I’m dampening down the pain response and trying to block the signals from the nerves which should help.”

“Maybe he’s reliving some of the pain of being branded?” Fenris asked. He got closer and rested Nakusa’s head on his lap. “Brother...I’m sorry.”

“Leto?” murmured Nakusa dazedly.

“That would explain some of the things I can sense inside, though....” Hal’s voice trailed off. “That’s odd,” he suddenly said quietly in a surprised tone. He glanced up to Invictus. “Invictus, I think it would be a good idea for Anders to check Nakusa. There’s something strange going on here. His lyrium - there’s... more of it than there should be.”

“What do you mean, more than there should be? It’s not like it can just...grow.” Vic said. 

“I’m here, I’m here please forgive me brother.” Fenris said as he carded his fingers through the other elf’s hair. “Focus on me.”

“I don’t know!” exclaimed Hal. “All I know is that it’s... there’s more there than what you can see on the surface. It’s... there’s lyrium beneath the tattoos on the other side. Not a lot, not enough to show through yet, but... it’s there. Something Anders said once -” He shook his head suddenly. “Anders needs to see this. He knows far more about such matters than I do. I’ve read the papers he’s written on lyrium, but he’s the closest to an expert we have when it comes to lyrium brands such as these.”

“Leto, it... it doesn’t hurt any more,” murmured Nakusa, drowsy. “It burned but... it’s over now.”

“Ok, you’re going to be ok. I’m sorry I hurt you, I keep doing that. Can you focus on me?” Fenris said.

Invictus looked down to see Fenris’ foot was still bleeding as he sat there with his sibling. “Take care of his foot and I’ll get Anders, any idea where he is?”

“Dorian’s room I think - something about Arden?” said Hal as he turned to deal with Fenris’ foot.

“Maker what is in the air today?” Vic asked as he headed out to find Anders and hopefully get everyone back to a semblance of normal. He knocked on the Altus’ door briskly, hopeful his husband was still there.

Dorian opened the door, his grey eyes wide and worried, his hair looking somewhat dishevelled. “Hawke? Invictus, rather - I’m sorry, I was expecting....” He pulled back, running a hand through his hair distractedly. “I’m sorry; you’re here looking for Anders, I presume?”

“In here, Vic,” called Anders, his voice sounding grim.

“Oh for Maker’s sake, not him too. I was looking for you, something happened when Fenris told Nakusa his actual name, well the name he had prior to Danarius and it sent him into shock. Hal asked me to get you because something is wrong with his lyrium.” 

As Invictus entered the room, he found Anders sitting on the edge of Dorian’s bed, leaning over Arden who was stretched out unconscious on the bed. Anders threw something to Invictus; as the dark-skinned mage caught it through sheer reflex, he looked at it and realised it was a worn and dog-eared copy of Varric’s “Tale of the Champion”.

“This is Varric’s bullshit retelling, not the full story. Why did you throw this at me?” Vic asked in confusion.

“Because it contained just enough grains of truth to bring rather more of Arden’s memories back than he was really able to handle. And it was the worst possible way for him to realised just why Sebastian wants me dead, because his own Anders wasn’t under any blood magic,” sighed Anders. 

“He was very distraught,” nodded Dorian. “He kept saying it was all his fault. I rather get the impression he still can’t remember what happened afterwards, which doubtless contributed to his pain. But he was a mess. I had to send for Anders because I honestly didn’t know what to do for the best.”

“And it was just as well you did,” replied Anders.

“But I should have guessed how he would react upon seeing you,” protested Dorian.

“Dorian, I already told you; I’m fine. And so will he be... eventually,” said Anders tiredly. He glanced back at Invictus. “I’m sorry, love, you were looking for me? What’s wrong with Nakusa?”

“I explained...but quick story is, Fenris gave him his true name and it sent him into shock.” Vic repeated without sounding exasperated, somehow. “He seems to be coming out of it now, but Hal says there’s something strange going on with his lyrium and Hal is rather out of his depth. He says there’s more lyrium in Nakusa’ body than there should be.” He frowned slightly. “Do I want to know just how Arden reacted upon seeing you?”

“He wasn’t in his right mind,” replied Anders as he rose to his feet. “Dorian, he’ll be out for several hours. I’ll send a runner to the infirmary and have a stretcher sent to take him there. And don’t blame yourself for this; it wasn’t your fault. You did the right thing.” He nodded to Invictus. “Alright, let’s go take a look at Nakusa’s lyrium.”

They were walking down the stairs when they heard Isabela calling Anders from behind. He paused and glanced back. 

“Anders, have you seen Nakusa?” she called as she made her way down the stairs towards them, barely giving Invictus a glance. The two mages exchanged glances. Isabela paused as she reached them. “What?”

“You’d better come with us, Bela,” replied Anders.

By the time they got to Fenris’ rooms, they found Nakusa sitting in a chair, looking rather dazed as Fenris poured him a glass of wine. The white-haired warrior looked very shaken, and kept darting remorseful looks at his brother. Hal was pacing slowly, a frown upon his face, though it gave way to a relieved look as Anders arrived.

“Anders, I really don’t know what to make of this,” confessed Hal. Anders crossed the room to stand in front of Nakusa as Fenris stepped aside. “It’s his lyrium.”

Anders held his hands out to Nakusa. “May I?” he asked quietly. Nakusa glanced up at Anders then set the glass of wine down upon the table and wordlessly laid his hands in those of the mage, who closed his eyes and concentrated.

“What is it?” asked Fenris in a low voice.

Isabela had slipped into the room after Anders and stood to one side, her arms folded as she watched Anders and Nakusa, saying nothing, the expression upon her face giving away nothing of her thoughts. Invictus darted her a wary glance then moved over towards the red-haired healer.

“Well? Is it true, is his lyrium... growing?” asked Fenris anxiously when Anders was still for several minutes, saying nothing. “You said that my lyrium was a living thing - is it possible that his is - is somehow _regrowing_ from where they ripped it from him?”

“Anders?” prompted Invictus when Anders remained silent. “Love?”

Anders opened his eyes and stepped back, releasing Nakusa’s hands before he rubbed his eyes wearily. “It’s true,” he said slowly. “There’s more there than there was when Solona and I worked to fix and seal it. It’s not leaking - but there are tendrils of it weaving through the flesh beneath the scars where it was ripped out. And it’s... something seems to have awakened it, for lack of a better word.” He lowered his hands and glanced to Fenris. “Another part of Mythal’s gift, Llyria thinks; Nakusa is your brother, and perhaps when you spoke his true name... well. Names - true names of things - they have power, at least when dealing with spirits and demons.”

“I am not Nakusa,” said the red-haired elf quietly. “I am - or was - Aeolus. I remember now; I remember everything.”

“What do you mean, you’re not Nakusa?” said Isabela sharply. He glanced at her, and gave a lopsided smile.

“I picked the name ‘Nakusa’ myself,” he answered. “Something of a joke.”

“It means ‘Nameless’,” said Anders drily. Nakusa - or Aeolus, as he truly was - grinned.

“Something like that, yes,” he agreed. “Danarius took my name when he peeled my flesh apart and poured lyrium into it, then half-unmade me again. Some memories came back when Varania tried to help me, but not that - not my name. And she held even that from me. But when Leto told me, it brought back everything I’d lost and forgotten.”

Fenris looked utterly distraught as he sat his glass down with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry, if I knew this would happen...I’m sorry brother.” 

“Love you didn’t know this would happen, don’t..” Vic started.

“No. Don’t fucking coddle me Vic. I hurt everyone, somehow, I sent him into shock, look at what I did by trying to help! No, just don’t, not with this.” Fenris dropped his glass as he rose to pace or leave but he realized they were all in his room. “I need to be alone, please just… give me space tonight. I’ll see you before you leave tomorrow, if you want to that is Aeolus.” the elven warrior backed away.

“Fenris,” said Anders quietly. “Whatever it is you did... I don’t think it’s as bad as you fear. I don’t think you knew, but when Mythal was granting you your memories, I was healing you and blocking the pain. Nakusa - forgive me, Aeolus - he had to go through the pain of recovering his memories without a healer’s help, but - from what I can tell, it’s left no lasting damage. But you did something else.” Anders took a step towards him. “Love, his brands would have needed maintaining the same as yours did. What Solona and I did was merely to seal the lyrium in the brands and try to bind it up - but without blood magic as Danarius would have done; basically the same thing I did about a year ago here in Skyhold. Sooner or later the binding would have broken down. But somehow, what you did - it was almost like letting Aeolus bathe in Mythal’s pool. Somehow, I think... love, I think perhaps when you spoke his true name... you let Mythal touch him, as She did you.”

He halted, tilting his head a little to one side, his gaze abstracted for a moment before he focused on Fenris again. “Llyria agrees. She can feel Mythal’s touch. Love... I think in a very real sense you just saved your brother’s life.”

“No...that’s too much. It’s ...no, Anders I cannot take another fucking strange thing happening to me, because of me. No, stop this.” Fenris said as he backed into the door and stared at them. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy.” 

“Fenris do you hear yourself?” Vic said. “Calm down and sit with us.” 

Aeolus was staring at the lyrium brands upon the backs of his fingers on one hand and the blackwork tattoos upon the other hand. “I feel so much better now,” he said slowly. “I hadn’t realised just how much my joints, my body had been aching before.” He frowned momentarily and then the lyrium lit up in a soft, muted glow for a moment before the light faded. “That... didn’t hurt.” He glanced up at Isabela. “Bringing us here - you know how much that hurt me, you saw what I was like when we finally got to our room,” he said.

Isabela nodded as she walked towards him and took his tattooed hand. “You could barely move,” she said quietly, “and that was after drinking enough to practically put Varric under the table just to try and deaden the pain,” she agreed. “It doesn’t hurt at all?”

“Not even a twinge,” replied the elf. 

Fenris had sat down but he wouldn’t look at them. He just stared at the floor and waited for something to be said or done. 

“Leto,” said Aeolus quietly as he glanced towards his brother. “Leto, look at me.”

Fenris looked to his sibling but didn’t speak. He simply wanted to leave, and not have them all staring at him like he had lost his mind. 

“Fenris, stop please. Listen to Anders, you’ve done a good thing.” Vic asked as he swept up the second shattered glass and sat on the bed.

“Leto....” Aeolus glanced at Isabela then squeezed her hand briefly before he got to his feet and crossed the room to stand before his brother. “Leto... thank you. Truly. It hurt, yes - but to have my mind, my memories intact at last? To know I am free of Danarius’ blood magic, that this damnable lyrium won’t kill me? The pain was worth it.”

“I’m glad you have regained yourself brother. I just wish I had not caused you such pain for it to happen.” Fenris said quietly. Aeolus laid his hands gently upon Fenris’ shoulders as he stared up at him.

“Better that Danarius had never laid eyes on either of us,” he sighed. “But this? Brother, you know we have experienced and survived worse than this for far longer. Had I not failed as Danarius’ test subject, he never would have inflicted this upon you. I could not control that; should you, then, take the blame for something that is beyond _your_ control? At least now I know who I truly am - and I will not let you blame yourself for the pain I experienced in exchange for that knowledge. Blame this goddess who seems to take such interest in us both.” He winked, his sudden laughter a low rumble.

“Forgive me if I do not find the humor in this brother.” Fenris said quietly as he glanced around and saw Isabela, then dropped his gaze.

“I think we should give them a chance to talk, while you get something to drink Anders and we can check on Arden, yes?” Vic suggested so they could have a reason to leave Fenris and Aeolus alone to speak. He knew having everyone in his room was making the elf feel hemmed in.

Isabela stepped forward and laid a hand on Aeolus’ shoulder. “I’ll be in the great hall talking to Varric; come find me when you’re ready, sweet thing?” she murmured to him. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek and nodded. She gave Fenris a brief glance then headed for the door.

“I suspect if I drink wine I will fall asleep, but I should check on Arden,” agreed Anders. “Hal?”

“I’m coming,” nodded the red-haired healer as he followed after the blond Grand Enchanter.

“Isabela, a moment please?” Fenris said. The pirate captain halted, then slowly turned back to face him.

“Bela?” murmured Anders. She shook her head.

“I’m fine; you go check on Arden, Sparklefingers,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off Fenris even as Anders suddenly blushed at the old nickname.

“Ah, yes, um... I’ll... ahem.” Anders turned away and hurried from the room, his cheeks bright red.

Fenris looked at her for a moment before he spoke. “I apologize for how I have treated you in the past, for not speaking or helping when Vic turned you over to the Arishok, and upon your return to Skyhold. I hope you will one day accept my words, and know they are from the heart.” he looked away, unsure he wanted to see how she reacted to his words.

Isabela’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Well. This is unexpected,” she said after a moment’s silence. “After the reception I got when we arrived....” She glanced away for a moment, then took a step towards Fenris. “I’ll admit that after the way you’ve treated me, I honestly never thought you’d ever have it in you to change, Fenris. I’m... glad to be proven wrong. I guess the changes in you are more than skin-deep after all.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile.

Fenris didn’t look up, but he didn’t edge away from her. “They go deeper than I realized.” he said quietly, as he fought not to bristle at how close she was. 

“Isabela, if you’ll speak with me later, I would ...make my own amends if you’d have them.” Vic offered.

Her eyes went to Aeolus, who tilted his head a little to one side and lifted an eyebrow in mute query before she turned back to Invictus. “Well this should be interesting,” she replied slowly. “Very well. I’m curious to know what you have to say for yourself after so long, Hawke. Come find me after dinner?”

“I thought I’d start with an apology. I will seek you out later Isabela, thank you.” Vic said as he watched her and Fenris carefully. He could tell the elf was feeling hemmed in, and he knew too well how deadly Isabela could be. That made him wary of her approaching Fenris.

Isabela turned back to Fenris, tossing her raven curls back over her shoulder as she glanced at the elf. “Don’t look so nervous,” she teased with a hint of warmth. “I’m not going to bite. Well, not unless you ask very nicely.” She winked, then grew serious once more. “I can’t imagine it was at all easy for you to apologise after so long,” she went on. “I appreciate that, and I appreciate the apology. Thank you. I don’t think you realise how much it hurt when you turned your back on me and just stood by and watched as I was handed over to the Qunari - I’d always thought of you as a friend, Fenris, and I don’t have so many of those that I can afford to lose the few I have. When you showed up with Hawke and Zevran to rescue me, I was pretty certain you were only there because Hawke had been browbeaten by Zevran into doing the right thing - and when you couldn’t even look me in the eye after, that... well. It hurt, though maybe I was expecting more than I should. That you can acknowledge that, apologise for that... it means a great deal to me, Fenris, and I thank you for it.” She chuckled wryly. “Maker knows, I’m not exactly good at this whole ‘get your feelings out’ thing myself.”

Fenris stared at the floor as she spoke, the only sound he made was a few sniffs as he heard her out. He’d never thought she liked him, had never felt like she cared about him except as something of a joke. He dropped his head and cursed himself when he felt tears sliding down his face at her words. 

“Sweet thing?” said Isabela. “Fenris?” He felt her move closer, and then her hand very lightly came to rest upon his shoulder. “Hey now - there’s no need for tears,” she said gently as she raised her hand and very gently turned his chin so she could look up into his face. “It’s alright,” she said quietly. “I forgive you.”

He turned from her grip and wiped his face as he struggled for words. Finally he glanced at her and spoke so quietly, she had to strain to hear him. “I...never thought you cared for me as more than the butt of your jokes and teasing. I never thought you considered me a friend, just an easy mark for your sarcasm. I didn’t know.” he said as he edged back from her.

Vic caught himself before he could snap at her to leave him alone, but he was going to get them to leave soon so Fenris could put himself together with some dignity.

Isabela sighed as she stared up at Fenris. “I told you, sweet thing, I’m no better at this whole feelings thing than you. I only ever tease the people I’m fond of. Maker, did you not pay attention to how I used to wind up Anders before Hawke chased him away? And he and I had known each other back in Denerim. Not to mention Aveline. I don’t waste my breath or my attention on people I don’t consider worth my time - and I had your back in every fight. And I still will, Fenris.”

She glanced at Aeolus and suddenly grinned. “And I think I’ve probably hit both my _and_ your limit of feelings talking, Fenris, so if you don’t mind I’m going to drag your handsome sexy beast of a brother away with me and see for myself just how recovered he is and leave you and Hawke in peace,” she said as she held a hand out to the red-haired elf.

Aeolus smiled in return; as he took her hand, he glanced back to Fenris. “Thank you for giving me back myself, Leto,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you later at dinner.”

Grinning still, Isabela tugged her lover towards the door. “I’ll speak to you later, Hawke,” she called as she and Aeolus left.

Vic simply locked the door and went to Fenris to check on him. “Love?”

The elf didn’t answer, he went to his bed and sprawled on his stomach, and ignored his husband. “I’m talked out Vic, just leave me be for a while, please.”

“Fenris...don’t shut me out.” Vic pleaded as he approached the bed and sat next to his husband.

“I don’t want to talk right now, just...if you want to stay, then stay. Don’t ask more than that of me.” Fenris said before he turned on his side and tried to pull the covers over himself. “You’re on the comforter.”

Vic crawled in bed with him and simply held the warrior, unsure what to do if he wouldn’t talk. He spent a couple hours in silence until he dozed off without meaning to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden isn't good company, Hawke eats some crow and Fenris gets Hal to himself, for a while.

Arden appeared at dinner that evening. He took a place at Varric’s table near Isabela and Aeolus, and though they and the dwarf all tried to draw him out into conversation, he remained almost unresponsive. He was pale, withdrawn, and spoke almost in a monotone, his responses confined to terse one-word answers. He barely ate, pushing his food around his plate without interest, though he refilled his wine glass several times as Isabela and Varric exchanged worried glances.

Invictus and Fenris weren’t much better company. For all that Invictus tried to just chat with the elf, he got one word responses, if any. He hoped that Anders, Zevran or Hal could get something out of him. He’d done a good thing, but he was still in a dark mood, and Vic hated that he couldn’t get him to even answer a simple question. The First Enchanter wasn’t looking forward to his own helping of crow after dinner was over.

Meneris and Dorian had opted to join them rather than sit at the head table, both men had gotten their fill of ceremony over the last couple of days. They joined Fenris, Anders, Hal, Invictus and Zevran at the larger, long table that they’d grouped at. He gave a nod to the others that had gathered around Varric at a smaller table near the fire. The Inquisitor noted the sombre mood at the table and merely nodded to Fenris then to Invictus in query. 

Anders was quiet as he ate, but at least in the Grand Enchanter’s case it was obvious simple tiredness was the cause. He and Zevran sat together, Anders’ head occasionally dropping down to rest upon his husband’s shoulder as his eyes closed for a minute or two before Zevran or Hal upon Anders’ other side would gently nudge the blond mage and he would sit up, blinking, then carry on eating as Zevran gave him a fondly exasperated look. 

Vic shook his head and indicated he’d explain later, the last thing he’d do was explain over Fenris’ head while he was sitting right there. “Excited for your trip? I’m sure it will be nice to get away for a while, just the two of you.” he said to Dorian and his husband.

“We are hoping that the most excitement we experience will be over the choice of what to have for dinner,” smiled Dorian. “I think we have had our fill of excitement for a lifetime; a change of scenery and some peace and quiet will be just the thing.”

“I think I’ve had enough to last both our lifetimes and a few other people’s love.” Meneris gave Dorian a smile before he went for his wine. “How’s Ellowynne getting on Anders?” he asked but noticed the mage had nodded off again. 

Without looking up from his own plate, Hal pressed a hand against Anders’ forehead over the faded and silvery sunburst scar and briefly channelled a burst of magic into a revitalising spell. Anders suddenly jerked upright, startled and awake, as Hal lowered his hand and reached for his wine glass. 

“Hmm? What?” Anders exclaimed.

“I was asking after Ellowynne, but I think you need some rest Anders.” Meneris said with a smile.

“Love, after dinner we should get you to bed, for sleep.” Vic said with a smirk. 

“Sorry, it’s been a very busy and long day,” the healer replied. “I got back to the infirmary in time for three women to decide to give birth almost simultaneously. One with twins - poor woman; she already has three. We’ve been getting quite a lot of twins recently actually.”

“That was the third set born this month,” nodded Hal.

“Something in the water?” Vic said with a shrug. “Carver and Bethy were twins, if there’d been more who’s to say we wouldn't’ have had more twins in the family? Or if Carver gets some lass with kids, they say it can be common in some families?” the former Champion offered. 

“We sometimes had many sets of twins in our clan but it was once in a blood moon. A lot of times one of them wouldn’t make it, we never understood why, rather I didn’t. I had no knowledge of children and still don’t really.” Meneris added.

“There’s an older pair of twins in the College,” said Hal. “One of them is in the advanced healing class - Garrett. Ellowynne is very fond of his sister - she’s turning out to be quite the battlemage; she’s in Invictus’ advanced class.”

“I was almost named Garrett, but Malcolm hated the name. Said a boy near his age in the Tower with that name was a dick to him, so he put his foot down about it. At least that’s the story I got. Carver at least has a fun story to his name.” Vic said wistfully. “I should stop, I’ll make myself sad, since I didn’t get much chance to chat with him.” 

Arden glanced up at him sharply then dropped his gaze back to his plate and said nothing. Isabela frowned as she watched him, then exchanged another worried look with Varric.

Fenris had remained silent, his expression blank as he finally moved his plate away and stopped pretending to eat. He pondered taking Anders to his room as an excuse to flee and go to bed early rather than talk to anyone.

Meneris gave Vic a slight smile. “You’ll see him tomorrow before Leliana leaves I’m sure. Sadly, duty called and she didn’t bring that many templars with her. It’s not as if she’s some helpless damsel, she’s more dangerous than a lot of us put together.” 

“Are the guards to protect her or to protect others from her?” asked Anders with a grin.

“Both I should think,” murmured Zevran.

“You’d say so Zev, you’re just as deadly. Maker if you were her Left Hand, there’d be no one left to oppose the Chantry.” Vic said with an overdramatic shudder.

“And what makes you think I am not?” murmured Zevran, not looking up from his glass of wine.

Invictus sat his glass down with a thunk. “Zev? You are kidding, aren’t you?”

Zevran sipped slowly at his wine, not looking at anyone.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Vic said with last glance at his Antivan spouse. 

Meneris laughed as he reached for another helping and enjoyed the way Zevran had turned things on their head. He was being mischievous, which the others rarely got to see and that unnerved Vic as well. 

A slow smile spread across Zevran’s lips and he began to chuckle. “I am the Spymaster, I would not be doing a very good job if I could not keep secrets, now would I?” he pointed out. “But no. I merely jest. I have quite enough to do without travelling Thedas as Leliana’s Left Hand.”

Vic gave a relieved laugh as he reached for his own glass. He noticed that Fenris was looking around as if he wanted to leave, and he still had to face the music with Isabela.

Fenris finally rose and excused himself, since he knew he was being bad company. “I’ll take my leave of you, apologies for cutting it short but I’m exhausted. I’ll see you for breakfast.” 

“I think perhaps Anders should also have an early night,” remarked Hal as he glanced at the blond mage.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at the redhead, unsure if that was a rather unsubtle hint for him to escort Anders to his room. Anders was already yawning again, the quick spell Hal had used earlier wearing off already. Hal was unaware of Fenris’ look; he was watching Anders with a faint frown.

“I’ll be fine,” protested Anders, just before he had to hastily cover his mouth as he yawned again. “Oh dear.”

“Come, I will walk you back.” Fenris offered.

Vic rose as well with a rueful grin and a glance at the table where Varric, Isabela, Aeolus and Arden sat. “Time for me to have my serving of crow, if you will excuse me.” 

“No need to be in such a hurry,” remarked Zevran quietly as he glanced across at the Rivaini woman. “It looks to me as though she is preoccupied with Arden. Something is not right with him I think.”

“He found out from Varric’s book just what it was I did,” said Anders quietly. “It brought more of his memories back and... well, now he understands why Sebastian hates me. He, ah, reacted badly. There may have been a bit of screaming and... er... lightning... when I got to Dorian’s room.”

“Thankfully I was able to dispel it, but that rug will never be the same again. I’m sure the scorch mark in the door can be painted over however,” replied Dorian as he reached for the wine.

Fenris waited for Anders to join him, his worry over how tired the other man was plain. “Come on Anders, you’re falling asleep on Zevran again.” 

Anders nodded as he got to his feet, Zevran pressing a hand against his shoulder to help him stay upright before the blond mage made his way around the table to join Fenris. “Sorry,” he said ruefully.

“No apology needed Anders.” Fenris wrapped an arm around his husband’s waist and headed out, glad he had a reason to leave. Within only a couple of steps, Anders was leaning against him, his head dropping onto Fenris’ shoulder.

Zevran watched them go, shaking his head before he sighed then glanced over to Dorian. “Lightning?” he said quietly.

The Altus shrugged. “All mages have certain particular magic that comes to them as second nature when they’re upset. Invictus seems to favour fire or ice. Arden seems to favour lightning. Fortunately his aim is as lousy as mine is when I’m in that kind of state - though that said, I have _very_ rarely been in that kind of state. Thankfully,” he added, with a shudder. 

“Yeah...there were some unfortunate incidents with fire and Carver when I was younger.” Vic said. “It could have been much worse.”

“And fire also for Ellowynne,” mused Zevran. “It seems she follows in her father’s footsteps - setting barns on fire as children.”

“I nearly electrocuted a particularly hated nanny,” shrugged Dorian. “I believe I was six at the time.”

“Six? That’s young isn’t it?” Vic replied.

“Yes, my father wasn’t sure whether to be delighted or angry. He settled for firing the nanny I believe.” Dorian refilled his glass, not glancing up. “Ironically, he was the one responsible for my last...ah... lack-of-control incident.”

“Oh do tell, this sounds far more interesting than me begging mercy later.” Vic’s eyes had lit up and he leaned back with a smirk.

“I don’t think it’s as amusing as you’re expecting Vic.” Meneris said as he took Dorian’s hand.

“That depends,” said Dorian quietly. “Do you find the prospect of a father using blood magic on his own son amusing? I suppose given his lifelong stance on the subject and how he drilled it into me that blood magic was the last resort of a weak mind then yes, it _could_ seem funny depending on how you look at it. I’m afraid I wasn’t really in a very good position to appreciate the humour at the time however. I was too terrified of losing my mind. My aim was atrocious, oddly enough - no control whatsoever. It was enough to make him drop the dagger and duck mind you, which gave me enough time to break my bonds, flee, and not stop running until I arrived upon Gereon’s doorstep.” He took a hasty gulp of his wine, not looking up.

An appalled silence had settled around the table. Hal looked decidedly queasy, whereas Zevran looked coldly murderous.

Invictus reached out to Dorian with an apologetic look. “I am so sorry, I would never make light of that. I’m glad you got away.”

“None as glad as I am.” Meneris said as he leaned over and gave Dorian a kiss. The Tevinter mage had closed his eyes; he drew a slightly shaky breath then turned to Meneris and returned the kiss before he finally glanced back at Invictus.

“You weren’t to know; after all, it’s not as though I’ve exactly gone around telling everyone,” he replied with a weak smile. “No harm done except slightly to my composure. I’m sure you wouldn’t have asked if you’d had the slightest inkling. But there we have it - that’s why I left Tevinter and came south and why I’ve not been back since. Now, perhaps we could move on to a much more pleasant subject, hmm?”

“Sure, you still up for a game of Wicked Grace before Varric flees tomorrow? I never got my dignity back from the last time I played him.” Vic grinned.

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” replied Dorian with a grin. “Think we could persuade him to run it for forfeits again? I swear I will never forget the sight of Cullen fleeing naked....”

“That must have been a rather enticing sight. He’s a fit man after all those years of running around in plate armor.” Vic grinned at the idea of it, even winked at Zevran. 

The Antivan chuckled. “It is as well Anders has already retired to bed, yes? Otherwise a repeat of such a defeat would likely result in Cullen expiring through sheer embarrassment upon the spot.”

“Is our esteemed Commander that enamoured of our Grand Enchanter then?” remarked Dorian. “A good job Anders is a decently-married man then and removed from the field!”

“That hasn’t stopped Fenris.” Vic quipped before he felt a piece of bread hit him in the forehead. “What? It’s not a lie Zevran.”

Zevran arched an eyebrow then very pointedly glanced at Hal, who was staring down at the tablecloth, his cheeks bright red.

“Ahh sorry Hal.” Vic said with a grimace. “It’s not like that, you know right?”

“I’m aware I am one of... of several lovers Fenris has had,” Hal said quietly.

“I’ll say,” snorted Dorian. “Fenris has had every single man at this table except one - and I don’t think Meneris is his type.”

“Love… stop, Hal is almost as red as my shirt.” Meneris said quietly. 

“I think I’m going to just continue my losing streak today and go talk to Isabela now.” Vic said as he rose and made his way to the young mage. He spoke quietly in his ear and finished by encouraging him to see the elf, since he’d had such a trying day.

Hal listened quietly, then glanced at Invictus. “Are you sure he’ll want company? He may have decided to sleep with Anders,” he murmured. “I... I wouldn’t want to interrupt or disturb them.”

“He had a hard day and Anders couldn’t even take two steps by himself. Just check on him, I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Sorry I put my foot in it with you, seems to be what I’m really excelling at today.” Vic replied.

“No, it was... it wasn’t an unfair remark,” replied Hal quietly. “I’ll drop by his rooms and check on him in a little while then.”

“Sooner than later would be better I think...he, he broke down earlier and he’s been withdrawn since. Thank you Hal.” Vic said before he turned to approach Isabela.

The pirate had leaned back in her chair and was regarding Arden with what could only be described as a frankly worried look as the mage tried to wrestle a bottle of wine off Aeolus, who was holding it firmly and shaking his head.

“No, I think you’ve had enough,” the elf was saying as Invictus approached.

“Come on, Blondie, maybe call it a night, hey?” suggested Varric.

“Ok there Arden?” Vic asked as he watched the mage calculating how to get the bottle back.

“No, it’s not OK,” slurred the mage as he eyed the bottle. “Bastard won’t give me the wine back.”

“There’s no need to disparage his lineage Arden. Maybe you should go to bed and wake up tomorrow to profoundly regret this?” Vic said as he had to catch Arden as the blond made an unwise decision to try for the bottle one last time. 

“Alright, you are going to bed ser, soon as I can get you to settle down.” Vic wondered at the burst of strength from the Champion as he tried to get him down with a spell. 

“I don’t need my fucking _bed_ , I want my wine, damn you!” roared Arden as he reached for the bottle again, surging to his feet.

“Maker you got strong.” Vic said as he wrangled Arden just enough to put him to sleep. He felt the other Hawke slump in his arms finally. “How is he that damn strong?”

“Oh thank the bloody Maker,” said Isabela as Aeolus rose to take the unconscious mage from Invictus. “I think that was sheer bloody stubbornness, though he certainly built up a fair amount of strength aboard ship.” She shook her head with a sigh, then glanced to Aeolus. “Best get him to bed with a bucket.”

“I will,” nodded Aeolus. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” shrugged Isabela. “You go take care of our sleeping beauty there.”

The elf nodded, and then his brands lit up in a brilliant flash before he vanished with Arden.

“Oh that’s going to end badly, he might puke all over when they arrive in his room.” Vic said with a sigh and turned to face her. “So… still feel like talking?”

“Sure, if you still feel like apologising?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Here or somewhere more private?”

“Maybe I should let you two kids talk in peace,” said Varric as he rose to his feet. “I’ll catch you later, Rivaini.” He headed away to one of the other tables, leaving them alone.

“Want to do this here or in someone’s rooms?” Vic asked.

Isabela shrugged. “Wherever seems best,” she replied. “Somewhere more private has the advantage of less likelihood of interruptions though.”

“Lead on then.” Vic tilted his head toward the door.

She got to her feet, grabbing the bottle of wine on the table as she strode towards the doors. “Anywhere for preference?” she asked. “Nakusa is likely to be busy with Arden for a while so our room is free, unless you can think of somewhere better.”

“No that’s fine, lead on since I don’t know where you room is actually.” Vic said warily.

Isabela turned towards the guest rooms where Arden had been put. “We’re just a couple of doors down from your otherworldly self, as it happens,” she replied. “Just down here.”

Vic followed her down the hall and remained standing as she got comfortable. “So…”

She leaned back in a chair and gestured towards him with the bottle. “This is your show, Hawke. The floor is yours and you have my undivided attention.” She smiled then took a pull from the bottle.

“I wanted to apologize. I know it’s a few years late and probably not good enough but I wanted to give you that. I know I was a shit and worthless to a lot of people, but my betrayal of you was one of the lowest things I’ve done, and I’ve felt bad about it. I would have done this sooner but you left Kirkwall pretty soon.” Vic started.

“It didn’t feel like the friendly place I remembered,” Isabela shrugged. “I’d been in that Qunari hellhole for two years; half my contacts in Kirkwall were dead and the other half had moved on. I figured maybe it was time for me to do the same. Got myself a ship and crew, started putting my life back together again. I finally managed to stop swearing in Qunlat, though I occasionally slip.”

“I was a piece of shit of a person then, I still am now sometimes. I ...I hated myself more than a lot of people realized outside of Fenris, Carver and mom before she was killed. Losing her… it broke me in a lot of ways, and I’m not ok, not one-hundred percent anyway. I’d hoped rescuing you would help but I don’t deserve it. Not for the pain you suffered.”

“I’m sorry about Leandra,” Isabela offered quietly. “She was a good woman.”

Vic nodded and looked down. “Look, there’s nothing I can probably say that will make it right between us. But I wanted to give you an apology, a real one to your face rather than carry this guilt with me any longer. I’m so sorry Isabela, if you can ever find it in you to forgive me, I’ll consider myself lucky. If you decide to take your vengeance, just… be merciful please.” he finished.

“My vengeance?” Isabela stared at him and then laughed. “Your hide is safe on that score, Hawke. Zevran and I came to an arrangement where that was concerned. It was dealt with the day we got back to Kirkwall. But forgiveness? I honestly don’t know. I forgave Fenris because at the end of the day, he wasn’t the one who actually betrayed me. He didn’t _stop_ you betraying me, mind, but he wasn’t the one who actually handed me over.” She leaned forward, and her face and voice hardened. “See, that’s what I didn’t get, Hawke. I brought back that accursed book. I _brought it back_. I didn’t have to, but for once I honestly tried to do the right thing - and you casually handed me over like I was nothing.” She got to her feet. “Like we hadn’t spent over five years fighting together. Like I’d never fought at your side, defended you, fucking _bled_ for you.” She took a step towards him, her golden eyes flashing fury. “And that was what I got in return - stabbed in the back and turned over to those horned bastards! And for what? Some fucking statue in the town square? Was it worth it, Hawke?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Vic answered honestly. “I...I hurt a lot of people, and I know it means fuck all for nothing. I was never a good man, and I proved it over and over. I was scared and a fucking coward, it’s why I did it Isabela. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. More sorry than I’ll ever have words for.” Vic repeated.

“How many others did you turn on, Hawke?” she asked softly. “And what did you do that Anders could forgive you after the way you turned on him? Or was he only too thankful that you didn’t throw him to the templars like you did all those other apostates you hunted? I never could figure that out - Merrill was a blood mage, and Anders was possessed. Not that I’m complaining - don’t get me wrong; neither of them deserved to be handed over to that bitch Meredith. But why me, and what made you spare them?” She stepped closer. “And how did you change so much that Anders could forgive you, fall in love with you? What in the Void did Arden say or do to open your eyes?”

“Anders saw through me… he also disabused me of a lot of the pain I was carrying around with me.” Vic finally slid down against the door and stared up at her. “I was letting Fenris abuse me in penance for all I’d failed to do in life. Anders… is a big part of my change. It wasn’t in thanks for letting him go. I owe him so much Isabela, he’s why I’ve changed. Why Fenris and I both have changed. If not for his love, I’d probably be dead by now, if not by my own hand then someone I’d wronged come for their own payback.” Vic felt wrung out by his confession but he knew Isabela wasn’t likely satisfied by his answer.

“As for you? I’m a terrible fucking person, that’s why. I thought it was better you than me, and I was really angry that we’d traipsed around Kirkwall all that damned time while you knew you were the reason for the Qunari invasion and them sticking around. I thought it … acceptable in my stupidity.” 

Isabela stared at him then slowly shook her head. “Anders is too good for the likes of you,” she said quietly. “If ever you hurt him then I swear I will hunt you down and gut you - and Zevran won’t have a chance to talk me out of it this time, you can be certain of that,” she added. She turned away and reached for the bottle of wine again. She stood with her back to him as she took another pull from the bottle then stood there, staring at the bottle in her hand. 

“I don’t know if I can bring myself to forgive you, Hawke,” she admitted. “Probably not right now. Maybe later, when I’ve had a chance to think this over. Right now I am still very angry with you.”

“I know, I don’t expect you to ever forgive me to be honest, I wouldn’t deserve it. If so I’ll consider myself lucky. Do you have the answers you wanted for now?” Invictus asked.

She turned back towards him. “Yes, I think I do,” she nodded. “Thank you for at least being honest. It would have helped if you’d done this a year ago - but better late than never, I guess.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for hearing me out, we’ll see you both off in the morning if you are ok with it. If I can get Fenris to show even.” Vic said softly.

She shrugged. “He’ll feel better in the morning, unlike Arden. Maker, I guess he’ll not be coming back with us to the ship, the state he was in.” She sighed. “Pity, he was a damned good crewmate. Still, maybe this is the best place for him for now until someone puts that stuck-up prig of a Chantry reject out of all our collective misery.”

“I don’t know if he will Isabela, if he does get up I’ll be sure he sees his brother off.” Vic said as he rose and opened the door. “I am good to them, and I know more than anyone that I do not deserve the happiness they give me.” he said before he left.

Isabela stared at the door for a long while after he’d gone, pondering things. After a while, the unpleasant sounds coming from the bathing chamber next door finally registered and she rolled her eyes and went to help her elven partner deal with the extremely drunk mage.

She’d think about Invictus Hawke and what he did or did not deserve some other time.

***

Fenris had curled up in bed with a book after seeing Anders off to bed. He was content to ignore the knocking until it became insistent. “Who is it?” he finally called out in irritation.

“I’m sorry... it’s me, Hal,” came the familiar voice of the scarred healer, muffled slightly through the door.

“Come in, it’s not locked.” Fenris set the book aside and sat up to greet the mage. “What brings you by?”

“Concern for you and mortification for me,” replied Hal as he entered, blushing slightly.

“Mortification? What happened when I left?” Fenris patted the bed and scooted over for Hal to join him.

“Ah... let’s just say there was a round of people’s feet being inserted into mouths - mostly Invictus putting both feet in his mouth - and one of them hit a little close to home,” answered Hal with an embarrassed smile. “You seem to have had rather a trying day, so I wondered if perhaps you’d mind some company?”

“If you want, I don’t know how entertaining I’ll be.” Fenris replied as he rolled to his side and looked at the redheaded mage. “What did Vic say? Do I need to speak with him?”

Hal sat on the edge of the bed and toed off the soft slippers he habitually wore in the infirmary before he sat back on the bed, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

“I don’t think you need do that,” he answered. “I think he was mortified enough himself. And it wasn’t as bad as what he said to Dorian in any case.”

“I suppose that’s good. I’m not in the mood for any more arguing tonight.” Fenris said as he rolled to his back. “Did Vic tell you to check on me?” 

“No,” Hal hedged. “He said he thought you might appreciate my company though.”

“You’re a terrible liar, but I do appreciate the company regardless.” Fenris stared up at the ceiling and fell silent once more. 

“Am I really that bad at it?” asked Hal quietly after a moment.

“A little yeah. Sorry I can’t fucking say anything right today.” Fenris said as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Apologies.”

Hal smirked. “No, it’s fine,” he replied. “My Fenris - well, Arden’s and mine - he always used to say I was utterly lousy at bluffing in Wicked Grace. I think it’s because the Tranquil - well, they _can’t_ lie. So I just pretty much lost the ability to lie when faced with an honest question. I mean, lie by omission - we did that all the time back in the Gallows. But when asked a direct question....” He shrugged and gave Fenris a small grin. “It’s OK. I wanted to come see you anyway. I was just worried I might disturb you if you were with Anders.”

“I wasn’t in the right frame of mind and he was practically asleep on his feet. I got him to bed and came in here to read. I’ll see him soon enough.” Fenris replied. 

“He’s had an exhausting day,” shrugged Hal. “What with Arden throwing a lightning bolt at him earlier apparently whilst... well, it seems he recovered some of his memories and reacted very badly. Worse than Nakusa - or should I say Aeolus now?”

“I think so, but I really just want to be quiet for the moment Hal. Not, not talk but not about that.” Fenris replied.

“I’m sorry - forgive me, I didn’t mean to -” Hal broke off as he stared at Fenris, then he turned and curled up against Fenris, pressing his forehead against the elf’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Would you rather I go? Or I can stay and I promise I’ll be silent if you’d rather. Or whatever you need.” He closed his eyes and waited.

“You can stay Hal, things would have to be really, really bad for me to ask you to leave.” Fenris said as he held the young man close.

Hal couldn’t quite hold back a sigh of relief as he snuggled closer. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.

“Stay like this a while with me. It’s gentle...nice.” Fenris replied as he curled closer to Hal.

The young mage closed his eyes and let his head rest against Fenris’ chest. It had been a while since he had lain with Fenris like this, and he missed it; missed feeling the elf’s strong arms around him, holding him close. Missed hearing Fenris’ heart beating steadily against his ear. Somehow, Fenris just felt like “safe” and “home” to the young healer; and though he knew Anders, Zevran and Invictus of necessity must come first to the elven warrior, still he couldn’t help but feel lonely without Fenris. 

“Missed you,” he breathed after a while.

“Missed you too Hal. I know I am not ...no shut up Fenris.” he chastised himself. “I’m glad for you, and this. It’s nice to just lie with you for a while and hold you.” 

“I know what you were going to say,” said Hal quietly. “But I’m not here because I miss the Fenris from my world. It’s _you_ I’ve missed.” He turned his head slightly and kissed Fenris’ skin over his heart. 

Fenris sniffed and tried to turn away so Hal wouldn’t see him sobbing. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, breaking into tears at simple affection. 

Hal lifted his head as he felt Fenris pulling away, and then his eyes widened as he felt Fenris’ breath hitch. “Fenris?” He glanced towards the elf’s face. “Fenris - oh... oh, you’re... crying? Fenris, it’s alright! It’s alright, please, don’t cry!” he said anxiously.

“Sorry, today has been really hard and I... this is the third time I’ve burst into tears today. What is wrong with me?” he asked before he rolled back to embrace Hal.

“I don’t know,” said Hal as he slipped his arms around Fenris’ neck and pressed himself close against the other man’s body. “Tell me what I can do to help?” he pleaded.

“I don’t know, hold me. Tell me I’m not a terrible person Hal.” Fenris replied.

Hal buried his face against Fenris’ neck. “You can’t be a terrible person,” he breathed. “I can’t believe that I, Anders, Invictus and Zevran could all fall for a terrible person. Zevran practically worships the ground you walk on, Anders would die rather than see you come to harm, Invictus has loved you for almost half my lifetime - and I _love you_. I - Fenris, I _died_ for you. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah when I’m not feeling like a waste of air and space. I’m just wrung out by today and I feel so fragile right now. I’m sorry Hal, I shouldn’t worry you.” Fenris replied. 

“I didn’t die for a waste of space and air,” said Hal quietly. “I died for a man I love, who makes me feel like there’s a reason to carry on living on living, some days. A terrible person? No. No, I really don’t think so.” He pressed soft kisses against Fenris’ neck then along the side of the elf’s jaw.

“I said I’m fragile…I’m sorry.” Fenris repeated as he pulled the mage to him. “Sorry… sorry.”

Hal bit back a small sob. He hated seeing Fenris in these moods. The warrior had always seemed so strong, so powerful; when he got into this mindset it seemed nothing anyone said could reach him, and it made Hal himself feel weak and powerless against it. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Fenris’ hair, inhaling deeply until all he could smell, all he could feel, all he could hear was the elf - the scent of his hair, the touch of his skin, the sound of his breathing as he held Hal close.

Fenris held onto Hal close and started to talk, just anything that came to mind until he felt like he could speak regularly. “Thank you for being here.”

“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” answered Hal softly. 

“Thank Mythal for you.” Fenris said quietly.

“For me? Why?” said Hal, a little startled. He lifted his head and opened his eyes as he stared up at Fenris.

“You’re a gift Hal, a lovely precious gift that I am glad for.” Fenris replied.

Hal blinked as a pink blush slowly stole over his cheeks. “Oh! Um... oh. I... don’t know what to say to that,” confessed the mage.

“You don’t have to say anything, just be with me tonight? I could use some gentleness please.” Fenris replied with a light smile. Hal smiled in return.

“I’d like that,” he answered. He stretched up to press a light kiss to Fenris’ lips.

Fenris rolled them over so he was on top of Hal and kissing him gently as he rolled his hips against the other man. Hal whimpered faintly and lifted his head to chase Fenris’ kisses with his own.

“Please,” he whispered; as Fenris ground against his hips he bit his lip and then moaned softly.

The elven warrior slipped his hands into Hal’s as he continued to kiss him, and moved to nibbling his ears and neck. “You want me on top, or do you want to ride?” he asked between kisses.

“You on... on top,” Hal managed in a breathless whisper. He slipped his hands free and began to unbutton his robe as he stared up into Fenris’ eyes.

Fenris sat back and let Hal undress before he kicked off his sleep pants and resumed his slow grind against the red-head. “Want...want to please you, can I suck you first?”

Wordlessly, Hal nodded; as Fenris moved back down his body, the red-head lifted himself up upon his elbows to stare down at him.

Fenris got to work, taking Hal in his mouth half way, slowly bobbing up and down so he could give his mage pleasure. He didn’t look up at Hal, he was so focused on what he was doing. 

Hal shivered as he felt the wet warmth of Fenris’ mouth enveloping him and he let his head drop back as he groaned. “Fenris....” he moaned, then shuddered.

The elf didn’t stop, but he did look up at Hal and gave him a heated look as he sped up just a bit, taking him down to the base on each dip of his head. Hal keened softly and twitched, his fingers curling into the bed covers as he panted. “Fen...Fenris... need....”

The elven warrior pulled away and glanced to Hal. “Need what?” he asked in a low rumble.

“Please... your hand... your fingers... Fenris, please take me,” Hal begged, breathless as he managed to lift his head and stare at Fenris, his eyes slightly glazed and his face flushed, sweat plastering loose strands of crimson hair to his face.

Fenris grinned as he stood and gently pushed Hal to his back. “Easy, there’s no rush .” he got the oil, but didn’t use it. He set it down and resumed sucking Hal slow and easy until he felt a tug on his hair. “Did you want something?” 

Hal lifted a hand to his mouth and bit down on two fingers as he whimpered, his hips twitching as he fought against the urge to snap them up and start fucking Fenris’ mouth. He curled the fingers of his free hand into the sheets and gripped hard as his body twitched and shuddered beneath Fenris.

The elven warrior smiled as he finally uncapped the oil, and slicked his fingers before he slipped one in and watched the red-head under him respond. “More?”

“Oh Maker yes,” moaned Hal. “Please, please - more!” He parted his legs as he drew his knees up, spreading himself for Fenris’ hand. “Oh Maker, Fenris....”

“Eager... I like that.” Fenris whispered against his skin as he added another finger and slowly thrust into him while he watched Hal’s every expression. He felt playful but didn’t want things to go wrong if his partner wasn’t feeling that way.

Hal had lifted his head to stare at Fenris; as he felt the second finger slip into him beside the first he let his head drop back and whimpered faintly. “Want...want you in me... so bad,” he whispered.

“How bad?” Fenris asked as he worked a third finger in then leaned in to lap at Hal’s cock while he continued to finger him nice and slow.

Hal cried out, his body shivering and twitching. “Oh Maker, Fenris, _please_!” he begged, his voice hitching a little. “Please, just - just fuck me, _please!_ ”

“Can’t take it tonight?” Fenris said as he pulled his fingers free and oiled himself up. He wiped his fingers clean, uncaring about the bedding before he slid into Hal with a leer. “Better?” he asked quietly.

Hal cried out again as he felt Fenris fill him, then gave a thankful moan. “Yes, yes... Fenris....” he whimpered as he gripped the sheets to steady himself.

The elven warrior rolled his hips steadily, each thrust getting a moan of his name or a soft plea from Hal. “Beautiful.” he whispered as he took in how good Hal looked, and moaned with each time the other man tightened against him. 

The tie had come loose from Hal’s hair and the braid had steadily unravelled as Hal writhed beneath the elf; it now fanned out around Hal, only adding to his wanton and dishevelled appearance as the red-haired mage rocked himself back to meet each thrust as Fenris pumped slowly in and out of his willing body. His breaths were a series of gasped pleas, Fenris’ name, and soft moans as Hal was lost in the sensations of his body, all else forgotten save what Fenris was doing to him. Corypheus himself could have appeared in the room at that moment and Hal wouldn’t have cared; he had eyes only for Fenris, his own gaze glazed and almost feverish. “Harder,” he begged.

Fenris complied, his thrusts faster and harder, as he leaned in and pinned Hal’s hands to the bed, his eyes closed once he’d claimed the mage’s mouth once more. He was lost to the pleasure of taking his lover to the edge. He felt Hal’s legs wrap around his waist, pulling at him to go faster, harder. “Love you.” he said as he pulled back to breathe.

Hal moaned. “I’m yours,” he gasped as he tightened his grip, canting his hips until Fenris was hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His neck arched backwards as his eyes widened, feeling a hot, insistent urge building in his groin. “Close... fuck, Fenris....” he managed to gasp, his body shuddering.

The elven warrior growled in his ear, his mind only barely registering that his wings had spread while he sped up his thrusts, his focus on Hal and the pleasure he felt. “Come...for… me.” he managed to get out as he went even faster.

Hal’s eyes rolled back and then he cried out as he came, his body shuddering and jerking beneath Fenris. He groaned as the orgasm rolled through him, panting as he felt Fenris’ thrusts speed up, the elf now chasing his own climax. 

Fenris didn’t stop until he felt his own orgasm begin, the only thing that changed was the speed of his hips and his rhythm faltered as he let Hal’s hands go and rested his head against the mage’s chest. “Meant...to go ...longer, sorry.” he panted.

Hal’s chest still heaved as he fought to bring his breathing and racing heart back under control, his eyes opening only slowly. He blinked in confusion. “Wings,” he finally managed, his voice bewildered.

“Hmm, what?” Fenris asked as he leaned down to nuzzle at Hal, unwilling to move just yet.

Hal blinked as he stared at the large, leathery wings that had half-folded against Fenris’ back, the swirls across their folds shimmering faintly silver in the dim light.

“You... your wings,” Hal managed. He gestured vaguely at Fenris’ back with one hand, ennervated and tired. 

“Oh yeah… felt that earlier. I didn’t care, shows how good it felt that I couldn't control myself. Do they bother you, I’ll pull them in if you want.” Fenris mumbled. 

“Huh,” Hal breathed. “No... just... just noticed them.” He was beginning to find it a little hard to breathe; Fenris was heavy as he lay atop the slender mage, pinning him to the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, unwilling to ask Fenris to move just yet even though his chest was beginning to ache a little as he still panted softly.

Fenris rumbled something as he continued to nuzzle at Hal, he was sated and happy; unaware of how he was keeping the other man pinned. 

Hal lifted a hand a little weakly to stroke Fenris’ hair, his breath beginning to wheeze a little. He felt light-headed and suddenly very tired as he let his hand trail through Fenris’ hair slowly then still upon the elf’s shoulder. “Fenris,” he managed to whisper.

“Yeah?” Fenris asked then frowned at how Hal sounded. “Maker…I’m sorry!” he rolled to his side so Hal could breathe. “I forget how heavy I am sometimes, are you ok?”

Hal drew a deeper breath with a gasp, then nodded. “Just a little out of breath,” he admitted. “Just give me a moment.” He managed to roll onto his side and drew another breath.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I’d rather not end the night with suffocating you.” Fenris gave him a kiss before he rose to get flannels to clean them up.

Hal lay still; his body felt limp, drained and yet sated. Though he felt exhausted and unable to move, it was a good sort of exhausted. He knew he wasn’t far from sleep; it was taking an effort not to simply close his eyes and drift off. He smiled drowsily as Fenris cleaned him, managing to focus on the elf’s face. “Thank you,” he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when Fenris tries to do right, he still gets it wrong. Meneris has no patience and Anders oversleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hint of suicidal ideation

“Welcome, actually I should thank you for coming by and letting me be with you tonight.” Fenris said as he trailed his fingers down Hal’s back as he rose. Hal’s eyes had drifted closed at the touch of Fenris’ hand upon his skin; they opened again as he felt Fenris moving and he glanced up, sleepily curious. “Hmm? Oh... I’m happy to do this any time,” he murmured. “Gets very lonely on my own... I miss you.”

Fenris crawled back into bed with Hal and pulled the covers over before he pulled the younger man to him. “Hal, are you truly alright with sharing me? I ...it bothers me that I am not fully able to give you the time you deserve and all of me. I don’t like that you are lonely still.” he asked.

Hal sighed softly. “I love you,” he said quietly. “I’m just happy to be able to spend time with you like this. I know you have Anders, Invictus and Zevran to consider; I’m just... happy that you can still spare a little time for me.” He smiled a little sadly. “I wish Arden remembered me. But I can’t....” He turned and buried his face in the pillow as his hair fell forward. “It doesn’t matter,” he finished, his voice muffled.

“Hal, look at me… what’s wrong? I don’t want you to feel like an afterthought to me, ever.” Fenris nudged at the other man until they were face to face. “You can be honest with me, if you’re unhappy don’t hide it from me. I’m a big boy, I can take it if you need more or less from me. I just, I just want you to be happy and not feel like you’re not important to me. You are, so damned important Hal.” 

Hal stared up at Fenris, his mismatched eyes half-hidden behind the blood-red hair that almost covered his face. He was hugging himself, arms wrapped around his slender torso.

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted quietly. “It’s... Fenris, this isn’t something you can fix. You’ll be leaving for Tevinter soon, with Dorian and Anders and Calpernia, and I - I’ve just got to get used to being alone. Anders says that Arden might not ever fully regain his memories - he, he might never remember me. And I just have to accept that. Fenris, I’ll take what small measure of happiness I can, and be thankful for it.” He closed his eyes and tried to turn his face away again.

Fenris frowned and brushed Hal’s hair from his face. “Hal, look at me please and listen.”

Hal held still for a moment, then gave a small, wordless sigh and opened his eyes slowly, not quite looking at Fenris until he felt the elf’s fingers gently yet firmly grasp his chin and turn his face towards himself. He let his eyes meet Fenris’ gaze and he stared back at him. “I’m listening,” he whispered.

“Hal…” Fenris paused and swallowed as he forced himself to say what he should have said long ago. “I love you very much, and because of that I need to say this. I am worried you never grieved for _your_ Fenris because I’m here as a substitute. I’m worried that you accept crumbs of affection from me because you miss him and never...accepted his death. It’s hard to know you are lonely without me, and that you get only a fraction of my heart. It’s not healthy Hal.” The elven warrior took a deep breath and tried to keep from making it worse.

Hal was already looking stricken, as though he expected Fenris to tell him to leave or worse. He swallowed hard as he stared at Fenris, blinking hard against the hot, stinging feeling in his eyes. He didn’t trust himself to speak, unable to tear his gaze away from the green eyes regarding him with concern.

“I’m not ending things Hal, but I want there to be nothing hidden between us or ...any kind of untruth. Because I care, and because I want you to be happy, to be whole again some day I had to say it. I know too well what it’s like to want someone to love you, even a little that you’ll take whatever they give with a smile. I don’t want to hurt you like that. The pain of it is terrible. I just hope you don’t hate me now, but ...hearing you say you’re content with whatever I give you, it was too much and I had to say this. Please, yell, hit me, or scream at me if you need to. If you hate me, I’m sorry but I...just needed to tell you this.” Fenris blinked as he felt his own eyes welling up, but he didn’t drop his gaze from the other man.

As Fenris spoke, Hal’s eyes blinked rapidly and his breathing hitched as he hugged himself tighter; and as the elf asked him to yell or hit him, he began to frantically shake his head, tears running down his face. “No, no I couldn’t... I would never do that!” he managed to gasp. “Don’t... don’t send me away, please! Don’t make me leave!”

“I’m not sending you away, I’m just… I just wanted to, fuck I messed this all up. I am worried about you Hal. I know Arden not remembering you is bothering, no hurting you. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to add to your pain. I worry and I love you and I don't’ want you to substitute me for someone you loved who is gone.” Fenris said in a rush, worried he’d done more harm than good.

Hal clenched his eyes closed tight as he curled in upon himself, his shoulders shaking as he wept almost silently save for his ragged gasps for breath. His chest hurt, a hot fierce ball of pain that felt as though it were choking him, his throat closing. He gritted his teeth and tried to quell his tears but he couldn’t stop the gasps that shook his body. He was aware of Fenris making soft sounds of comfort, a hand stroking his hair, but he couldn’t speak, his throat tight.

“Hal...Hal?” Fenris said as he sat up and pulled the mage into his lap, and comforted him with quiet words and a hand brushing circles on his back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. Please, tell me how to fix this.”

Hal shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He didn’t think he could get any words out for the pain in his chest and the way his throat felt choked. It was all he could do to try and quell the tears, fight the ragged gasps as he tried to breathe past the pain. “Hurts,” he finally managed to gasp. “Can’t.”

“I take it back, I’ll take it all back… I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m so fucking stupid.” Fenris said as he wrapped his arms around Hal and whispered apologies to the young man. “Please Hal, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Hal moaned as he let his head rest against Fenris’ chest. He almost could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much inside; how could Fenris take it back? He’d only spoken the truth, after all. No matter how tightly Hal screwed his eyes shut, he couldn’t help but see that. 

_His_ Fenris was dead. Only Arden could have told him how or why, and Arden wasn’t saying. _Couldn’t_ say. He might never recognise, remember Hal; and where did that leave him? Fenris was only trying to show him the truth he’d been denying for so long; but with the changes in the elf’s body, it had been harder and harder to lie to himself, to let himself believe that he was his. Fenris would be leaving soon, and Hal would be alone; and he had never known just how much emotional pain could hurt physically like this.

“I wish I were Tranquil!” he cried.

“No! Don’t say that!” Fenris said as he turned Hal to face him. “Please, never, ever say that again, please Hal.” he blinked as he felt the tears that had built up finally fall. “Never, ever wish that. I know it hurts, I know, I’m sorry Hal. Maker forgive me I am sorry to have done this to you, if I could take it away I would. Mythal strike me down for hurting you. I messed it all up, I’m sorry.”

Hal shook his head. “No magic is worth this,” he wept. “You don’t understand. Since Endrin left... there’s nothing there, and everything just seems to hurt more, and you don’t want me and my Fenris is dead and Arden may as well be, and - and - Maker, Fenris, I’d sooner be Tranquil if it means feeling like this for the rest of my life!” He lifted his head to stare at Fenris, his eyes wide and a little wild. “I’d sooner be _dead!_ ”

“Hal! Listen to yourself! Did you not hear me? I do want you, I do! I just don’t want to be unfair to you. Don’t say you’d rather be dead, Maker, Mythal and Dumat never, ever say that. It would destroy some of us. Don’t you say that again, please Hal. Do you understand what it did to me when you died the first time? How I thought…no, no. I need to stop making this about me.” 

Fenris took a deep breath and cradled Hal’s face in his hands. “The world would be much dimmer without you in it. Please don’t think it will be better with you gone. I am so sorry for hurting you tonight. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I messed up. Forgive me this pain, I just wanted to do right and I messed everything up. Please don’t say you’d rather be dead, please.” 

“You don’t understand,” whispered Hal brokenly. “Just how much it hurts when they leave me... they all leave me in the end. Anders, Arden, my Fenris...even the Bull.” He closed his eyes against the fresh wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm him. “He left me, Fenris. He nearly killed me. Why? Why does everyone have to leave? Endrin too. And now you’ll be gone and I can’t bear it.”

“I’m not leaving for good! It’s just work. I’ll come back… wait don’t you still want to go with us to Tevinter? I was looking forward to you being there with me.” Fenris said softly.

“I don’t know, I don’t - I can’t think straight, it hurts - my head hurts, my - my chest-” Hal moaned, just as there was a soft tap on the door which then opened and Invictus walked in, a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a hopeful smile on his face which died on his lips as he took in the sight which greeted him.  
“Should I leave you two alone?” Vic asked as he took in the sight of both men tearful and upset.

Hal lifted his head and glanced miserably at the other mage. “I’m sorry,” he whispered tonelessly. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for Hal, I’m the one that came in to what seems to be a serious conversation.” Vic said softly.

Fenris glanced over Hal’s shoulder at his husband then back to Hal. “He’s brought whiskey, maybe we should have a drink and Vic can be of more use than I can? Seems like tonight is my turn to break everything.” 

Hal seemed to slump a little as he lowered his head then nodded. “Why not?” he murmured, his voice still toneless. He lifted a hand and scrubbed at his wet face. The fierce burning pain in his chest and throat had subsided a little to be replaced by an empty, hollow ache as his head throbbed. Maybe if he drank enough, he could pass out and all of this would just seem a horrible nightmare he could forget for a while.

Vic just handed the opened bottle to Hal and got a chair to sit nearby. 

Fenris dropped his head to his hands and fell silent. He’d royally screwed up the day and a lovely time with Hal. He didn’t take the bottle when he felt Hal nudge him with it. “It’s a bad idea, I already feel like shit.” he muttered.

Hal shrugged, then took a pull of the whiskey. It burned on its way down his throat, bringing fresh tears to his eyes as he coughed a little before taking another. If he got drunk quickly then maybe they wouldn’t expect him to talk.

“Fenris, what’s wrong? What happened between you two, I mean you clearly had a good time at some point tonight, so where did it go sideways?” Vic asked.

“I’m a fucking idiot...that’s what.” Fenris muttered as he untangled himself and flopped back with an arm flung over his face. 

Hal swung his legs over the side of the bed then hunched over as he sat on the edge, the bottle clutched in both hands as he stared at the floor. He took another pull from the bottle, savouring the burn as it went down. It wasn’t quite so bad as that first mouthful had been, and he could feel almost a warm glow inside. It didn’t really fill the empty aching void inside, but it seemed to deaden the pain a little. 

“He’s not an idiot,” he said quietly. “He told me the truth.”

“And in the process, hurt you enough that you wished to be Tranquil or dead.” Fenris said tiredly.

Hal paused in the act of lifting the bottle to his lips again and winced.

“You ...want to be what Hal?” Vic asked as he scooted over to face the younger mage. “I don’t think anything Fenris could say would make you want that.” 

Hal lowered the bottle without drinking and stared at the floor, unwilling to meet the other mage’s eyes. “It would be easier than dealing with... with this, the emptiness, the -” He sighed, and closed his eyes. “My emotions... everything is just... _more_ than it was before I was Tranquil. You have no idea what it’s like. I spill a jar of herbs in the dispensary and I find myself in tears. In the middle of a fight, it’s like my heart stops in my chest, I’m so terrified. When I’m happy, it’s like I could die from sheer joy.” He lifted his eyes slowly. “And when I think about - about everyone I’ve lost... our Anders, my Fen- m-m-my F-fenris....” He blinked hard as fresh tears began to flow. “Endrin is gone, and Bull... Maker, he should have just cut my head clean off, it would hurt less than the pain I felt inside when he walked away. And this... tonight... Fenris....” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, feeling his throat grow tight again. “He simply made me face the truth,” he gasped. “He’s right. I’ve been denying it to myself. My Fenris is dead and he’s not coming back. Belann is dead, and Arden doesn’t remember me.” 

He opened his eyes and stared at last into Invictus’ eyes. “If you were to drive a knife into my heart right now, I don’t think it could hurt any more than it does at this moment, and it would be over quicker,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “And if I were Tranquil, I wouldn’t feel this at all.”

Vic reached out and took the bottle from Hal, his expression troubled. “Hal, be honest are you thinking of ending things? This sounds too much like...you wish to die.” 

Fenris lifted his arm and stared at both of them, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Hal closed his eyes. “I just want the pain to stop,” he said softly. “I don’t want to feel this any more.”

“Pain,” said a voice softly from the shadows. “Chest hurting, throat tight, wanting to rest. Remembering how it felt to not feel. Help him.”

“Get out of my room demon!” Fenris hissed as his brands lit up. 

“Cole...now isn't the time and you know Fenris doesn’t like it when you just pop up like this.” Vic said as he tried to keep the elf from charging. 

“But I could feel him hurting!” protested Cole. “His pain is like a bell, ringing through the whole keep. Keep him whole, help him. Not wanting to die but not wanting to hurt.” The spirit stepped out of the shadows, head tilted a little to one side. “You know how that feels, and you could help him but your words cut him. But he turns to them anyway because he’d rather bleed for you than be empty inside.”

Fenris had bared his teeth at Cole and felt his control slipping. “Get...out.” he snarled. 

“I know you want to help Cole, but you know you ...upset Fenris when you do this. I know you just want to make the pain stop but we’ve got this. You should go now.” Vic said as he stepped in front of his husband and hoped it wouldn’t be a mistake.

“Help him,” said Cole desperately. “He wants to stop hurting but he doesn’t know how.” The spirit backed away and then suddenly he was gone.

Hal had hunched in upon himself, shivering. “How... how did he see my thoughts?” he murmured.

“He’s a demon, stay away from him.” Fenris said as he finally relaxed his stance and went to put on pants. “I hate him, he creeps me out.” 

“He was trying to help Fenris, you know he means no harm.” Vic sighed and poured Hal a drink before he took a sip for himself. “As for how he saw your thoughts, he is...was, maybe still is a spirit of compassion.” 

Hal accepted the glass and stared into the depths of the amber liquid. He took a sip, and then closed his eyes as he sighed softly. “What should I do?” he asked quietly. “What happens now?”

Vic glanced at Fenris and waited for him to respond, hopeful the elf had a useful reply.

“Maybe go to sleep? I already hurt you once, I don’t know what else to say that won’t make it even more hurtful.” Fenris muttered as he leaned against the wall and stared at Hal.

“I think I should let you both talk, if you are ok with it. Maybe tomorrow, we can have lunch and talk more Hal? I don’t know that I have any wisdom but maybe speaking with someone who isn’t Fenris would help?” Vic offered.

Hal stared into the whiskey. “Perhaps,” he said tiredly. He let his eyes slide over in Fenris’ direction, not quite daring to meet the elf’s eyes, uncertain what he would read there. “Should I go?” he asked hollowly.

“No, I told you I want you to stay now and with me. If you can stand to be near me now, I would have you here.” Fenris replied as he looked to Hal, sad the other man wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll come by and wake you, Aeolus wanted to see you before they took off tomorrow. If you’re up to that Fenris.” Vic said as he topped up Hal’s glass and made sure to take the bottle with him. “I don’t think this will help matters much so I’ll keep it for later. Will you two be alright?” 

Hal finally lifted his gaze enough to meet Fenris’ eyes. “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” he said, as much to Invictus as to Fenris. 

“Thank you.” Fenris said as he glanced to Invictus. 

“I’ll be by at first light, if you two would join everyone for breakfast. Try to sleep well, and if you need anything I’ll be up for a while longer, knock first in case...Zevran has dropped by.” Vic gave them another glance before he left them alone.

The elven warrior stripped again and sat with Hal, an arm carefully draped around his waist. “I _am_ sorry for hurting you. If you never forgive me, I’ll understand.” Fenris said as he rested his head on Hal’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to cause so much trouble,” said Hal quietly before he downed the whiskey in his glass.

“Don’t apologize Hal, this was all my fault. I should just stop fucking talking, forever.” Fenris said as he cautiously pulled the mage to him. “Please forgive me for this.”

“Maybe... maybe we should _both_ stop talking... jus’... jus’ fuck, that was... nice,” slurred Hal as he let his head drop onto Fenris’ shoulder. He blinked slowly. “I’m... drunk,” he realised.

“How drunk are you?” Fenris asked as he pulled Hal’s hair from his face again. “Are you going to be sick?”

“Room’s spinning,” slurred Hal, then pressed a hand against his stomach. “Think... yeah, I’m....” He groaned queasily. “Bucket?”

Fenris jumped up and grabbed a bucket from the corner of the room, and sat it between Hal’s feet. He scooted behind the mage and pulled his hair back, but not before the younger man started to retch.

Hal slid forward onto his knees and braced himself over the bucket as his stomach abruptly decided to do its best to turn itself inside out as he retched, gasping raggedly for breath between each paroxysm. He was only vaguely aware of the tug of Fenris’ hands in his hair, holding it back, or of the hard floor against his knees. When it was over and his stomach was twisting emptily, he collapsed onto his side on the floor, uncaring of how his hair pulled free from the elf’s hands. He groaned, feeling drunk, wretched and stupid.

Fenris got a flannel and dipped it in cold water for Hal’s head and a glass for him to drink. “Just … stay there, I’ll get some mint and some tea.” he said as he laid the cloth over the mage’s head and slipped away to dress.

Hal groaned again piteously at the mention of tea. He felt his stomach give another treacherous lurch, but he didn’t think there was anything left to bring up. The floor was cold, but he was too tired and drunk to attempt getting up. He closed his eyes, but that only seemed to make the spinning worse. He whimpered quietly.

Fenris slipped a pillow under his head before he dashed away to the kitchens and teleported back to his room so he wouldn’t leave Hal alone for too long. “Sit up, this mint and tea will help. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

“Leave me here,” moaned Hal. “Jus’... just let me die here....”

“You’re drunk, not dying. Unfortunately I have too much experience with this.” Fenris said as he got Hal to sit up and pressed the glass of water into his hands. “Slow, small sips.” he cautioned as he started to wipe him off and grimaced at the mess he’d made. “I think you’ll need a bath before bed now.”

“I’m an idiot,” Hal whimpered. “Why am I such an idiot?” He stared blearily at Fenris. “Is that why everyone leaves me? I’m too much of a... a nuisance, aren’t I?” He blinked. “There’s... two Fenrises.” He swayed.

“You’re not a nuisance...you are very, very drunk right now. Did you even have dinner?” Fenris asked as he braced his arm to keep Hal upright. “I’m going to pick you up and putting you in the tub. Maybe a cool bath will help wake you up a bit.”

“I think I ate,” said Hal groggily. “But there was wine too.” He frowned, trying to concentrate. “Maybe quite a lot of wine.” He let out a faint whimper as Fenris hefted him up in his arms then carried him into the bathroom.

The elf set him down on a stool in the bathroom as he began to fill the tub. After a moment, Fenris glanced around and, realised the young mage was very quietly crying again.

“Hal?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” blurted out Hal as he scrubbed at his face and tried to wipe away the tears with his hands. “I’m being such a nuisance and you’re having to look after me and I’m jus’... I’m a _mess_ and I’m broken and stupid and _sorry_....”

“Hey those are my lines, you can’t steal my job like that Hal.” Fenris said with a sad smile. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, I’ll change the sheets and we can finally go to sleep ok?”

“OK,” Hal sniffed. He got to his feet somewhat unsteadily and stood there swaying for a moment before he took a step and promptly keeled over.

“Hal!” Fenris yelped as he barely caught the red head. “You...ok no bath, You’re going to stay right there and I’ll clean you up enough for us to sleep. I don’t want to risk drowning you.” the elf’s heart was almost in his throat as he sat the young man up and held him there. “Or I’ll just put you to bed.”

“Hmmm,” Hal hummed agreement drowsily, his eyes drifting open. “Sorry... m’legs don’ wanna work....” He rested his head against Fenris’ shoulder and sighed as he closed his eyes again. “Sleepy now.”

Fenris picked him up and sat him in a chair that Vic had left. He quickly turned over the bed and got Hal settled on his side, too worried about him choking if he put him on his stomach or back. He pulled the cover over and finally sank into the chair with a sigh. Hal had passed out completely between the bathroom and being set in the chair; he was a dead weight as Fenris moved him around and didn’t stir at all once tucked into bed. 

“Mythal… what do I do?” Fenris asked as he watched Hal for a long time, and wondered what else he could do for the young man. There was no answer from the sleeping mage; he lay as if dead, only the slight stirring of his chest as he breathed betraying life.

Fenris got cleaned up and left the room, he needed to think and he knew Hal would sleep for hours, if not well into the next day. He wandered around the Keep, glad it was quiet for once.

Meneris was barely listening to Dorian’s plea to return to bed and let them alone until morning. “What if Hal is in some kind of crisis that Fenris can’t handle?”

“Then I would trust he’d have the sense to call for help, amatus!” Dorian exclaimed as he hurried to keep pace with the elf. “We _do_ have messengers stationed in all the halls, after all! Doubtless he could teleport both himself and Hal in a pinch....” His voice tailed off as they turned a corner and spotted the white-haired warrior walking slowly towards them, evidently deep in thought.

Fenris didn’t notice or hear them until he had nearly run into the two men. “Apologies, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

Dorian stared at him. The elf didn’t seem to be behaving like someone whose erstwhile lover had expressed a wish to be made Tranquil. He couldn’t imagine Meneris appearing so unconcerned and ambling around the halls if it were he in that state. 

“Amicus....” Dorian exchanged a glance with Meneris, who seemed just as disturbed. He glanced back at Fenris. “Fenris. Where is Hal?”

“Sound asleep, more like passed out in my bed. I was too unsettled to sleep, I didn’t want to just watch him, that’s creepy.” Fenris said quietly, his gaze on the ground.

“What happened? Cole came to us when you told him to go.” Meneris asked.

That made Fenris looked up at the mention of the spirit with a glare. “That demon needs to mind its business.”

“A fellow mage actually wanting to be made Tranquil?” said Dorian quietly as he glanced to Meneris again briefly. “Forgive me, amicus, but that? Would be _our_ business, and it was right for Cole to bring his concerns to us. Hal is a valued friend and colleague, and it would be very remiss of us to ignore his distress.”

“That thing is a demon, he needs to be sent back to the Fade.” Fenris snarled.  
“Your dislike of Cole aside, what happened?” Meneris asked.

“Can we not talk in the middle of the Keep? Is there somewhere we can talk, privately? Unless you want to see Hal for yourself?” Fenris replied.

“If we may?” nodded Dorian.

“Fine.” Fenris turned and led them back to his room, opening the door quietly as he could in the off chance Hal had awakened with his departure. He sat at his desk with his gaze down as he was unable to hide his hurt at them not believing him. 

He was up out of his chair in an instant as the unmistakable sound of Hal choking suddenly disturbed the quiet of the room. 

“Meneris, pass me that bucket will you?” murmured Dorian as he slipped an arm around the unconscious young man’s shoulders; as the elf passed it to his husband swiftly, the altus tugged Hal over until his head hung over the bucket, brushing back the long red hair with his free hand as the unconscious man retched. “Fortunate we came back with you instead of going elsewhere,” remarked Dorian. 

That made Fenris feel even worse, he’d thought Hal was out for the duration and not able to throw up anymore. 

“Love...maybe just help Hal out first?” Meneris said quietly. He got a towel to clean off the younger man’s face before they let him lie back. Dorian carefully settled Hal on his side again, then peeled back an eyelid and frowned as he stared at the shiver of white of Hal’s eye.

“Fenris, how much has Hal had to drink?” he asked as he checked Hal’s pulse. “I know he put away at least three glasses of wine over dinner but that wouldn’t account for this state.” He shook his head as he straightened. “Maker, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in this state before.”

“Vic brought whiskey, he had a lot of it.” Fenris replied tersely as he debated whether flying off in the dead of night would be a bad idea.

“And he’s not used to drinking whiskey,” nodded Dorian. He glanced at Meneris. “Love, I’m willing to sit here and watch over Hal whilst you two talk,” he suggested. “Or... well.” he glanced back down at Hal and pondered. “There is... something I may be able to do. There’s a little trick I developed - it came in useful sometimes when Felix had overindulged. I can cause the alcohol to break down and purge it from his body.” He grimaced. “It won’t be pleasant for him, but at least he’ll be able to regret it afterwards instead of possibly choking in his sleep.”

“Go on, I’d rather that than worry about having to sit vigil with him until sun up.”

Fenris got up and emptied the bucket without a word, he felt even more on edge with them in the room and knowing that Hal could have choked in his sleep while he wandered off to sulk had made him feel even lower.

“A hand then?” asked Dorian. “I’ll need someone to hold back his hair; I’ll need both hands, and this isn’t going to be pretty.”

It wasn’t pretty; it was messy, noisy, and took far too long for Fenris’ peace of mind. By the time Dorian had finished, Hal was a limp, moaning mess in the altus’ arms. He opened his mismatched eyes and stared around blearily.

“I think he needs a bath after all that. and I need to open a window.” Meneris said as he glanced at Fenris pointedly.

The elven fighter went to start a bath, his mood grew more somber as he watched the tub fill, and he didn’t think he could speak without snapping at them. He picked Hal up and gently put him in the tub, silent as he washed the young man off.

Hal spoke only once, to whisper a soft “I’m sorry,” before falling silent again.

“Don’t apologize.” Fenris said just as quietly as he bathed the young mage. Once he was done, he helped Hal up and dried him off. The young man stumbled slightly as he stepped from the tub then clutched at his head with a low groan; he was otherwise silent as Fenris helped him into a bathing robe before they made their way back into the bedroom, where Dorian and Meneris waited.

Hal made his way to a chair and sat down gingerly before he leaned over to clutch his head in his hands with a very faint whimper.

Fenris changed the bedding again, before he sat down against the headboard and pointedly ignored Meneris and Dorian.

“Hal, can you heal yourself at all or do you need to sleep it off?” Meneris asked quietly.

“It’s just a hangover,” the young man answered, gritting his teeth against the insistent throbbing in his skull. “I am never, _ever_ drinking ever again, I swear it.”

“Meneris has heard me say much the same thing on more than one occasion,” Dorian mused. “He’s usually good enough to not mention it on the next occasion I find myself regretting it.” He gave his husband a fond glance.

“Now that you’ve seen him for yourself, you can go.” Fenris finally said in a low voice. 

Dorian drew a breath as he stared at Fenris, then turned to Hal. “Hal, Cole came to speak to Meneris and I.”

Hal went still as he closed his eyes. After a moment, he sighed. “What he told you was the truth,” he answered softly. “And there is nothing I can add to what he must have said. He pulled the thoughts out of my head.”

“So you take the word of a demon so seriously then?” Fenris asked angrily.

“Fenris, stop it.” Meneris requested. “We’re trying to help.”

Dorian had crouched down in front of Hal and was staring at him intently. “Hal, listen to me,” he said softly. “You’ve been Tranquil. You know what awaits you. And it’s not like it would be exactly easy to make you _un_ Tranquil again. It’s little better than a living death and you, of all people, should know what that will be like. This... Hal, what you’re feeling right now - it’s not permanent. It will pass. It hurts right now, but it won’t last forever. But death, or Tranquility... Hal, _think_ about what you’re asking. Never to dream, or feel happiness again. Never to feel the magic running through you. Never to be able to heal.”

Hal opened his eyes slowly and stared at the other mage silently.

Fenris glowered at Meneris before he went back to his desk and fidgeted with the various implements on his desk. 

The Inquisitor sighed and went to the other elf. “Fenris, what’s wrong now? Is this because we asked to check on Hal or anger at yourself for realizing he could have choked?” 

Behind them they could hear Dorian’s voice, low, concerned. “Hal. Is this truly what you want?”

The room was silent. Fenris found himself holding his breath as he waited for Hal to answer.

Hal’s voice was quiet; it shook as he finally answered, “No. No, I... I don’t want that.”

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to talk about this right now. Just get out now that you’ve seen him for yourself.” Fenris repeated. 

Hal had begun to cry again, very softly; Dorian glanced up at Meneris, alarmed, as he rested a hand on Hal’s shoulder. The altus shook his head at Meneris; clearly he didn’t feel it was a good idea to leave the two men like this.

“Fine, you two can sit here with him--” Fenris stopped talking when Meneris slapped him across the face.

“Mythal, stop being such a damned child. We came to check on Hal because we were concerned for him. You’re acting like we barged in, unwanted and unneeded. He’s distraught and right now I wouldn’t trust you alone with yourself, let alone Hal in this state.” Meneris glared at the other elf, and struggled not to smirk at the gobsmacked expression on the warrior’s face. 

Hal was brokenly apologising; they could hear Dorian quietly yet firmly telling him to stop, neither elf glancing round as they stared at each other, the one taller than the other - though at that moment, as Meneris glared down at Fenris in his chair, his hand still raised, the white-haired warrior had somehow never felt smaller. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that it wouldn’t have made much difference if he’d been standing; a few inches in height would have only made the humiliation worse, perhaps.

Fenris blinked a few times, his hand raised to touch where Meneris had hit him. He couldn’t believe that the other elf had actually struck him. 

Hal had fallen silent save for occasional hiccuping breaths as he and Dorian watched the two elves apprehensively. Hal nervously played with a lock of hair as his eyes flickered from Fenris to the Inquisitor back. He opened his mouth but found himself silenced by Dorian’s finger as the altus leaned in.

“Not a word,” the Tevinter mage warned him very quietly, his mouth close to Hal’s ear. “I’ve seen Meneris in this mood only very rarely, and it’s best to keep silent, trust me.”

“Now Fenris, you are going to either listen to me and learn or we’re going to have a problem.” Meneris said as he lowered his hand and glared at the warrior. “We came here to check on Hal because...well because we care about both of you. Knowing he wanted to be Tranquil or worse dead was pretty alarming. You need to learn that you can’t be the sole person who cares, or worries. Anyone talking about wanting to be dead, under my protection in this Keep makes it _my_ problem. You need to let others in, and you need to stop lashing out like a damned cornered animal when you get hurt.” 

Fenris’ jaw worked silently as he fingered his slowly-reddening cheek. His eyes still held a stunned look as he stared at the Inquisitor. His eyes darted to Hal, and he felt a stab of guilt as he recognised the look of fear in the young mage’s eyes. Hal evidently expected him to do exactly what Meneris accused him of - lash out in rage and anger and the other elf. 

That, more than anything else, was enough to douse any remaining flicker of anger he may have felt. Fenris stared at Hal, and shook his head in mute apology, his eyes softening, before he turned back to the other elf, still fingering the bruise slowly blossoming upon his cheek.

Fenris looked down, unable to face the other elf as he spoke. “Apologies Inquisitor, you are welcome to stay as long as you and Dorian feel is necessary. I will not speak again.” 

Dorian exhaled; he hadn’t realised until that moment that he’d been holding his breath, expecting to have to step in at any moment to try and stop Fenris killing his husband. From the way Hal sagged in his chair, evidently he had fully expected there to be bloodshed as well. Dorian shifted to brace Hal with a hand, glancing at the young man in concern.

Meneris raised an eyebrow at the way Fenris had crumbled, and his defeated tone. “All of that isn’t called for. Just stop trying to kick us out.” 

Fenris grimaced and then frowned at the floor before glancing at Hal, who had closed his eyes as he slumped in his chair. “I... will try to keep my temper under better control,” he said slowly. “And now I have distressed Hal further.” He glanced up at Meneris. “I do not know how to help him,” he confided in a low voice. “It was my fault he was distressed to begin with. Everything I say and do seems only to make it worse.”

“Then maybe just let Dorian talk to him for a while, we’re not mages so we don’t understand some things no matter how much we might care.” Meneris glanced at the elf then back to the other men in the room. “How are you feeling now Hal?” 

“Exhausted,” said Hal as he opened his eyes. “Scared. I don’t know how to deal with this. These extremes of emotion, this....” He lifted a hand listlessly. “How do I live like this? How do I deal with -” he broke off and winced then lowered his head to his hands. “I’m sorry. My head is aching and this is all a horrible mess. And I’m sorry that you and Dorian are-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence young man, or I shall be most put out with you,” Dorian said sternly. “We are here because we care about you and we’re worried.”

Meneris gave him a soft smile before he joined Dorian. “Perhaps, you should get some actual sleep then?” 

Hal lifted his head to stare at them both. “You’re probably right,” he agreed. “I’m so tired I could just about fall asleep right here, if my head weren’t splitting.”

“Easily sorted,” shrugged Dorian as he glanced up at Fenris. “Amicus, would you happen to have an elfroot potion to hand?”

“In the nightstand, right side.” Fenris replied quietly.

Dorian nodded and rose to his feet to go fetch it. He brought it over to Hal, uncorking the flask before handing it to the other mage. Hal took it and downed it thankfully, not even grimacing at the taste. After a moment, he got slowly to his feet and made his way over to Fenris; he paused beside the elf’s chair, then leaned over and wrapped his arms around the warrior.

“I’m sorry for everything that’s happened,” he murmured quietly into Fenris’ ear. “Though not for what came before that. And I’m sorry to worry you so much.”

“Not your fault, I did this.” Fenris said quietly as he leaned into Hal’s embrace. 

Hal gently kissed Fenris’ bruised cheek. “Let me heal this?” he murmured.

“Leave it as a reminder for me not to be so damned stupid.” Fenris replied dully.

“I think we can leave them be, what say you love?” Meneris asked as he took Dorian’s hand. The mage nodded.

“Fenris, would you both come join us tomorrow for breakfast in our quarters?” asked Dorian.

“Aeolus wanted to see me before they leave, I’ll see how I feel afterwards.” Fenris replied without looking up at them. It was the last thing he wanted to do but he didn’t want Meneris to hit him again. 

“Quite understand, amicus,” nodded Dorian. “Hal, sleep well. I think perhaps you and I should speak to Anders when he has awakened and is recovered tomorrow at some point.”

“If you think that’s for the best,” nodded Hal. “Inquisitor,” he added, with a slight bow.

“No need for formality Hal, just take care of yourself alright?” Meneris gave him a grin before he took one last look at Fenris and pulled Dorian with him. “Both of you take care of yourselves.” 

Hal watched as the door closed behind them, then turned back to Fenris, feeling a sense of relief now that they were alone. He sat down upon Fenris’ lap and slipped his arms around the elf’s neck then curled up against him.

The elven warrior wrapped his arm around the red-head and sighed. “You should get some sleep, you have to be tired after all of that.” Fenris said tiredly. He was exhausted but too wound up to rest. 

“Shattered,” Hal nodded. “Come to bed with me?” He lifted his head to look up at Fenris hopefully.

“If you want, sure.” the elf said as he waited for Hal to get off him and crawl into bed first. Hal rose to his feet then stumbled tiredly over to the bed, slowly stripping off the bathrobe before crawling between the covers. He rolled over onto his back and watched Fenris as the elf rose and began to undress.

Fenris got under the covers and stretched out flat on his back, his gaze on the ceiling as he thought over the night’s happenings. He wanted to crawl in to a hole and not come out for a few days, but he knew none of them would let him do that. He decided to speak to his spouses and Hal come the next day but for the moment he was content to let his mind wander.

After a moment, Hal rolled over onto his side then snuggled up against Fenris, resting his head upon Fenris’ chest, his eyes heavy. He slowly curled about the elf; Fenris felt the mage’s body slowly grow heavy, his limbs relaxing into limpness as his breathing evened out and deepened into sleep.

The elven warrior left his arm around Hal but sleep didn’t come for him, even by the time Vic had come to wake him. He’d barely wriggled free of Hal’s grip by the time the door opened. 

“Hey, you still up for...what happened to your face?” Vic asked quietly. 

Hal made a faint noise as he shifted slightly in his sleep before growing still. Fenris darted the sleeping mage a look before shaking his head at Invictus with a faint scowl. He slipped from the bed and padded on silent feet over to the chair where he’d laid his clothes.

Invictus waited until the elf was dressed, had left a note for Hal and they were on their way to the Great Hall before he asked again. “So, who do I need to beat for striking you?” 

“No-one,” replied the elf tersely. “I... earned this. Call it a salutary lesson, one I should have taken to heart long before last night.”

“Fine, I’ll just ask Hal later.” Vic said tersely as he noticed how wound up his husband seemed. “Did you even sleep?”

Fenris came to a halt at Invictus’ words. “No,” he answered, then glanced away. After a moment in which he visibly appeared to wrestle inwardly with something, he slowly turned back to his husband. “It was... the Inquisitor,” he finally admitted reluctantly.

“I’ll speak with him later, if you won’t. I will not stand for anyone to put their hands on you love. Even him.” Vic said as they entered the hall, his expression shifted to a tense smile as he spotted Isabela, Aeolus and Varric. 

“You will not,” said Fenris in a low growl. “He did it to bring me to my senses.” He glanced away. “It is well that someone finally did, and perhaps it was the only way that would have gotten through to me in the mood I was in. You should perhaps thank him for that.”

“Fine...as you wish Fenris. Do you want to see your brother off by yourself or may I stick around?” Vic asked.

“You may stay,” replied Fenris, his voice softening as he finally glanced at Invictus and added quietly, “Please.”

“As you wish love.” Vic said as he slipped his hand into his husband’s as they approached the group getting ready to go. “Morning.”

“Hawke! Messeres Hawke and Hawke, I should say,” beamed Varric. “Blondie not with you?”

“Which one?” Isabela quipped. “After the state Arden was in, I’m not surprised he hasn’t shown up, and Anders was practically asleep on his feet last night.”

“Ah well,” shrugged the dwarf. “So, come to see us off then?”

“You are leaving with Isabela?” frowned Fenris.

“Afraid so, Broody,” shrugged Varric. “I’ll be taking ship with Isabela. She and I have business in Kirkwall and her ship has a spare berth with Arden staying here. It’ll be almost like old times.”

“Well I’m sure you all will have a good trip back.” Vic said as he settled in and thanked the servant who slid a plate in front of him before he was fully in his chair.

Fenris had gone to his sibling and was speaking with him, including a promise to visit sooner than later. 

Varric glanced over at the two elves as he shrugged. “Boats aren’t exactly my favourite way of getting around, but beats walking.” He glanced at Invictus, narrowing his eye shrewdly. “You keep a close eye on Blondie, Hawke - _both_ of them. I have the feeling Arden might just take it into his head to do something regrettably heroic and foolish as his memories come back - just a hunch. And Anders... well, I think you know as well as I do that when he feels trapped is when he’s most likely to do something equally regrettable - that’s either going to blow up in all our faces, or just simply means him running as far and as fast away from it as he possibly can, and I have the feeling that this time he’s going to go for the latter. Maybe the Inquisitor should start looking for a new Grand Enchanter sooner rather than later, if you catch my drift?”

“I beg pardon but what exactly are you suggesting Varric?!”

“All I’m saying, Hawke, is that Blondie is a lot less calm about this whole Enchanter business than he appears,” said Varric as he shook his head. “I don’t think anyone else has realised yet - I only picked up on it because I’ve known Blondie since before you have, in some ways. But sooner or later he’s going to make a break for it if you don’t step in and have a word.”

“You think he’d leave us after getting married and all of this?” Vic asked. 

“I’m saying that when Blondie panics, he has a past track record of making bad decisions,” shrugged the dwarf. “And I think he’s getting close to the point where he might just start getting antsy is all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind thanks.” Vic replied quietly.

The two elven brothers had hugged each other briefly, and Aeolus and Isabela were now looking towards Varric expectantly. “Ah, looks like my carriage awaits,” remarked the dwarf. “Drop by next time you find yourself near Kirkwall, Hawke!”

“I think Aveline will kick my ass back here if I show my face in the city.” Hawke replied.

“Not if you’re there at the express invitation of the Viscount himself,” smiled Varric. “Take care, Hawke.”

“I’ll keep it mind, now go on before you get left behind.” Vic said.

Fenris had come up next to him and waved them all off. “I think I’m going to finally get some sleep, see you later?”

Varric had stepped over to join Isabela and Aeolus; with a last wave, the tattooed elf wrapped one arm around the Rivaini pirate as he laid his other hand on Varric’s shoulder, and then with a brilliant flash of light they were all gone.

Anders was stumbling slowly into the hall, rubbing his eyes blearily with one hand as Fenris and Invictus turned towards them. “Did I miss them?” he asked, disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry love” Fenris said quietly as he pressed a kiss to the mage’s cheek and turned to go with a yawn.

“Did no-one sleep last night?” frowned Anders tiredly as he glanced at Invictus. “Please tell me at least _one_ of us slept last night.” As Invictus glanced back at him, he realised there were dark circles beneath the blond enchanter’s eyes.

“I did yeah, not well. Unlike some people around here.” Vic said tiredly.

“Don’t look at me,” Anders shook his head. “Zevran had to wake me from nightmares three times. And I woke myself screaming the fourth time.” He shuddered.

“You need a nap, Void I need a nap after hearing that.” Fenris said. “I’ll catch both of you later, I can’t keep my eyes open.” the elf went back to his room and flopped face first on the bed, and didn’t move when Hal rolled over and snuggled with him again.

“Love you,” murmured Hal, not opening his eyes as he buried his face in Fenris’ hair. He gave a little sigh before slipping deeper into sleep once more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go downhill after an almost pleasant afternoon.

Anders drifted slowly awake to the sensation of fingers slowly trailing down his spine. He gave a little groan as they stroked up towards the nape of his neck then dragged down again, fingernails scraping slightly against his skin. He smiled sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“You can do that to me all you like,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, shifting his head slightly to nuzzle the pillow.

“Nice to know you enjoy being woken like this love.” Vic whispered in his ear. Anders gave a little shiver beneath the other mage, his breath catching in his throat.

“Maker, yes,” he agreed. “Do it again? A little harder?” 

“Sure you aren’t part cat, after all Fen is part dragon.” Vic laughed as he did as he was asked, sure to dig his nails in just hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break skin. “Should I get a feather and put it on a string?” 

Anders gasped softly then bit his lip before groaning. “Not...going to dignify that with an answer,” he finally managed. “But if you do that again I can’t promise I won’t purr.”

“I’d settle for moaning my name while I shag you now that you’re awake.” Vic said as he repeated the hard press of his nails from Anders’ neck down to the dip right above his ass. Anders whimpered as he arched his spine up into Invictus’ touch.

“Vic...” he breathed; he writhed slowly beneath his husband, slowly rutting into the sheet below him. “Maker, after yesterday morning....” 

“Not in the mood? Need something to eat first? If you’re tired I can wait love, just can’t help myself around you. Being here has been very, very good for you.” Vic finished as he ran his nails over Anders’ ass. Anders whined faintly as he squirmed beneath Invictus’ nails.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” the blond mage panted. “Which is not a no, before you ask!”

“Oh, then what is it?” Vic asked as he continued to trace a pattern over his husband’s backside with a wicked grin. “Is it a later, once I’m awake or a fuck me now because you’ve wound me up?”

Anders lifted his hips up a little as he squirmed. “It’s a - a - fuck, _Vic_ ,” he whimpered. “Please....”

“Since you asked nicely, turn over and I’ll take care of you.” Vic waited until Anders was on his back for all of a minute before he leaned over to take the blond in his mouth, and sucked hard, and fast. 

Anders threw his head back and cried out, his hands curling into the bedsheet as he fought hard not to start fucking straight into Invictus’ mouth. He tried to call Invictus’ name, but all that escaped his throat was a high-pitched keen. He closed his eyes as Invictus encouraged him with a hum that vibrated right down to the base of Anders’ cock. The blond mage lost all self-control and began mindlessly thrusting up into that inviting wet heat of the other man’s mouth.

Vic would have smiled, but instead he relaxed so Anders could fuck his mouth hard and fast until he came. He reached out until he felt the other man’s hand and laced his fingers with his spouse’s as he let himself get used for Anders’ pleasure. His only warning was the pressure of Anders’ long fingers tightening on his before Anders came with a shout.

The blond mage went slowly limp beneath Invictus, panting raggedly; he whimpered as Invictus milked the last of his spend from him, shivering.

Vic sat up, licking his lips and looking utterly pleased with himself. “Nice way to wake up?”

Anders could only answer with another whimper. His legs were shaking and he couldn’t trust himself to speak. 

“Love? I’m getting worried, you ok?” Vic crawled over to him and pulled Anders into his arms, then bundled them up in blankets. 

“Yes... just... Maker,” Anders panted as he curled into Invictus’ arms. “That was all rather fast and... Maker,” he repeated again. “Maybe breakfast first would have been a good idea after all....”

“Want me to bring you something? It’s probably closer to lunch time to be honest.” Vic pressed kisses to Anders face and lips, worried for how the other man still shook.

Anders nodded. “Please,” he murmured. “I should have eaten earlier; I was just so tired though.”

“Alright, let me get something hearty sent up.” Vic caught a servant and placed a hefty order for both of them, including some spiced cider and a couple vials of lyrium to be sent from the infirmary. He lit the fireplace and made sure Anders was warm, comfortable and relaxed as he waited for their food.

Anders found himself starting to drift off as they waited, drowsily nuzzling into the blankets. 

Vic got their meal set up on the table, and reluctantly pulled Anders up and tried to steer him to sit. “Come on, it’s too much to eat in bed. I got that stew you like and a couple mugs of spiced cider and lyrium if you need it.”

Anders let himself be tugged over to the table and sat, stifling a yawn with a hand. “Sorry... was warm and comfy.” He blinked at the lyrium. “Huh... yes, probably a good idea if I’m to be doing any healing this afternoon,” he conceded. “I think I was pretty much tapped out by the time I fell asleep, but I didn’t sleep enough last night. I don’t think I’m entirely recharged, even with that nap. Hopefully there’ll be nothing too demanding today. Three twin births in one day is... pretty unusual.”

“Just take it easy today love, we all had a rough night. I’m willing to bet Fenris is still asleep.” Vic mentioned before he dug into his meal. 

Anders glanced up from his own plate, surprised. “Oh? Did something happen last night?”

Vic cussed himself before he took a long sip of his cider then looked to his husband. “Apparently.... Fenris had a hard talk with Hal and it went badly. Hal was so upset, he’d wished to be Tranquil again, or worse ...dead. Cole came because of how much he was hurting and it went well as could be expected. We got Hal settled and asleep, but Fenris didn’t sleep, somewhere along the way Meneris hit him.” 

As Invictus spoke, Anders went still, his eyes slowly widening. At the word “Tranquil” the blood drained from his face and he dropped his fork. By the time Invictus got as far as Fenris not sleeping, he was lurching to his feet and crossing to the wardrobe, hastily scrabbling for a robe and tugging it on, grabbing the first sash belt that came to hand as he stumbled towards the door, face still white, his gaze distant and almost glazed as he reached for the door, heedless of the fact he were still barefoot, his hair dishevelled from sleep.

“Anders, come back here please.” Vic said gently as he rose to get his husband back down. “Things were settled last night, Dorian spoke with him. I saw him earlier and he assured me that Hal was fine when he and Meneris left them. Eat your food and then we can go check on Hal and Fenris, alright?” 

“No...no, I can’t, this is... Hal, I, I have to... have to....” He clutched at his hair, swallowing hard as he blinked. “Bad, this is very bad. Maker, what did Fenris _say?_ ” He stared at the door wild-eyed, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead over the faded silvery scar.

“I’m not entirely sure, but there was mention of the other Fenris, worry Hal had never grieved for him, and concern that he was doing a disservice to Hal with not being fully with him while he was still healing from all that had happened. Seems like he tried to have an adult conversation and it went to shit.” Vic shrugged and tried to get Anders to sit back down. 

The blond mage gave up trying to half-heartedly fight against Invictus, allowing him to guide Anders to a seat. He dropped into it, still looking a little stunned. “He was Tranquil once. Maker, why would he want that again?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know love but if you go dashing off to confront him and Fenris when you aren’t fed or fully rested, or even dressed you’ll make it worse. Let’s at least get you something to eat and first thing we’ll do is check on Hal, ok?” Vic pushed the plate back to his husband and made eating motions.

Anders nodded dazedly and began to eat mechanically, his eyes not seeing the plate.

Once he’d made sure Anders had eaten most of what was on his plate, Vic got him clothes and boots so they could go check on Fenris and Hal. “When you’re ready love.”

The pinched, pained look had slowly left Anders’ face as he ate, the mage slowly relaxing as the edge of his Warden’s appetite was blunted. His eyes no longer held the same wild look they had before, and when he glanced up at Invictus his eyes focused on his husband instead of seeming to stare through him. He nodded and dressed properly before lacing on his boots. He stood and wrapped his arms around Invictus as he rested his head against the other man’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, love,” he said softly. “I’m ready now.”

Vic kissed him on the cheek and gave him a gentle squeeze in return. “Come on, let’s settle your mind eh?” 

Anders nodded, and managed a slight smile, though his eyes still held a worried look.

They arrived at Fenris’ rooms to find the elf pouring himself a coffee from the fresh pot upon the tray; Hal was still in bed, curled up in a ball until only a wild mess of crimson hair was visible above the blankets.

The elf glanced up at them before he waved at the pot and took a seat. He had gotten some sleep but he was still not in a chatty mood. He brushed his hair over his face in an attempt to keep Anders from seeing the bruise, though Vic had probably told him about it.

Anders glanced at him, noting how the elf turned his face away and fiddled with his hair. He frowned slightly as he moved towards Fenris; he lifted a hand as though to brush the white hair out of the warrior’s face but halted, his hand a few inches from the snowy white hair before he let it drop.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

Fenris moved away and refused to meet Anders’ gaze. “Nothing more than I deserved in the moment.” he said quietly.

“Vic told me Hal said... said he wanted to be Tranquil,” Anders said, his voice quietening further, his eyes troubled. “Why?”

“Did he not fully explain, must I rehash last night?” Fenris asked peevishly before he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m still tired, I’m sorry, I was hoping to get more sleep but I couldn’t.” 

“I explained what I could but I’m not sure exactly what set Hal off so badly. I can’t explain what I don’t know Fenris.” Vic said softly.

Anders glanced over at the bed, frowning, then back at Fenris. “Love... whatever it was... I can see it’s hard for you to speak of, but it was enough to make Hal wish for Tranquility. Any other mage would sooner wish for death first, myself included. I’d rather not put Hal through the trauma of telling me himself.”

Fenris grumbled under his breath about wanting a few hours to himself but relented and told Anders all of it, including Meneris striking him. After he was done he put his head down and wished he’d kept his damned mouth shut for the last day and a half. 

Anders had remained silent as Fenris spoke; he lifted a hand and pressed it over his mouth, glancing away. His eyes glimmered suspiciously bright as Fenris described Hal wishing for Tranquility; as he spoke of Dorian talking the young mage down, he closed his eyes. When Fenris was done, Anders turned and walked away a short distance, his head bowed in thought.

While Fenris had recounted his terrible night, Invictus had gone to sit by the bed and noticed a subtle movement among the mass of red hair. He leaned back and waited to see if Hal would stop pretending to sleep soon. As Fenris’ voice fell silent, the blankets shifted slightly, and then Hal lifted his head slightly, glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes red-rimmed though dry. His gaze went first to Fenris, then to Anders before finally turning to Invictus before lowering to stare at the down comforter.

“Afternoon, how’s your head feeling?” Vic asked quietly as he reached over and got an elfroot potion for the young man. “I’ll get you replacements later.” 

“I can get them myself.” Fenris muttered. 

Hal had winced as Invictus spoke; he dropped his head into his hands with a low, piteous moan.

“That good huh? Well let’s get you a potion and then see what if anything you can keep down. I probably think Fenris wants us out of his hair for a while if the glare he gave me is any indication.” Vic said softly.

Anders had turned to glance over at the quiet sound of Invictus’ voice; he glanced at Hal, then made his way over to the bed. He reached out and gently pressed the palm of his hand against the scar across Hal’s forehead without a word; the young mage closed his eyes and sighed silently as the wash of healing magic flowed through him.

“We should talk when you are ready,” Anders said quietly. He glanced back at Fenris, then bowed his head and walked towards the door.

“Care to come with us, or are you going to stay here for a while?” Vic asked quietly. Hal glanced down at himself, then up at Invictus uncertainly.

“Would you... pass me my robe please?” he whispered, his cheeks turning crimson behind the dishevelled red hair that fell in his face.

Invictus handed him a robe and turned his back so Hal could get dressed quickly. He glanced at Fenris who hadn’t moved from where he rested his head on his forearms. 

Hal tugged the robe on swiftly, not bothering with the outer robe or sash as he slipped his feet into his slippers. He glanced at Fenris; as the elf failed to look up, Hal’s expression fell. “I’m ready,” he murmured.

Fenris sat up when he heard Hal’s voice. “A moment please, Hal?” 

Hal instantly dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at Fenris as his fingers twisted in the fabric of his robes.

Vic let them be by stepping just outside the door. Once his husband was gone, Fenris dropped to his knees before the red headed mage. “Are you alright, truly to go? If you want to stay for a while I’m fine with that. If you want to go...know I am not upset with you, alright?” 

“You’re... you’re not?” Hal asked, his voice hushed. “You... you want me to go?”

“I don’t know.” Fenris said honestly as he looked down. “I’m exhausted, irritable and I just want to sleep until tomorrow. I’m still bothered ...by a lot of things and would like time to think on them, it’s probably best if I do that alone. But I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you to go either. I’m a bit of a mess today, forgive me Hal.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Hal reflexively. He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I... I should go, I’m a mess, my clothes are....” He grimaced.

“Give me a day or two to get myself in a better place and we can talk more? I want things to be ok with us.” Fenris said as he rose and sat next to the young man. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, please forgive me.”

Hal leaned in against him then turned and hugged Fenris, his face hidden in his hair as he bowed his head. “Of course,” he said quietly. “Come find me when you’re ready.”

Fenris hugged him back for a long time before he let Hal go. “Thanks, for staying.” 

Hal gave him a small, sad smile. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Fenris’ cheek, careful to avoid the bruise. “What you said last night... thank you,” he said softly. “You said what I needed to hear, even if it hurt to hear it.”

He rose silently to his feet and hurried away. Fenris waited until the door shut before he crawled back under the covers, and finally let himself have the emotional break he’d been holding in since the previous night.

Hal jumped as he pulled the door closed behind him and Invictus quietly asked if he was alright; the young mage leaned against the door, pressing a hand to his chest, his heart racing.

“Maker, I had no idea you were there,” he gulped.

“Get your heart out of your throat, and let’s get you cleaned up, changed and fed.” Vic said as he held a hand out to steady the young man.

“I’m sorry, I was... lost in thought,” said Hal. He put a hand to his forehead and winced. “Maker, I feel like - what’s the phrase Varric uses? Nug shit?”

“That’s probably being kind, also bronto shit is worse” Vic assured him before he looped an arm around the young mage and started to lead them toward Hal’s room.

“Would you believe I actually feel better now than I did last night when Dorian did - whatever it was he did to me?” said Hal as they headed upstairs. “Maker, why did I agree to being put up over Dorian’s room?” he added with a groan, staring up at the stairs in dismay. “Maybe I could have Solas’ old room instead....”

“Why do you want to move?” Vic asked as they walked. 

Hal ducked his head and blushed. “I’m not really serious,” he admitted. “I just ache all over, that’s all. Maker, I am never, _ever_ drinking whiskey ever again. Though,” he added in a thoughtful tone, “I guess it would be nice being a little closer to Fenris. But no, I’m happy with my own room, honest. I just wish it weren’t up three flights of steps right now.”

“Put in a requisition to move then, it’ll be better for you probably to be around books and not have to climb so far after working in the infirmary for hours.” Vic said as they approached the door.

Hal nodded. “You have a point,” he agreed as he opened his door, and promptly screamed as a very dead elf covered in blood tumbled out practically atop him.

Invictus jumped as fire came to his hands and he dropped into a ready stance. Once he noted the elf that had fallen out of Hal’s room was quite dead, he banked his power and nudged the other mage aside. “Maker, what in the Void is going on here?”

Hal was leaning against the wall of the hallway, staring at the dead elf and hyperventilating. The elf’s blood was spattered across Hal’s robes and soaking into the floor from the severed throat; the red-haired mage seemed unable to take his eyes off the flaxen blond hair that tumbled about the dead elf’s face.

“ _Venhedis_ , what is all this racket about - can’t a man read a book in -” Dorian’s voice trailed off as he reached the top of the stairs and he saw the bloodied body crumpled on the ground at their feet. He swallowed hard and turned a little pale. “Someone please tell me that isn’t Zevran,” he said quietly, his voice trembling only slightly.

“It is not Zevran,” said a familiar voice from the darkness of Hal’s room; as they all glanced up, none other than the spymaster himself appeared in the doorway, almost as bloodied as the corpse by Invictus’ feet. He leaned against the door frame, a curved blade still held in one hand as he brushed dishevelled, blood-soaked hair back out of his eyes, heedless of the smear of blood it left across one cheek. He lifted his golden eyes to meet Invictus’ gaze wearily. 

“Care to explain this?” Vic gestured at the corpse at their feet while he pulled Hal to him.

“He and his friends tried to kill me,” shrugged Zevran. “Obviously, they failed. Equally obviously, I did not.” He absently wiped the blood from his blade upon the thigh of his leggings, oblivious to the blood that was running down his arm. The Antivan smiled tiredly. “You perhaps do not wish to go inside, friend Hal. It is... not pretty.” He shifted to lean against the wall; his smile slipped as his eyes glazed over, then his head drooped and he began to slide sideways before Dorian caught him, the knife falling from Zevran’s suddenly limp fingers.

“Ok infirmary it is,” announced Invictus. He stepped forward and deftly swung Zevran up into his arms as the elf’s eyelids fluttered. “Dorian, help Hal back to my room so he can get cleaned up and something of mine should fit him. I’ll carry Zevran - and I swear to Maker if you argue with me I’ll drag Anders here myself so he can freak out about the blood and the state you’re in.” Vic added in his instructor voice, the one he used on unruly teens in his class, that he had carried from his mother.

Zevran made no attempt to argue; that in itself only made Invictus worry more. The elf was unusually quiet as he was carried to the infirmary, resting his head against Invictus’ shoulder.

“How bad is it? You didn’t fight me.” Vic said as he walked towards the infirmary, a grimace at the sticky feeling against his side.

“Bad enough,” confessed the elf softly. “There were four of them, and the room was small.”

“Once you’re patched up I’m going to take you to Anders’ room so you can rest up.” Vic said as he entered the infirmary and braced for the swearing and worry from their husband.

Anders glanced up as they entered, a smile upon his face which vanished to be replaced with an look of alarm as he took in the state of Zevran. He gestured at the bed nearest Invictus as he called to Parcival to take over, then hurried to join them. His hands were already glowing blue as he held them out towards Zevran.

“Call Meneris,” Anders instructed tersely. “Zevran, who were they? Crows?”

The Antivan was silent; Anders glanced at him then swore. Zevran’s eyes were closed, his skin ashen beneath his tan. “Zevran!”

Zevran’s golden eyes slowly opened. His hand was pressed against the wet, bloody stain below his ribs on his left side, his face drawn with pain. After a moment his eyes closed again as his hand fell limply away from the deep slash in his side.

“Zevran, no!” exclaimed Anders, his eyes widening in panic before he went momentarily stiff and then a golden glow suffused his eyes as his face smoothed over into a calm expression. He pressed his palm against the bloody wound and began healing.

Invictus started to bite his nails but realized his hands were covered in Zevran’s blood. “I’m going to get cleaned and get Fenris down here.” he muttered.

“ _That would be pertinent_ ,” replied Anders, a curiously hollow and distant tone to his voice. 

Vic scrubbed his hands clean and dashed to Fenris’ rooms, hopeful the elf was in a better mood than he’d left him in. 

He found Fenris absorbed in cleaning and polishing his sword, though the elf glanced up, one eyebrow raised as the mage burst in without knocking. At the sight of Invictus’ expression he set the cloth and sword oil aside and rose to his feet.

“What is wrong?” he asked quietly, a frown descending over his face. “Should I bring my sword?”

“Zevran is in the infirmary he was ambushed in Hal’s room apparently. He’s pretty bad off, he didn’t even argue with me when I carried him.” Vic said as he caught his breath.

Fenris swung the greatsword onto his back. “Are the assailants all dead? Do we know if there are more at large in the keep?” he asked as he gestured for Invictus to follow and he set off for the infirmary at a trot. “The Inquisitor has been informed, I trust?”

“Yes, he’ll likely be there by the time we return. Zevran said there were four of them, and talented he is, those are bad odds for close quarters. Come on, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.” Vic said as he omitted the fact the other elf was out for the count.

“Four?” said Fenris as he came to a halt. Before Invictus could reply, the elf had firmly grasped his wrist and then there was a sickening wrench, a sensation of lurching sideways as the world flashed silvery-white, and then they were in the infirmary, the mage staggering as Fenris released him to take his place swiftly at Anders’ side as the blond mage worked, the Inquisitor hurrying towards them.

Vic dropped to an empty cot as he tried to get the room to stop spinning; luckily someone slid a bucket to him before he threw up all over the cot and himself. Parcival darted him a concerned look before turning back to the patient Anders had abandoned for Zevran.

“What happened?” Fenris asked as he looked over Zevran, his anger taking the place of worry. 

“ _Zevran has been stabbed_ ,” Anders intoned hollowly, his voice sounding as though it was echoing slightly, curiously soft. “ _He has lost much blood. He shall live however._ ” The light pooling about the mage’s hands held a soft, golden look; it served only to emphasise how much blood had pooled beneath the still Antivan elf however as it reflected from the surface of the dark liquid.

“I know what stab wounds look like...spirit.” Fenris muttered as he watched Anders work. He took one of Zevran’s hands in his and closed his eyes in prayer to Mythal. Zevran’s hand felt cold in his.

Anders opened his eyes and turned his alien golden gaze upon the white-haired elf. “ _You cannot see with my eyes, elf_ ,” replied the spirit possessing Anders’ form. “ _Would you see for yourself how he appears to the eyes of a healing spirit?_ ”

“Only if it would be useful.” Fenris hedged. 

Anders’ hand was held out to him as the golden gaze regarded him with an almost thoughtful look for such alien eyes.

Fenris took Anders’ hand and waited for something to happen, he wasn’t feeling too good about the spirit but he trusted his husband.

He felt a tingling through his lyrium, and then as he glanced down at Zevran he exclaimed, startled. He was looking at the other elf with his eyes - and yet at the same time he was also somehow aware of Zevran on a deeper level - _inside_. It wasn’t quite seeing, and it wasn’t quite feeling, but somewhere between and yet beyond the two.

The first thing he noticed was that though the Antivan’s tawny skin seemed whole from the outside save for the wound in his side, inside was a different story. Scar tissue wound through the elf’s body; thousands of wounds and injuries sustained and healed over the years. Old injuries never entirely healed that niggled and ached; others that healed but still, scars marked where once they had been. A body hard-used, wearing the marks on the inside; a life hard-lived. It had not been kind to Zevran Arainai Hawke.

He was immediately aware of three other stab wounds besides the very obvious slash wound. A knife had penetrated Zevran’s left lung from behind; his assailant had sought his heart but Zevran must have twisted as the blade drove in. There was another stab wound a few inches below it. And there was the third one that penetrated through the elf’s shoulder; he could see with his mind’s eye how that enemy must have stood in front of Zevran, bringing the blade down in an overhead arc.

Zevran had lost a lot of blood - yet as Fenris found himself watching both from within and without, he could sense the blended magic of the spirit and Anders, intertwining with the mage’s own life force, healing Zevran from the inside out.

“Carissimi...they nearly took you from me.” he whispered. 

_From us both._ The thought was the merest whisper in the back of Fenris’ mind, unmistakably in Anders’ voice. The mage sounded almost terrified.

“Stop...stop!” Fenris said as he tried to free himself but couldn’t. He was held there as he watched Anders and Llyria work on Zevran to heal him. “Please...I won’t talk back to your spirit, please let me go.” he pleaded.

 _I can’t. Maker, I **can’t**!_ The thread of terror in Anders’ voice inside Fenris’ head was unmissable now. _I can’t, it’s not me doing this - Llyria, let me go, please! Let me come back!_

The golden gaze still held Fenris, but abruptly the mage’s hand released him as the possessed man turned back to Zevran, and Fenris could no longer hear Anders’ voice, cut off mid-scream in the back of the elf’s mind. Somehow that sudden silence was almost worst than hearing Anders’ terror, trapped within his own mind.

Fenris stumbled backward, his breathing harsh as he watched Anders warily. “Never...ever let her do that again.” he said.

Meneris was confused as well as concerned at the scene he’d walked in on. He noted how Fenris looked ready to run, and Anders seemed ready to fall down. 

“ _It is done_ ,” said the blond mage hollowly as his hands fell away from Zevran’s form; and then the golden light faded from Anders’ eyes to be briefly replaced by a look of sheer terror before Anders’ eyes fluttered closed and he slowly collapsed.

Invictus barely caught his husband, but not before he’d banged his own knees on the infirmary floor. “We’ve got to stop doing this love, my knees can’t take this very often.” Vic said as he struggled to get up and get Anders to a cot.

Zevran’s eyes remained closed, though there was colour again in the Antivan’s face and the terrible gash in his side had closed over, leaving a pink scar across his ribs as he lay in the pool of his own cooling blood.

Anders whimpered very faintly as Invictus laid him down, his eyelids fluttering slightly. 

“I don’t know what happened but you gave me a fright.” Vic said softly as he got Anders stretched out on the cot.

Fenris stood there, staring at Zevran as if he wasn’t sure about him anymore. He was rattled from what Llyria had done to show him the other elf’s injuries and it showed.

“No, please, let me go, let me come back,” Anders moaned softly before his eyes slowly opened and he blinked up at Invictus, confused and disoriented.

“I’m not going anywhere, you’re fine love.” Vic said as he took Anders’ hands in his. He glanced over to see Fenris had slid to the floor and looked a bit queasy himself.

“Can someone explain what in the creators is going on here?” Meneris asked again.

“Fenris, where’s Fen?” begged Anders as he struggled to sit up. “Zevran - Maker, Zevran!” He stared around frantically, eyes wild as he looked for the two elves.

Fenris stared at Anders but didn’t rise to go to him, he hugged his knees and kept looking at Zevran instead. 

“Zevran is on the examination bed, and Fenris...seems to have gone, he’s not ok but I don’t know what happened when he took your hand.” Vic was confused as the others.

“So, my spymaster was jumped in the Keep, and whatever we just saw has Fenris curled up and looking as if he’s about to run; Anders seems confused as well. Hal...where in the Void is Hal?”

“She wouldn’t let us go,” whispered Anders as he clung to Invictus’ hands. “Maker, I am so, so sorry. Fenris... That should never have happened, it - love, Fen?” 

“Who wouldn’t let you go?” Vic asked as he tried to comfort Anders.

Fenris whimpered as he tried to back away from all of them and leave. What had happened was too much for him, and he needed to go.

Anders pulled away from Invictus and swung his legs to the ground as he glanced around for Fenris. Spotting the elf as he shrank away, he pushed himself to his feet then hurried towards Fenris.

“Love, I’m so, so sorry!” he exclaimed. “Please, that wasn’t supposed to happen - Maker, that was so much worse than anything Justice ever did to me, he - that shouldn’t have happened, she shouldn’t have dragged you in too!” As Fenris backed away, Anders’ eyes widened in horror. “Fen- please, no, don’t - don’t, it’s over, it’s me, see? It’s me, Anders! I’m not - it’s not _her_ any more! Please love!” He held his hands out toward Fenris pleadingly. 

“Love maybe you should give him a little space?” Vic cautioned but his advice came too late as Fenris scrambled to his feet and put as much space between him and Anders as they could.

“What happened, what could have him running scared from you like this?” Meneris asked as he looked to Invictus in confusion. The First Enchanter shrugged, he was just as confused as they were.

Anders stared around himself wildly, clutching at his hair. “It’s my fault,” he whispered. “Abomination. I’m a monster, it’s... it’s all happening again....”

“Healer!” exclaimed Parcival as he took a step towards the distraught mage.

“Keep away from me!” screamed Anders, bringing the other healer up short. “It’s not safe, don’t you see? None of you are safe! Just - just keep away!” He stared around at them all desperately, and then turned and fled.

“Maker save me… I’ll try and catch him, you stay here and talk to Zevran if he’s conscious.” Vic said before he took off after Anders, cussing how much stronger the other man got in a panic.

Meneris turned to see Fenris had backed himself into a corner and was staring at everyone while he tried to figure a way out. “Creators above...what happened?” 

Parcival was staring towards the door to the courtyard where Anders had fled, pursued by the First Enchanter. He glanced back to Fenris and the Inquisitor, then glanced at Zevran as the Antivan lay there, unconscious in the pool of blood, and appeared to come to a decision as he moved towards the motionless spymaster. 

Fenris moved across the infirmary slowly as he watched the other before he made it to the door and fled for his rooms. 

Anders had taken off hell for leather across the courtyard, making unerringly for the gates. He had a head start on Invictus, the slender healer fleet of foot and in a nearly blind panic, oblivious to the calls from other people as his flight was belatedly noticed. He never looked up as Cullen called out to him in surprise from the battlements.

Invictus was aware of the Commander however as Cullen began to sprint along the high wall towards the gate, matching Anders stride for stride in spite of his heavy armour.

“Anders!” Vic called out as he sped up so the mage wouldn’t get out of the courtyard. “I’m...out of shape...Maker.” he panted as he closed in on his fleeing spouse.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Cullen hurling himself off the wall into a wagon of hay that had just arrived, intended no doubt for the stables but handily breaking the fall of the armoured former templar who rolled out of the hay onto his feet and was running the moment his feet hit the ground, his eyes never leaving the panicked mage as Anders wove between startled people and threw himself onwards toward the gate.

It was only at the last moment that Anders finally became aware of Cullen’s pursuit, just as the Commander flung himself at the mage and they both went down in a tumbling, tangled mess of legs, cloak and robes, Anders giving a despairing scream.

Vic stuttered to a halt before he tumbled over them and wound up on the ground. “I need to do whatever it is you do because I can’t run that fast in just robes.” he panted.

“Maker, I am getting too old for this shit,” groaned Cullen as he threw his cloak back and sat up slowly. “Anders?” He glanced down and groaned. “Well, he’s out for the count; he’s not going anywhere for a while.” He bent over the unconscious mage and checked him over carefully before straightening as he glanced at Invictus. “So, why was he running this time?”

“I’m not one hundred percent certain. I think something weird happened with him and Fenris as he was healing Zevran. Fenris ran off too.” Vic huffed as he bent to pick Anders up. The blond mage was a dead weight, sprawled unconscious upon the ground, a nasty bruise steadily purpling across his left temple where Cullen’s armour perhaps had hit him.

“Careful - I think I may have hit him rather harder than I meant to,” said Cullen apologetically. “Let me carry him.” He got to his feet then reached to lift Anders gently. “Maker, I think that was my breastplate.” The Commander looked chagrinned. “Where to?”

“His rooms then I’ll let them know we caught him before he could run away.” Vic said. 

“Lead on,” said Cullen, nodding to him. “Probably a good idea to send for Hal; I think something may have cracked as he went down. Besides his head denting my armour, that is. Not that that would be the first time he’s tried to headbutt my armour mind you; used to be a fairly regular occurrence at one point. Had a knack for catching me just after I’d polished it, too. Was almost a joke really. Though I’d hoped at his age he’d outgrown this kind of thing.” Cullen suddenly became aware he was slightly rambling. “Um. I probably shouldn’t say any more than that; I doubt Anders wants me telling everyone about his time in the Circle any more than I would in his shoes and, er, right... I’ll just shut up now, shall I?” He coughed, and Invictus suddenly realised the former templar was actually blushing slightly.

“Probably not, I’m getting tired of chasing my spouses for Maker’s sake.” Vic mumbled as he followed Cullen inside.

The Commander made straight for Anders’ quarters then waited for Invictus to let them in before he crossed to the bed, laying Anders out and starting to check him over more carefully. Anders was starting to come to, moaning faintly as he rolled his head on the pillow before he gave a sharp cry as Cullen carefully straightened out his arms.

“Ah, sorry; guess something did break after all,” said Cullen apologetically as Anders opened his eyes and stared down at his right forearm then up at the Commander.

“Cullen tackled you love, he was faster than me. I’ll go get Hal, if you will excuse me a moment gentlemen.” Vic glanced at both men to be sure they were fine to be left alone.

“Maker, I am so, _so_ sorry,” Cullen was apologising as Invictus headed out the door; behind him, he could hear Anders’ low reply.

“I can’t believe you broke my arm _again_ , Cullen....”

“I said I was sorry!” Cullen’s voice floated out after Invictus; as the mage frowned and began to make his way down the hall, he could still hear Anders’ voice, rising in pitch in mild outrage.

“This is the _fourth time!!_ ”

Vic went to Dorian’s rooms first, unsure if the Altus had returned or was still in his rooms. He knocked briskly and waited.

“Just a minute!” came Dorian’s voice, the Altus sounding terse and almost angry. The door was almost violently wrenched open. “What is it?” Dorian glared out then relented when he saw it was the Champion; he looked rather frayed about the edges, his hair a little dishevelled as though he’d been running a hand through it distractedly. “I’m sorry, I’m a little... tense,” the Tevinter mage apologised as he stepped back and waved Invictus in. “You’re here for Hal I presume? I’m afraid he’s... well. See for yourself.”

Dorian gestured at the chair in the corner where Hal was curled up, sobbing almost hysterically, strands of crimson hair scattered in a drift all about the foot of the chair.

“Um...yes, but maybe I should just take him to my room? Anders is hurt and I can’t heal for anything useful...I was hoping Hal could help but he’s not in much better shape.” Vic said as he entered and knelt before the distraught mage. “Hal?”

The red-haired mage lifted his head slightly, enough for Invictus to see the blunt ends of his hair where it appeared Hal had hacked his waist-length hair off with something; it now barely brushed his shoulders, the ends roughly chopped. Hal’s mismatched eyes were bloodshot and full of tears, his face streaked with them and blotchy from crying.

“I’ve ha-had enough,” Hal managed to gasp out. “I’ve - I’ve h-had enough and I w-want to go _home_.”

“You know you can’t Hal, I’m sorry. Do you want to go rest in my room so Dorian can have some privacy? I didn’t mean to leave you for so long.” Vic said softly as he glanced to Dorian then back to the other mage.

“It was a knife,” murmured Dorian. “I managed to get it off him before he’d done anything worse than cut his hair but I desperately need a drink right now and - I’m sorry, Hawke, I think I’ve done about as much as I can for him. This is really not my area of expertise at all.”

“Nor mine, and Anders has a broken arm and Cullen is sitting with him. It’s why I came for Hal but ...this is a mess.” Vic straightened up and pulled Hal into his arms. “Don’t fight me, let’s get you settled somewhere since your room is a wreck and a crime scene.” 

“Not fighting,” agreed Hal dully. He stared down at the pile of hair at his feet then stared at Dorian. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, hiccuping slightly.

“Yes, we’re all sorry right now I think,” said Dorian tiredly. “I have no idea what’s occasioned this seeming outbreak of mass hysteria but whatever it is, it can push off and stop it for a few hours.” He waved them both off. “Go, go - I need a drink, _he_ probably needs a drink - and you look as if you need a drink as well, Hawke.”

“I’m never drinking ever again,” murmured Hal as he followed Invictus to the door.

“At least not whiskey.” Vic muttered as he took Hal to his room and set the red-head down. “Will you be ok if you I go see if Arden can help out in the infirmary or do you need to come with me so you don’t chop off anymore of your hair or worse?” 

Hal shook his head and dropped down into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands as his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs once more.

“Hal, I do not feel right leaving you alone like this but Anders is hurt and Fenris has ...gone off to who knows where and either you come with me and help me heal his broken arm or you go with me to see Arden, and then the infirmary where I can keep an eye on you. Which is it?”

Hal lifted his head and stared up at him, wiping at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. “I’ll - I’ll come with you to find Arden,” he said quietly. He got to his feet.  
Vic headed to Arden’s room, hopeful he wasn’t in as bad as shape as they’d left him in before. “Arden, you here?”

The blond Champion glanced up from polishing the steel blade of his staff. “Vic?” He glanced at Hal then back to Invictus as he got to his feet, slinging the staff on his back. “Something wrong?”

“More like what isn’t wrong? Can you come with me to Anders room, he has a broken arm. It’s not terrible but it’s still fractured.” Vic sounded exhausted to himself as he waited for Arden to join them.

“Anders in trouble? Must be Tuesday,” quipped the blond mage. “Alright, let me see what I can do.” He gestured to Invictus to lead the way. 

Vic quirked a smile at that as he led the other mages back to Anders room and sat back while Arden took over. He sat in a chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “I could sleep for a week.”

Cullen was regarding Anders slightly shamefacedly; whilst Invictus was gone, he’d set and splinted Anders’ arm and put it in a sling. An empty elfroot potion bottle sat on the bedside table and Anders was reclining against the pillows of the bed, his face rather pale, his eyes closed. 

“What have you been doing this time Anders?” asked Arden as he sat himself on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know, turn my back for a couple of years and here you are being chased by Templars, breaking bones, and getting into all sorts of mischief. It’s almost as though I’d never been away.” He reached for the other mage’s arm.

Anders’ eyes snapped open and he stared at Arden in surprise, then at Invictus.

Vic arched an eyebrow at the change in Arden’s tone but didn’t ask, he was worn too thin. “Can you heal it or should it stay in a splint for a while?” 

“Oh, I _can_ heal it, but it’ll heal stronger if it’s allowed to do so naturally,” shrugged Arden. “I can give it a little nudge though. Are either of you going to need to do any fighting any time soon, or do we have time for him to be healing up for a few weeks?”

“We will _make_ time,” said Cullen firmly. Anders looked as though he were going to argue, then sighed.

“I probably need the rest,” he admitted ruefully. “And seeing as it rather looks like I’m not going anywhere....”

“Good, that’s settled then,” said Arden briskly, ignoring the way Anders and Cullen were glaring half-heartedly at each other over his shoulder as he rubbed his hands together before laying them over Anders’ splinted arm. Anders inhaled sharply as he winced. “Sorry,” Arden remarked absently, focusing on what he was doing.

“Believe me, even if I have to sit on him, Anders will take it easy while his arm heals. That means Hal will be in charge while he’s on light duty. Do not argue with me, either of you. It has been a long, long fucking day. I’m tired, I’m worried about all of you and right now I want nothing more than to go fall on my face and sleep for a couple of days. Once Arden is done you are taking a potion and going to bed. Arden is is going to take Hal to his room until he can be set up somewhere else, then I’ll look for Fenris. Are all of you clear?” Vic finished.

“Vic,” said Arden in an even, almost absent tone.

“What?” Vic asked. The blond mage finally glanced around at him with a half-smirk.

“Simmer down. I’ve got this. You just let me take care of this, OK?” He turned back to ANders and carefully checked the sling, then lifted a hand to turn Anders’ head slightly. “Nasty bruise - been headbutting templars again?”

“How did you know...??” exclaimed Cullen; Arden merely chuckled as he started healing the contusion.

“My Anders did it twice. Not to our Cullen, I must say, but he could get pretty wild in the heat of battle if one of us was down - or some idiot templar didn’t back off.” Arden grinned as he lowered his hand. “There, good as new.”

Anders was staring at him. “You weren’t like this yesterday,” he said slowly. Arden grimaced slightly.

“Yes, well, I got very drunk, threw up a lot, got it out of my system then slept on it. I can’t change what happened; I barely remember even half of it and I probably don’t want to remember what came after anyway. I figure I’m probably stuck in this world and there’s nothing left for me back there. So I may as well move forward.” He shrugged. “Besides, I realised that the one person I would have gone back for is here anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hal.

The red-head stared at him. “You... you remember me?” he whispered.

“Mostly,” shrugged Arden. “There’s still a lot missing, and you’ve... changed a lot from how I remember you. But... maybe you can help me remember some of the good things I’ve forgotten, and we can... well, start over, I suppose?”

“Thank fuck that something has gone right today.” Vic said as he watched them all. “Is it alright if I go and see if I can find Fenris, will you all be alright if I leave you here for a while?” 

“Go ahead,” nodded Arden. “Anders should try and sleep, Cullen no doubt has duties and probably ought to buff that dent out of his armour -” Both Anders and Cullen winced, Cullen blushing as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “And Hal and I have much to catch up on. We’ll be fine.”

“Alright, if I can’t find him...I’ll let him be for a while. Chasing Fenris when he wants to hide never ends well. Thanks.” Vic said as he left them and debated which way to even go since he’d run after Anders at a dead sprint.

After he’d gone, there was a slightly awkward silence before Cullen got to his feet. 

“Yes, well, I, ah, I ought to be getting back to my duties,” he said uncomfortably. “Anders, I’m sorry about -”

“-the arm, yes, I know - you’ve apologised five times already, Cullen,” nodded Anders. “Go on, we’ll be fine. Arden’s right; I should rest.”

“Was it five? I’m sor-” Cullen checked himself. “Right.” He nodded to Anders and Arden, then let himself out.

Both Anders and Arden waited until he was gone before glancing at each other then bursting out laughing. 

“You, get some sleep,” smiled Arden as he levelled a finger at Anders, straightening up. “Hal, let’s move over to the table; I’ll send for food and we can talk.”

Anders slowly drifted to sleep as the two mages sat down and began to get to know each other again.


	9. Chapter 9

Fenris had locked the door to his room, gone right to the liquor cabinet and then straight after to the bathing chamber to start a bath. He was unnerved by what the spirit had shown him, but more by what she had done to both him and Anders. He recalled how once, Anders had mentioned in passing that he was generally aware when Justice had taken him over - for instance, when Ella died - but the full impact of the horror implicit in that statement had never entirely sunk in until he had experienced the blond mage’s terror so directly. He sunk into the water with a groan, and clutched the bottle in his hands, desperately trying to forget the sound of Anders’ voice pleading with his spirit to let him go; the sound of his screaming as Fenris was released. He feared the sound, Anders’ terror, would revisit him and haunt his dreams for a long time to come. He ignored the pounding at his door, the sound of Invictus’ voice making him wish he’d left the Keep instead.

Invictus gave up when there was no answer, deciding to go get cleaned up, have some tea and hoping against hope maybe the elf had fled to his rooms instead. Fenris held still until he was certain he was alone, then took another drink from the bottle in his hand.

Maker, was he really brought to this then? Hiding in the bath as the water slowly cooled, clutching a bottle and trying not to think? Maybe in some ways he was no better off than he had been in Kirkwall before - well, everything. That wasn’t living then, and it wasn’t living now, but in lieu of any better ideas then he’d find comfort where he could.

Fenris eventually got out, shivering as he cursed himself for sitting so long in a cold bath before he threw on a robe, unlatched the door and crawled into bed to warm up. If Invictus did return, he’d at least let him in. He frowned at the bottle, then slouched down into the covers and took another long pull of the bottle.

The problem with being alone, he reflected, was that he had only his own thoughts for company; and right now they were lacking in cheer. What he really needed was a distraction; time away from Skyhold. Perhaps he should have taken flight for a while. He cursed himself yet again; this time for fleeing without thinking.

Soon enough the elf had warmed up, even as he continued to nurse the bottle. If he wasn’t the size and height he was, he’d have likely passed out by the time Invictus returned to see if he was in. At the first knock, he called out to whoever it was, not wanting to be alone any longer. He didn’t look up as the door opened, instead focusing his attention on the label of the wine bottle. It was almost empty. He picked at the edge of the label moodily.

“Hey...mind if I stay for a while? I was worried when you weren’t here before. If you want me to go, I’ll understand, even if I won’t like it,” Vic said quietly.

“No... you may stay,” said Fenris slowly. “I... was bathing.” He peeled a thin strip of paper off the edge of the label and frowned. He gestured at the edge of the bed. “Sit.”

Invictus sat on the edge, careful to give Fenris space, cautious after the way he’d panicked. “So...do you want to talk about what happened? I’m not entirely sure what we saw, but you haven’t panicked like that in a long time, I’m worried love.” 

Fenris’ frown deepened. “Do you remember what Anders once told us? About when he... Justice... killed that mage girl, Ella?” he asked slowly, not looking up.

“Yeah...I do, it was not one of our better moments,” Vic said as he watched how Fenris refused to look at him.

“Do you remember he said that he was... _aware_ and watching whilst Justice possessed him? Able to watch but not do anything?” continued Fenris, his expression becoming troubled.

“Somewhat yes, I remember being pretty horrified about it...I don’t understand what that has to do with what happened earlier?” Vic said as he began to fiddle with the end of a belt so he wouldn’t lean over and try to touch Fenris when he was so edgy.

“When his... spirit... touched me, I could hear Anders. He was pleading with her to let him go. She showed me Zevran... how he looks to a healer, what it is to look inside someone with magic, to see his wounds as she, as Anders does. I did not wish to look any longer and demanded he let me go, and Anders... could not. He was terrified.” Fenris finally darted Invictus a brief sidelong glance then dropped his gaze. “She had possessed him against his will, and he was forced to watch as _she_ healed Zevran - and he could not even look away. She holds him prisoner in his own mind, and she... held me also, briefly.” His mouth quirked down into a brief look of distress before he glanced away. “For a brief time, I... knew what it is like to be possessed as Anders is. And it terrified me.”

Invictus gasped as as he realized how bad it must have been for Fenris, and understood why he had panicked. “Love...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“He cannot control her. She can take him over at any moment of weakness. Invictus... what if she becomes corrupted as he believes Justice was?” He finally met Invictus’ gaze, his eyes haunted by the prospect. 

“I...don’t know. We should talk to him tomorrow, when both of you have rested and are not as wound up. Right now it would be very bad for you to try and talk this out.” Vic said quietly as he pondered what Fenris had said to him. “Do you think she’s becoming corrupted or was this a one time, bad experience?”

“How would we know?” asked Fenris, hopelessly. “Do we know if she has possessed him at other times without his knowledge? With Justice, the demon was capable of rendering him unconscious at times so that afterwards he knew nothing of what he had done, whereas at other times he allowed Anders to... watch. Would we know if she did this with Anders? Would _he_?”

“We could ask if he’s had times where he doesn’t remember things, or can’t recall time passing? I mean it’s not as if we aren’t all together at some point, where we would have missed him acting oddly or something. I think once we’re all calm and rested, we can discuss this,” Vic said.

Fenris dropped his gaze and nodded. “He... fled. Earlier, before I also ran. Is he... well?”

Vic glanced down at the bedding and sighed. “Sort of, he’s calmed down and Arden was able to heal him. But Cullen tackled him and broke his arm - not bad, no bones stuck out or anything but still broken. He’s in a sling and he’s to rest while it heals which I told he’d do if I had to sit on him. I think once he’s slept and had a couple more meals he’ll be in a better place to talk to.”

Fenris’ head had snapped up at mention of the broken arm and his eyes narrowed; he growled without realising he was doing it until Invictus glanced up at him and lifted an eyebrow. The elf sighed. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “Arden has recovered then? He was was not himself before.”

“Apparently sleeping off his hangover and some soul searching did him good. Hal...cut off a lot of his hair and was hysterical apparently. But he and Arden were speaking when I left them in Anders’ rooms. I can stay here if you want or if you need to be alone, I’ll go away and get you for breakfast in the morning?” Vic offered.

“I find I am not overly fond of the company of only my own thoughts at present,” the elf confessed wrily. “I suspect that I will not have peaceful dreams tonight.” 

“Well if you wish, I’ll get a meal sent up and I’m happy to keep you company tonight, whether it’s to be quiet and lie together or if you wish to have other fun with me; I am yours,” Vic said as he held a hand out to the warrior. 

“Would you mind if first we call upon Zevran in the infirmary? I... ran away before I could see for myself that he was healed,” the elf said awkwardly as he took Vic’s hand briefly..

“Of course love, get dressed and we can check on him.” Vic said as he watched Fenris get up and drop the robe as he rummaged for something to wear.

The elf dressed swiftly then turned to Invictus. “Perhaps we could call upon Anders afterwards. I feel ill at ease that I shrank away from him when he was already so distressed from his spirit possessing him without warning,” he confessed, the tips of his ears pinking slightly.

“Whatever you need love, but I don’t want you to feel pressured to see him because you feel guilty. If you need space, you should take it.” Vic cautioned.

Fenris shook his head. “He needed me, and I failed him. I was held by his spirit only briefly whilst she touched me, but he could not free himself. He knew the danger far better than I and had far more cause for his terror. I was selfish, and I fear he blamed himself.” His ears drooped slightly. “And now he is hurt again.”

“As you wish my heart, I am here for both of you, all of you.” Vic took his hand and leaned up to kiss him briefly. “I’m sure Anders doesn’t blame you, let’s call on Zevran then Anders, and we can settle in for a nice night eh?” 

Fenris nodded, and they headed off for the infirmary - the mage heartily glad that his warrior husband seemed content to go on foot instead of dragging him on a leap through the Fade again. Once had been more than enough.

They arrived at the infirmary to find Parcival sitting behind the desk, filling in a ledger in his neat, meticulous copperplate script. Sister Rebecca had just brought him a large mug of something hot and steaming, and he glanced up at her with a warm smile before they both noticed Invictus and Fenris. Rebecca laid a hand over that of Parcival’s for a moment and they shared another smile before the Chantry sister moved away and Parcival rose to greet them.

“You’re here to see Zevran? He’s sleeping at present - we’ve moved him to a private side room.” He gestured for them to follow.

“How is he? Can he be moved back to his room soon?” Vic asked quietly as they followed the young healer.

“He awoke in pain,” said Parcival as he paused by the door of a room and glanced back at the Champion. “He didn’t say anything, but - well, a healer knows when a patient is uncomfortable. He should have spoken sooner but....” He shrugged and the other two men exchanged knowing looks. They were well-acquainted with the Antivan elf’s stubbornness. “It would be best if he remained here for a day or two before being moved. We don’t want to risk the largest scar tearing open again.”

“Largest scar?” Fenris asked as he approached Zevran’s bedside and sat next to him. 

“Yes, the one in his side,” answered Parcival as he gestured to the soft white bandages wrapped around Zevran’s torso. “His lung was pierced as well; the hole has been repaired, but he shouldn’t be allowed to over-exert himself or he could risk collapsing that lung. He’s lucky to be alive, all things considered - but then Anders is a very talented healer.” He smiled briefly. “We just want to take a few precautions and give Zevran the best chance to fully heal up.” He glanced around to Invictus. “I’ll leave you three in peace then - I’ll just be at my desk if you need me.” He slipped quietly out of the door and left them alone with the sleeping former Crow.

“Thank you Parcival.” Fenris said as he took the other elf’s hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I ran.” he whispered.

Zevran gave a soft sigh and his fingers twitched in Fenris’ hand. “ _Carissimi_?” he murmured quietly.

“Figured you weren’t actually asleep; you should rest, my heart,” Fenris said as he gave the Antivan a soft smile.

Vic remained near the door, unwilling to get in between them and glad Fenris wanted to check on Zevran without being pushed to do it.

Zevran’s eyes slowly opened and he smiled slightly as he glanced up at Fenris. “I would rise to greet you properly but it seems I am not permitted to... _exert_ myself,” he sighed. “The good healer feels it would not be fair of me to put him to further work after it seems Anders had already saved my hide.”

“Take their words to heart, you know they mean for you to heal up. How do you feel, the truth?” Fenris asked as he knelt down by the bed and carefully leaned in to brush a kiss over the other elf’s forehead.

Zevran shrugged and then winced as the movement pulled at the tender scar in his shoulder. “I have had better days, _carissimi_ ,” he confessed. “It would have been over swifter had I had more room to fight. Though I think perhaps I had the advantage - I knew every man in that room was my enemy, whereas they had to hit only one man. It could have been far worse. At least it was me they found and not Hal.”

“Maybe me being such an ass last night served some purpose then,” Fenris said quietly as he brushed a loose strand of hair from Zevran’s face. “I will have a guard put here, I fear they are still around if four men could infiltrate the Keep so easily.” 

“I do not know if Hal was their target,” confessed Zevran. “There were at least two others that fled when they realised who I was. I was recognised, I think.”

“Mythal...Maker, that means they may still be around? I’ll keep guard once you’re released to your room. I would feel better if you had someone right outside the door until then,” Fenris replied.

“And I would rest easier were I elsewhere, my heart,” confessed Zevran. “Now they know who I am, they may seek to finish what they started - and I would not wish our young healer Parcival nor his Chantry sweetheart to be put at risk by my presence.”

“I will check on you often, and make sure they know to find me should anything out of the ordinary happen. Also to check any and all things brought to you if we don’t bring it ourselves. Will that help carissimi?” Fenris asked.

“Perhaps it will suffice,” replied Zevran, checking himself before he shrugged again. “Though I would wish you would persuade Parcival it is in his own best interests to let me leave.” He glanced to Invictus. “I would leave it to your judgement as to which of our rooms would be the more easily defended by either or both of you however.”

“Mine, I don’t have a lot of windows that are easily breached and being in the middle of the Keep makes it hard for someone to randomly get there without being noticed. Besides, anyone foolish enough to attack me will find a very unhappy dragon there to meet them.” Fenris grinned as he caressed Zevran’s face again and reluctantly rose. “You should actually sleep, or get a potion for pain if you need it.” 

“You will return in the morning, _carissimi_?” asked Zevran as he gazed up at Fenris. 

“Of course, I’ll bring you breakfast if you like.” Fenris said.

“I would ask for my blades, but I am not sure I would not do more damage attempting to throw them,” confessed Zevran. “And yet, I do not like being this defenceless.” He frowned. He glanced to Invictus. “You will come? Both of you?”

“Of course, we wouldn’t leave you like this Zevran, if you need anything later, send a runner to Fenris’ rooms.” Vic said with a slight frown, worried that the elf actually admitted to his concern.

Zevran nodded slowly, then grimaced slightly as he tried to get himself comfortable. “Perhaps... I will take that potion as you say, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly.

“I’ll get it, be right back,” Vic said with a wave at Fenris to remain a little longer.

“Once you are cleared to go, I will take care of you.” Fenris said as he leaned in and shifted things around so Zevran could rest easier. “That better?” 

“Much,” the other elf nodded. “Fenris... those assassins. They may have been looking specifically for mages and merely decided to take advantage of a chance to strike at me as well. Or perhaps they were hunting for me; I do not know. But have a care, _carissimi_. There are still two, and like this I cannot go hunt them. You must protect Anders and Hal where I cannot now. Warn Meneris and Dorian. I do not know who they will attack next.”

“Of course, I should make amends to them as well for running out as I did. I am somewhat glad you could not see me in such a state.” Fenris said as he sat once more and took Zevran’s hand.

“What happened?” asked Zevran; as Fenris blanched slightly, recalling the unnerving experience of looking at Zevran with his eyes whilst simultaneously being far more aware of the other elf’s body and scars than he was even of his own, the Antivan hastily went on, “Or do not tell me; perhaps we should just be glad that all is well, I will be recovered soon enough, and leave it at that?”

“Yes, that might be best.” Fenris said, as he held onto Zevran even when Vic returned with a healing potion.

“Love you need to let him go for a moment so he can take this.” Vic teased gently.

Zevran gave Fenris an understanding smile then reached for the potion before his face paled and he let his arm drop with a stifled groan then swore softly to himself in Antivan before holding out his good hand for the bottle. 

Fenris leaned back and waited for Zevran to finish before he took his hand once more. “Sleep well my heart, and we’ll both see you in the morning alright?”

Zevran nodded, his eyes growing heavy as the potion started to take effect, dulling the pain. “I will, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured as he closed his eyes. He slipped swiftly into sleep, his hand growing slack in Fenris’ grip.

The elven warrior rose after a few minutes, taking care to pull the blanket over Zevran and giving him another kiss before he left, hand entwined with Invictus’ and a slight smile. “Come, we should check on Anders as well before we retire.”

They found Anders sitting up in bed and sipping at a glass of wine, Hal and Arden sitting in chairs nearby. Arden let them in and smiled.

“Fenris, Vic,” he greeted them. “I had a feeling you might drop by.” He lowered his voice. “Anders has to be one of the worst patients ever. I’ve had to threaten to put a spell on him if he didn’t behave. He was going to march back down to the infirmary, sling or no, and go back to working again.” He shook his head and grinned. 

“Did I or did I not tell you I’d go so far as to sit on you if you didn’t take it easy?” Vic asked.

Anders at least had the good grace to blush and look contrite. “Well, you _could_ sit on me, and I certainly wouldn’t be capable of going very far then - but I’d rather you didn’t,” he answered, with what he hoped was a winning smile. Arden merely raised an eyebrow at him then glanced to Fenris.

“There’s wine if you’d like some, and I think there’s still stew in the pot on the table if you’re both hungry,” the blond Champion suggested.

“Thank you Arden.” Fenris said as he fidgeted behind Invictus as he waited to say something to Anders. 

“No problem,” Arden shrugged. “I’m guessing you’d like a little alone-time with Anders. Why don’t Hal and I leave you to it?” The red-haired mage was getting to his feet and glancing at Fenris self-consciously as he blushed slightly, one hand coming up to finger the blunt-cut end of a strand of hair before he pushed it back behind his ear.

Invictus went to help himself and let Fenris make his amends. He warmed up stew and settled in for a long overdue meal after all the excitement of the day.

Fenris went over to Hal, and reached for his hair but stopped himself before he could ask a stupid question. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked instead.

Hal’s blush deepened as he ducked his head. “I’m sorry, I’ve been really on edge lately. I... you were trying to help, I know. I just didn’t want to hear it.”

“Hal.” Fenris tipped hal’s chin up with a forefinger so the young mage was forced to meet his gaze, and smiled at him. “Sorry to have been the source of that stress. If you feel like it, we can catch up tomorrow over lunch maybe?” 

“Yes, I’d like that,” agreed Hal with a nod. “How is he? Zevran, I mean? He looked... bad. Though when the dead elf nearly fell on me, for a moment I thought _he_ was Zevran, and then Zevran was actually there and -” He broke off. “Sorry,” he finished, a nervous smile playing on his lips. “Still a bit keyed up. Arden and I have been talking, which... helps. But yesterday was - it was not a good day.”

“Hal, you’re babbling,” smiled Arden as he patted the red-haired mage’s shoulder. “Come on, you can catch up with Fenris tomorrow. He’s here for Anders now.”

“Yes, you’re right,” nodded Hal. “I’m sorry. Yes - lunch, lunch would be good.” He smiled at Fenris.

“Good, I’ll find you in the infirmary then?” the elf gave him a loving smile and a kiss on the cheek before he glanced to Anders.

Anders had been watching Fenris and Hal with covert interest; as the elf’s eyes flicked to him however, Anders blushed a little and turned his attention back to the glass of wine he’d been slowly nursing before they arrived as he leaned back against the pillows.

After a promise to meet the next day, Fenris went over to Anders and sat by the bed, his head bowed. “I’m sorry.”

Anders glanced at Fenris, a look of nervousness flickering across his face. “Not as sorry as I am,” he murmured. “You... shouldn’t have seen that. Or... heard it. Me. Not like that.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have panicked and run like that. Please forgive me, and know I don’t blame you.” Fenris said as he kept his head down.

Anders smiled at the elf sadly. “It’s bad enough that I have nightmares about this, Fenris,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s not fair that you should have them too.”

“Trust me, I’ve got enough things to fuel my own nightmares for the rest of my days. Do not blame yourself my heart.” Fenris replied as he dared a look up at his husband.

Anders’ eyes were aimed back at the wine in his glass once more. “It’s true what I said though. I’m an abomination again. She took me over without warning, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. I should be thankful she was only intent on healing Zevran - because I froze for a moment, I suppose.” He closed his eyes. “Maker, what must Cullen think now? And Meneris? They can hardly think an abomination suitable to be Grand Enchanter - not after this. What’s to be done with me?”

Fenris picked at the blanket as he spoke. "Don't speak that way of yourself love. Right now you just need to rest, worry about them later."

“But it’s true,” Anders insisted miserably. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” He downed the last of his wine then set the glass aside and reached for Fenris’ hand without looking up. “I’m afraid of it happening again.”

“It’s a reasonable fear but you cannot let that paralyze you my heart. We can work through it together, if you’ll let me.” Fenris said.

Anders lifted his head and gave Fenris an almost despairing look. “We were supposed to be departing to Tevinter in a week, and -” He broke off as his eyes widened. “Ellowynne. What if I’m a threat to her?”

“Stop it right now. You are not a threat to her, I’m sure you’d rather slit your own throat than harm her. Stop it right now Anders.” Fenris said.

Anders drew back his hand and dropped his forehead to rest against his palm as he moaned. “Maker. Why did this have to happen now? We were _happy_ for once.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want to frighten her.” He glanced over to Invictus. “Love, you’re the First Enchanter here. Can you arrange for her to stay with the twins maybe? I know she’ll love to think she can have a sleep-over with the “big kids” in the College.”

“No, I am not doing that to you or to her. Do you honestly think she’ll be fine with suddenly being taken from you? She’ll probably think she did something wrong to be sent off like that.” Vic said with a scowl. 

“Do not say that again, ever.” Fenris added.

Anders recoiled slightly, then bowed his head. “I’m sorry, I just... this fatherhood business is still new to me and I’m worried what it would do to her to see me like this.” He gestured at himself in frustration. “Some father I’ve turned out to be.”

Fenris sighed and turned to Invictus for help, the topic was beyond him.

“Do not chastise yourself because of this, and so help me if you complain about yourself as a father again I will be furious. I see the way my father looked at the twins when I see you look at your daughter. You love her so much and she’s brilliant, amazing and loves you Anders. You’re a great father so stop this, please?” Vic said as he crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t deserve her,” Anders murmured as he leaned back against the pillows then clutched at his arm in the sling with a pained wince. “I don’t deserve you two either.” He opened his eyes and managed a weak smile.

“Hey it’s my job to be a pathetic idiot in this relationship and say I don’t deserve to be happy. Don’t take my job.” Fenris quipped.

“If I say I’m sorry again are you both going to shout at me?” Anders asked wrily.

“Yes,” Fenris and Invictus replied in eerily perfect synch.

“Yes until you quit this pathetic bullshit. You are a great father, and you are stuck with us I’m afraid, we took vows and everything.” Vic said as he waggled his fingers at Anders so his rings flashed in the candlelight. 

“So we did,” Anders agreed quietly. “I guess that means you’re stuck with me and I may as well just surrender, huh?”

“Not surrender, just see how much you are loved.” Fenris said as he swept his thumb over the back of Anders hand. “Do you want Vic to stay with you, me? All of us won’t fit easily in your bed.” 

“Oh, I don’t know; we’ve fitted the three of us in it before,” Anders shrugged. “Granted it was too much of a squeeze with Zevran as well mind you.”

“Your arm was not in a sling last time either. Invictus’ bed is larger and closer to the infirmary...since Zevran wanted us to come by in the morning. We all could go.” Fenris offered.

“You have a point I guess,” Anders conceded with a shrug of his unharmed left shoulder. “I might need a hand with dressing.” He glanced down at the sling then sighed. “Maker, Cullen _would_ have to land on my _right_ arm,” he groused. “Always the right!”

“Do I need to go punch him in the face?” Fenris asked as he rose to get something for Anders to slip into.

“No, you do not, I said so earlier.” Vic shooed him off as he put clothes in a rucksack and offered Anders his arm. Anders rose from the bed and glanced around for his boots; Vic picked them up then helped him into them, bending down to buckle them for Anders.

“No, you don’t,” Anders agreed. “It’s not as though he deliberately aimed for my arm after all. Any more than he did every other time he’s accidentally broken my bones. Let’s just say I’ve never made it easy for _any_ templar to bring me back in.” He grinned ruefully. “Besides, knowing Cullen he’ll be feeling guilty over this for as long as I’m wearing a sling.”

“Fine, but I can glower at him...maybe spit fire to make him jump if I want.” Fenris said as he followed behind them to Invictus’ rooms. “I’m getting something sent up, I’m hungry and I can feel a headache starting from the whiskey.”

“If you breathe fire, love, then _I’ll_ be jumping,” replied Anders. “But feel free to glower to your heart’s content. Me, I fully intend to use puppy eyes on him at every opportunity. Well, for a week, at least.”

“You’ve seen me do it before; why would you be jumpy?” Fenris griped as he stopped and caught a servant to request a tray be sent up.

“You nearly made Dorian piss himself when he saw you do it, why would you scare Anders like that?” Vic asked.

“Elves are not supposed to breathe fire,” Anders muttered. “Not even ones tall enough to look me in the eye as they’re doing it. Maybe even _especially_ ones that tall.”

“You don’t let me have any fun,” Fenris grumbled as he glanced at them.

“It seems we have very different definitions of fun Fenris.” Vic teased.

“Very different indeed,” Anders agreed. A faint frown creased his brow and his gaze had lowered to the hall floor as they walked. 

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked.

“Sorry... pain,” Anders murmured distractedly. “What were you saying?” He stumbled slightly; the elf suddenly realised that Anders’ forehead was beaded with sweat.

“Should I carry you?” Vic asked quietly.

“No,” Anders shook his head slowly. “I can walk. It’s just my arm.” He swallowed hard. “Is it much further?”

“Not much further, I have potions and I can do something for you once we’re inside.” Vic slipped his arm around Anders and hurried as much as he could while Fenris followed behind. 

Anders was heartily glad to see the door of Invictus’ rooms. His arm was beginning to throb in earnest and the pain was making him feel queasy. He was heartily tempted to ask for a lyrium potion so he could heal it completely by magic, just to be rid of the ache and done, but he knew from his own experience that that would only result in a weak mend - and after all, that was why that arm had broken so often before. A hasty mend would only mean another break if he weren’t careful.

As Invictus guided him to a chair, he sank down into it gratefully and sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m a lousy patient,” he muttered.

“Tell me something I don’t know. I’ll get you some more healing potions, do you need a lyrium potion too?” Vic asked.

“I’m tempted to say yes - but frankly, this break is on the same point all the previous ones were, and I healed those with magic. Just once, I should let this heal the natural way.” Anders grimaced slightly as he rubbed his arm slowly through the sling. 

Fenris glowered but didn’t say a word, he was already seething despite Vic and Cullen’s assurances. 

Anders glanced up at the elf as if somehow reading his thoughts. “Fen... please. Don’t. It wasn’t Cullen’s fault.”

“Fine.” Fenris relented to keep the peace. 

“Love, please don’t pick a fight with Cullen.” Vic asked quietly.

“Love, maybe you could sort out food for us whilst Vic gets the potions?” suggested Anders.

“Food will be here shortly, I’m going to my room for something to read, I’ll return.” Fenris replied. He hurried out before he lost his temper.

Anders watched him go with a look of dismay. “Maker, I really don’t know what to say to him sometimes when he gets like this,” he said quietly. “He can’t go around looking for someone to take it out on every time one of us gets hurt.”

“He wasn’t doing well before, and I don’t ...fuck I’ll try to talk to him later. Sometimes, I wonder if we don’t keep pushing him when he needs space.” Vic said tiredly. “Take your potions, hopefully he’ll be less prickly when he returns.” 

Anders nodded. As Invictus opened each one and handed it to him, he downed it and handed the empty bottle back to Invictus - an elfroot potion for the pain, a minor healing potion to help his body’s healing reserves, a stamina potion to help him keep awake and alert enough to at least eat properly. The elfroot was bitter, the stamina potion vile, and the healing potion was cloyingly sweet; he took them all without a word however.

“Vic, I don’t see how Meneris can dare let me go to Tevinter like this,” he said quietly once he’d finished. “I think this has likely pushed back the diplomatic visit for at least a month or more now. Do you think Fenris will have pulled himself together by then?”

“We cannot know what Meneris will do love, and I can’t speak - no, I _won’t_ speak for Fenris on this. He’s going to have to work through it on his own, or let us in.” Vic said quietly.

“I don’t know when I’ll have _pulled myself together_ , as you said.” Fenris said as he kicked the door closed and set the tray down.

“Fenris… don’t, please.” Vic said.

Anders had closed his eyes as he realised Fenris had heard him, a rueful grimace crossing his face before he dropped his head into his hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly.

Fenris glanced at them then made his plate so he could keep from railing at them. “Accepted.” was all he said before he fixed Anders a plate and took it to him. “Do you need help?” 

Anders opened his eyes and glanced down at the plate before slowly shaking his head. “I think I can manage,” he said dully. He took up his fork and began picking at the food before he set to.

“Don’t overexert yourself, if you need help tell one of us.” Fenris said as he watched Anders move food around instead of eating.

“If he says he doesn’t need help, let him be love.” Vic said as he watched the elf warily. 

“It’s alright, I’m fine, honestly!” said Anders as he glanced up. “And yes, I’ll speak up if I need help.”

“As you wish love.” Fenris said before he sat down to eat and ignore the heated glare from Invictus.

“Why are you being an ass?” Vic asked. 

Anders winced then set his fork down slowly. “Love... can we not? Please?” he said softly. He was too tired, still in pain, for any of this; he wasn’t sure he had it in him to referee yet another fight - much less be the cause of one.

Vic frowned at Anders but did as he was asked. “I will do as you ask then.” he replied though he wanted to shake Fenris for being so snappish.

“Thank you,” Anders replied quietly. After a moment, he picked up his fork and resumed eating again, what little appetite he’d had now diminished to almost nothing. He forced himself to eat, slowly, slightly clumsy as he wielded his fork in his left hand. He kept his eyes on his plate, aware of Fenris glaring at him occasionally. He was glad the elf remained silent.

Invictus ate quickly but he felt like he might as well have been eating sand for as much as he enjoyed the taste. He took Anders’ plate once he realized the other mage wasn’t going to take much more. “Do you want something to drink Anders?”

The blond mage nodded. “Please,” he agreed. “Maybe it will help me relax a little.” He leaned back in his chair, feeling tense and stiff from pain and worry.

Vic poured him a mostly full glass of red and waited until Anders was sitting up before he passed it to him. Anders took it with a thankful nod and sipped it slowly.

Fenris sat back and forced himself not to say a word at being snubbed at being offered a drink. He was regretting the offer to come to Vic’s rooms, but he knew if he up and left it would make things worse. Instead he opened the book he’d brought with him and dug into it.

Vic sighed internally but didn’t rise to whatever was wrong with Fenris, he was too tired and irritable himself to match the elf’s dark mood. He did frown at how his mood seemed to shift so easily but he knew it wasn’t the time to bring it up.

Anders frowned into his own glass as Fenris seemed to deliberately opt to ignore them both. On the other hand, at least the elf wasn’t taking out his bad mood on them - but Anders was concerned this merely meant the warrior were letting his anger simmer. 

He sipped his wine and glanced at Invictus, the other mage meeting his glance with a frown but shaking his head. Evidently he didn’t feel comfortable with challenging Fenris either. Anders quietly sighed and shifted slightly in his chair, trying to get comfortable. Between the wine and the potions the pain in his arm was now only a dull ache, but that allowed him to notice all the other little niggling aches and pains he’d ended up with thanks to Cullen’s abrupt halt of his flight.

Invictus got the bed ready and offered Anders his arm. “Come on, you look uncomfortable as the Void sitting up in that chair.” 

“I’ve had more comfortable days in general,” Anders shrugged as he got to his feet. “Maker, I’m getting too old for being knocked around like this.”

Invictus got him settled and turned to Fenris. “Well are you going to just ignore us all night? If you are, you can go to your room and brood. I love you but I’m not in a place to put up with this moodiness from you tonight.” 

Anders winced but held still as he glanced to Fenris.

Fenris glanced at Invictus, then to Anders for a moment before he closed his book and got up. “I’ll be going, see you both at breakfast.” 

Anders closed his eyes and counted silently to five then glanced to Invictus, his amber eyes darkened with worry as he bit his lip.

Invictus groaned as the door shut. “I’m sorry, I just ...couldn’t see him keep hurting you more than you were love.” 

Anders blinked, tears springing unbidden to his eyes. “Vic, why is he doing this again? Wasn’t it bad enough last time?” He lifted his hand and rubbed at his eyes slowly. “I don’t think I have the strength to go through that again. It was bad enough last time.”

Vic scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I… don’t know. All I can guess is he’s had a hard couple days emotionally, he’s worried for you and Zevran but hearing us discuss him maybe set him off on a spiral? I don’t honestly know and I’ll bet if we asked him tomorrow he might not be able to tell us. I’m worried as well but you’re the one with a broken arm, and you need support. So let’s just try to salvage tonight and deal with this other shit tomorrow, eh?” 

Anders nodded. “I really hope this is just a one-off, Vic. I can’t face the thought of him lashing out at me every time he’s upset again, the way he did before. It’s Cullen he’s really angry at.” He rubbed his forehead slowly, tired and still a little in pain in spite of potions and wine, and the stress was beginning to make his head ache. “I should probably talk to Meneris tomorrow about this diplomatic mission to Tevinter. Can’t say I’m looking forward to _that_ discussion much either.”

“Love, don’t think about that right now. We can’t guess about what he’ll say. Void, he might want to hold off as well. I know he and Dorian have some time planned to themselves, maybe he’ll push back the business part of the trip. Right now, I don’t really care, I just want to relax with you. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Fenris if he’ll talk to me. If not, maybe we should just let him be alone for a couple of days.”

Vic sat their tray outside and crawled in behind Anders so the other mage could have more room. He carefully rested against his husband and pondered telling the other man about the times he’d had to learn the hard way to leave the elf be. “Anders, can I tell you something? It’s not to excuse Fenris, believe me but maybe if you heard it you’d understand why he can still be prickly?”

“You can tell me anything, love,” answered Anders. “You should know that by now.” He smiled slightly. 

“Fenris...wasn’t allowed his own anything except a room when he was a slave. So when he was finally freed, and I convinced him to move in, having his own space was important. It didn’t matter that he had run of the house, Bodhan treated him like he owned it too; he needed that space. If we argued, he had that place to call his own. I think sometimes when any of us insist he stays and talks, it’s some odd reminder of when he couldn’t even sleep without being harassed by Danarius, or what’s her name that we tracked down and killed. I’m guessing maybe wrongly, but I feel like he might feel caged in when we do that. Also, we’re mages and even though he’s stronger, bigger physically and Mythal ‘fixed’ his markings, he’s still got some growing to do emotionally. That hasn’t changed. I just noticed we often try to keep him around to talk when it’s clear it’s the last thing he wants. Still doesn’t excuse tonight but it’s just a thought I had.” Vic took Anders uninjured hand in his and closed his eyes. 

“Apprentices in the tower slept in dormitories,” said Anders quietly, his eyes distant. “There were twenty of us to a room, and the templars patrolled it regularly. Even after your Harrowing, you didn’t get your own space really - there’d be three or four of you to a room, divided up by a few bookshelves and curtains to give the illusion of your own space. No doors though. We got our own rooms in Vigil’s Keep, but... well, not much by way of personal possessions really. My mother’s pillow was the only thing I could call my own, besides my staff.” He was silent a moment, then added very quietly, “I don’t even have that any more.”

He fell silent, staring at the candle flame in the holder on the bedside table as it flickered. “Even in Darktown, I was never entirely alone. My room - if you could call it that - was just a small alcove curtained off from the rest of the clinic. I think here at Skyhold is the first time I’ve truly had a space I could call my own.” He rolled over slightly to look at Invictus. “I understand, love; I really do. I just wish Fenris would see that and let me in, instead of lashing out at me like this when he can’t hurt the person he’s _really_ mad at.”

“I know...I just don’t get it, and right now it’s making my head hurt to consider it all. I just hope he doesn’t think we want to break up or something extreme like that. Maybe he’ll be better tomorrow but for now I’m focusing on you Anders. What do you need?” Vic asked quietly.

“Hold me - please?” asked Anders, his voice shaking a little. “I’m feeling rather shaken up and - and vulnerable, and _weak_ , and it’s... I don’t like it. I hate it when any of us fight, and coming on top of everything else, I just need to be held and - and reassured.” He gave Invictus a pleading look. “I’m only glad Ellowynne didn’t see Fen behaving like that towards me. She’s... quite protective of me, and there’s already been an incident with one of the new recruits.” He coloured slightly, although there was a proud note in his voice.

“I think getting knocked on his ass by her would probably be just what he needs.” Vic said as he wrapped gently around Anders and nuzzled at him. “Do you want her to join us? There’s enough room for her to cuddle with you too love.” Vic offered.

Anders pondered a moment, then nodded. “I think she’d like that - I know she’s worried about me,” he agreed.

“Alright, just relax and I’ll be back with her in a bit.” Vic headed off to snag Ellowyne, assuring her that her father was fine, he just wanted to have her with him for a while. The young girl scooped up her father’s tabby cat from the end of her bed then went with Invictus quite happily.

“Your father is fine Ellowynne, he just misses you is all.” Vic reassured her as they neared his room.

“I don’t like Commander Cullen,” she frowned. “I’m going to fireball that silly cloak of his.”

“Don’t...it’s hard to put out magical fire, and I’m sure Seeker Cassandra will be angry if you burn her husband. You wouldn’t like it if someone burned one of your uncles would you?” Vic asked as he opened the door and gave Anders a grin. 

“I’d freeze their -” she began hotly.

“Ellowynne, I’d think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Anders grinned. “Have you been hanging out with the twins again?”

She grinned back at him unrepentantly as she set the cat down on the end of the bed then climbed up to snuggle carefully against her father’s side, leaving space on the other side of Anders for his husband. The cat circled on the end of the bed then settled down, one ear twitching back towards Ellowynne and Anders.

“Is your arm very sore, daddy?” Ellowynne asked. Anders sighed.

“It’s been better, sweetheart,” he admitted. “Still, I suppose it means now I have the perfect excuse to practice casting one-handed. Which is something you ought to learn to do as well.”

“That would be useful,” she nodded. “Then I could fight with a knife in one hand and cast with the other!”

Anders glanced up at Invictus. “We’ve definitely got another battlemage on our hands, love,” he smiled.

“Definitely, she’s going to be a terror when she really gets into spells for combat.” Vic said as he went around snuffing a few candles and getting ready to slide into bed. 

“I can already do a fireball and I’m getting pretty good with ice,” shrugged Ellowynne. “And lightning bolts are _fun_! I’m not so good with the Force stuff though.” She snuggled down a little under the covers. “I managed to knock Garrett on his ass with a spirit bolt yesterday.”

“Ellowynne!” exclaimed Anders.

“What? Uncle Fenris says ‘ass’ all the time!” she protested.

“And he shouldn’t - but Uncle Fenris is a grown-up. It’s not right for a young lady to say it!”

“Then I shan’t be a young lady,” she shrugged. “And then I can knock everyone on their ass and take no shit just like Uncle Fenris.”

“Ellowynne - can you please not say such things?” Anders pleaded.

She looked up at him then suddenly smiled. “OK daddy, I promise I won’t say them around you.”

Vic covered his mouth as he tried not to laugh, but failed. “Ellowynne, maybe you shouldn’t take your uncle Fenris as a good example. He’s much bigger than you, his sword is taller than you madam!” 

“Uncle Zevran says the really big ones are the easiest to beat because their centre of gravity is higher and they underestimate the small ones,” Ellowyne shrugged. “Also if you surprise them.”

“I wouldn’t advise trying with Uncle Fenris,” said Anders quietly. “Not for a very long time yet.”

“How about we stop talking about ways to fight people, and get ready for bed? I’m too tired to fight a wet paper bag right now anyway.” Vic said with a worried glance at Anders.

“I’m not fighting anyone,” agreed Anders as he lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes with a faint wince.

“You won’t have to, daddy; I’ll defend you,” said Ellowynne staunchly as she curled up against him, careful of his arm in the sling, and closed her eyes. She was asleep soon after, it being rather later than her usual bedtime.

Anders dropped off to sleep soon after, leaving Invictus to drift off slowly to the peaceful sounds of Ellowynne’s even breathing and Anders’ faint snores.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris come clean, Anders makes a decision for himself provided some conditions are met.

Fenris had tossed and turned half he damned night as he pondered whether to come clean to his spouses. He’d found out what had come from the times when he’d been put to stud for Danarius and it had been gnawing at him for over a week. He’d kept it to himself because he didn’t know how to tell them, let alone if they would support him or the additions to the family. 

He finally got up, resolved to come clean even if it caused another fight. He got the papers from his desk, noted how his hand shook just a bit as he checked them over one more time before he headed down to Anders’ rooms. Fenris stood there for a long time, head against the door as he thought back to the meeting he’d had with Josephine just a week before.

**

_Fenris sat there, stunned into silence by Ambassador Montilyet’s findings. He’d asked her to look into any remaining family he might have in Tevinter. He knew where Nakusa was, and now knew of where Varania had gone to ground. Learning of his father’s identity wasn’t too much of a shock as he’d suspected it was a slave from another villa, but to know his name and that he may yet live had been of interest._

_That wasn’t what had him staring at a sheaf of papers in one hand and an untouched glass of whiskey in the other. “Are you positive, that this is correct?”_

_Josephine nodded once, her expression serious. “Of this I am certain Ambassador Hawke. I’ve had those vetted, double and triple checked. I even recalled an old favor from the Archon’s own vault keeper. Those papers confirm what happened after you were put to stud by ...your former master.”_

_Fenris took a drink and pushed the papers back as if they were going to bite. “I’m not fit...I can’t just show up in their lives and claim them. They’ve had fifteen years of the utter Void that is the life of a slave in Tevinter until what, the last five, six months? They won’t even know me Josephine!”_

_“No, but they have been freed and are on the way here per the order of the Inquisition and your request as their father. You should still have two weeks to ready yourself for meeting them Fenris. It’s not as if you’ll have showed up out of the blue. They have been prepared, as much as possible for meeting you. Perhaps you should speak with Anders, he has some experience with this.”_

_“His daughter ..is only ten summers old. They are nearly sixteen! They have been suddenly freed and are expected to meet someone they don’t know and are supposed to accept in their lives?” Fenris set his drink down with an unsteady hand and stared at her. “Josie, this...this is not something I can do. I’m the last person who should be in charge of children. I’ve not had a chance to grieve their siblings that .. I never knew.”_

_Josephine swore under her breath before she reached over to comfort the Tevinter elf. “Fenris, take a couple of days, sit with this and talk with Anders. He’ll have better advice than I could and likely will be better support for you. I’ve checked your schedule and aside from something at the end of the week with Dorian and Meneris, you’ve nothing too pressing that can’t be put off. Go to your spouses, you are no good to anyone right now.”_

_Fenris downed his drink and took up the packet of documents. “You’re right, I apologize for how I have behaved tonight. Forgive me Josie. I’ll see you tomorrow after lunch, by then I should be calmer.”_

_Josephine left him with a polite nod of her head and a last touch to his shoulder. “It will work out Fenris, just trust in those around you to be there for you.” Once she was gone, Fenris closed his office, and retreated to his room for the evening. Hopeful he could speak with his husband before too long had passed and he’d worked himself into a frenzy over the arrival of his two teens._

**  
He finally took a breath to steady himself and knocked on the door; hopeful that they were awake and that they’d want to even see him.

It was Ellowynne who heard the tentative tap at the door. Growing up in the Circle as one of many apprentices, the few months she’d been free of that life hadn’t yet shaken off the habits of the Circle - waking early, sleeping light. Although here in Skyhold it seemed there was far less to worry about from templars, she couldn’t shake an innate distrust of them - or indeed, _anyone_ in heavy plate armour.

She glanced up at her father; he was still deeply asleep, his face drawn and pale. She wouldn’t wake him, she decided - she knew he was in pain, even when he didn’t let on. She didn’t want to see him fighting to hide a grimace as he tried to rise from the bed. She slipped carefully from his side, moving cautiously as she could so as not to disturb him.

Uncle Vic was still asleep, she noticed. She pondered waking him; if it was trouble, then surely no-one would be able to beat _him_? After all, he was the First Enchanter, a battlemage, _and_ Daddy’s husband! But he’d looked so tired last night when they cuddled up to her father.

She’d go and check, and if it was trouble she was pretty certain she could scream loudly enough for help. If it was someone she couldn’t just toast with one of her fireballs, Daddy did say she was _very_ talented with those. (She tried to ignore the worried look he got whenever he’d said that.)

She padded on bare feet to the door and cautiously opened it a crack, then opened it a little wider when she saw who it was.

“Hello, Uncle Fenris!”

The elf was surprised to see Ellowynne, enough that he wondered about it. “Hello imp, why are you here and not your own room?” he asked quietly.

“Daddy was in pain and upset and Uncle Vic thought I ought to come. I think it’s a good thing I did. Daddy’s sleeping now, but I’m worried about him.” Her amber eyes as she stared up at Fenris were grave; she reminded Fenris very strongly of Anders, and for a moment he could almost picture Anders as a young apprentice.

“I see...maybe I should leave then if they’re sleeping. Can you tell your father I came by?” Fenris said with a wistful look at how Invictus and Anders had cuddled together. 

Ellowynne glanced at her father, then up at Fenris uncertainly. “I know Daddy probably ought to take another elfroot potion,” she said slowly. “Hal said he’d need one each morning for a while because he’ll wake up in pain. And Arden said Daddy mustn’t be stubborn but just take it and not argue.”

Fenris pushed the door open gently and went to the cabinet where he knew Invictus kept his potions. “Wake your father please, Imp.” 

She nodded and moved around the bed to gently shake her father. Anders made a faint moaning sound and then his eyes slowly opened. 

“Ellowynne?” he murmured groggily.

“Daddy, Uncle Fenris is here. You need to take your elfroot.”

“Fenris? Here?” said Anders as he struggled to sit up. 

“I am...if you don’t mind me having crow for breakfast and telling you both something that...I am not proud of withholding from you.” Fenris said as he approached with the potion in hand and the papers tucked under his arm.

Anders looked disoriented, his hair dishevelled from tossing and turning in his sleep. His face was far too pale, the usually-faint freckles standing out more clearly against the pallor of his face, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes as he stared at the elf.

“Has this got something to do with last night?” he asked quietly as Ellowynne climbed up on the bed to put her arm around him, being careful not to knock the arm in a sling. On the other side of Anders, Invictus was beginning to stir, the sounds of voices beginning to penetrate his own slumber.

“Somewhat, yes.” Fenris held out the potion and took a chair, unsure how they would react to his news. 

Invictus sat up and froze at the sight of the warrior. “Hi…”

Ellowynne took the potion from Fenris and uncorked it for Anders who nodded and smiled at her before downing it.

“All of it, Daddy,” reminded Ellowynne; Anders rolled his eyes good-naturedly but downed the whole thing with a faint grimace.

“May I speak?” Fenris asked as he held the documents in hand, ready to show them finally and explain himself.

Anders rubbed his eyes tiredly as Ellowynne took away the empty bottle. “Could you ask someone to send up a breakfast tray with coffee?” he asked. “From the looks of those papers and your face, I’m going to need more wits about me than I do right now. Those are Imperial crests and seals, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.” Fenris said as he tried hard not to fold and unfold them. “Are you asking me or Ellowynne to get a tray sent?”

“You,” replied Anders with a shrug. “You’re on your feet and nearest the door, and the guards will follow your directions more readily than they would hers.” He blinked groggily at the elf. “Sorry, elfroot taking a moment to kick in,” he added, realising his words had come out perhaps a little terser than he’d meant. He ducked his head and plucked restlessly at the quilt.

Fenris went and caught a passing guard with their request then took his seat. He sat there with his head bowed, almost afraid to talk.

“Fenris it can’t be that bad, stop looking like that.” Vic said as he made his way out of bed and to the basin to wash up.

Ellowynne had gone to the bag Invictus had brought from Anders’ room and was hunting through it for clean clothes for her father. Anders swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat watching her, a little bemused. She tugged out what she thought looked a suitable outfit then brought it over to help him dress; he willingly submitted to her attentions as she pulled and pushed him gently around to help him into a clean shirt, a tunic in Ferelden style, and a pair of dark grey pants. She carefully retied the sling for him, and then he watched as she tugged a pair of warm socks onto his long, narrow feet. He glanced up at Fenris a couple of times with a rueful grin.

“It is that bad, probably worse than you might expect.” Fenris said before the door opened and a guard dropped their tray off with a bow. “You should eat.”

“So should you.” Vic said as he emerged from behind the screen and went right to the platter, manners not present at all. 

“Sounds like I definitely want to be sat down with coffee and properly awake then,” said Anders as he got to his feet and he and Ellowynne joined them at the table. She’d dressed herself in a similar outfit to her father, only with a wrap-around skirt that fell to mid-calf. She sat next to Anders at the table and eagerly reached for a fresh hot roll that steamed slightly as she broke it open. 

Anders smiled at her indulgently as he poured himself a coffee with his good hand.

“Alright, what is this about then?” he asked once he’d had a good mouthful of coffee.

Fenris sat his coffee aside and held out the documents to both his spouses. He glanced at Ellowynne then back to the table as he explained himself. “You both know I was...used in varying ways when I was still in Minrathous. One of those was more like a prized mabari that needed to be, spread around shall we say. Turns out that I have children from those times I was ...put to use.” 

“You mean someone made you go with lots of women to make babies?” asked Ellowynne curiously, as she cut open another roll and spread it with butter for Anders. “That must have made you very tired, Uncle Fenris!”

Anders was staring at her with a faintly horrified air. “Ellowynne... where did you learn about such things?” he said softly.

“A couple of the older apprentices got pregnant after the templars took them away somewhere, and I overheard some of the other apprentices talking about it,” she shrugged as she reached for a cup of milk. She glanced up at Fenris. “Did they take the babies away? That’s what happened to Rachel’s baby. The templars wouldn’t let her keep it.”

Vic swore as hot coffee splashed his leg and he jumped up with a horrified stare at his step-daughter. 

Fenris was breathing hard, unable to reply as he tried to not get upset with her, she was a child; well as much as a Circle raised ten year old was. He just stared at Anders, unsure what to say once he could speak.

Anders drew Ellowynne to himself and hugged her gently with his good arm as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I promise you, Ellowynne, that no-one will ever take another mage’s baby away ever again. Leliana and I will make sure it never, ever happens, ever again. What happened to Rachel’s baby and to you was very wrong and it should never have been allowed to happen.” He drew away a little and looked down at her, and she glanced up at him. 

“But Ellowynne, such things are very upsetting to talk about, and I think Uncle Fenris probably feels how I did when I learned about you. You know how much I cried when I first saw you at Ostwick - but Uncle Zevran could tell you I was even more of a mess when I first learned. And I think Uncle Fenris is rather upset right now, so I think this is one of those times we talked about - remember, when we need to be quiet because someone has something they really need to talk about?”

Ellowynne nodded solemnly. “I understand, Daddy,” she agreed, then turned to Fenris. “I’m sorry, Uncle Fenris,” she said contritely.

“You...didn’t know imp.” Fenris said as he wiped at the tears that had fallen. He jumped when Invictus slipped in next to him and put his arm around the elf. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps I should look at these papers first?” suggested Anders gently. “And then we can talk once I have the full story?”

“If you want, but it’s simple really. I was used, and never told about any children that came from those times. I’d asked Josephine to check for me, and she got answers. I just...I’m sorry, I’ve been holding on to this for a while because I was scared to tell you, worried it would make me seem less in your eyes, or that you’d see my envy over what you have with Ellowynne.” Fenris turned and hid his face against Invictus’ shoulder as he waited to see what they would say. 

Anders was leafing through the papers one-handed. His expression was grave as his eyes scanned the elaborate copperplate script in Tevene, frowning slightly as he mentally translated some of the more archaic legal phrases. 

He finished reading the last missive, then sat back with a thoughtful look. “So... you have two living children, and they’re coming to Skyhold?” He glanced at Fenris. “I don’t blame you for being scared, love. I was nervous enough about meeting Ellowynne - but sixteen years old? That’s... they’re almost young adults.”

“The twins are sixteen, Daddy,” Ellowynne pointed out quietly, and Anders smiled faintly as he reached for his coffee. 

“What are you going to do?” he asked gently. “These letters and the report from Josie say that they set off from Tevinter two weeks ago; they’ll likely be here in another two weeks. That gives a little time to ready yourself. What do you need right now, love?”

“I don’t know...I can barely keep my own head right, what do I know of raising children?” Fenris asked in a panic. “I don’t know if I can face Zevran...unless he already knows, probably does. What do I do?” the elf realized he was breathing too fast and felt dizzy, too warm.

“You take a deep breath and calm down,” said Anders quietly. “You’re hyperventilating love. It’s going to be alright; it’s not as if you’re going to be alone. Nor will they expect you to try and act like a father right from the moment they arrive - you’ll be strangers to each other at first. So they get here, Josie will find rooms for them, you get to know them, and we all see where it goes from there. OK?”

Fenris stared at Anders as he got himself under control then nodded. “I can’t even let stress keep me from picking a fight with you all, how am I going to do this?” he asked quietly. 

“You could start by not shutting us out, love,” said Anders very gently. “This... you said you were envious. Of me? Is - is that why you -” He checked himself, keenly aware that Ellowynne was right next to him and unwilling to let her hear just how badly Fenris had been acting towards him recently. He knew Ellowynne was very fond of all her stepfathers, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“Maybe Ellowynne should go get cleaned up and headed to lessons? I can take her love.” Vic offered as he pressed a kiss to the elf’s cheek.

“That’s a good idea,” agreed Anders. He gave Ellowynne another kiss to the top of her hair. “Go run along with Uncle Vic, sweetheart, and be a good girl for him, OK?”

“I will, Daddy!” she promised. She turned to Fenris. “I’m looking forward to meeting your kids, Uncle Fenris. Will they be my cousins, or more like stepsiblings?”

“Ellowynne, go!” chided Anders with a smile. “Time to talk later - you don’t want to be late for class, now do you?”

“I won’t, Daddy!” she promised as she grabbed Invictus’ hand and started to tug him towards the door. “Come on Uncle Vic, it’s Force magic first lesson!”

Fenris waved her off and gave a smile that dropped as soon as the door shut. He looked over to Anders, his expression moroseful. “I’m stupid, I’m sorry.”

Anders had dropped his gaze to his plate and the crumbed remnants of his breakfast. “You resented me because I found my daughter, and you were taking it out on me, weren’t you?” he said quietly.

“Not ...quite. It was, envy and fear. I don’t know if it’s resentment. Don’t hate me, please.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders shook his head. “I don’t hate you, love. I never did. I was hurt, angry that you kept taking your anger out on me - but hate? Never.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then rested his elbow on the table and dropped his head to rest against it. “Maker. Hearing Ellowynne talk about... about that, the - the templars, what they....” 

He gave a stifled sob, and suddenly his shoulders were shaking and Fenris realised Anders was crying very quietly.

The elf came over and gathered Anders in his embrace and tried to comfort the mage. “I’m sorry.” Fenris held the mage until he felt the shaking stop and he could rest his head against the other man’s shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

“I’ll be alright in a minute,” Anders answered quietly, his voice still rather shaky. “Maker, at least I held it together until she’d gone.” He swallowed hard. 

Fenris kissed him gently then sat back. “She’s a smart girl, she probably knows more than you like though about the hard things in life Anders, I know that too well.” he looked away with a sigh. “Now that I have confessed this, I should go see Zevran before I break my word; he wanted me to bring him breakfast.” 

“I’d like to come with you - I want to check how he’s healing,” replied Anders, wiping at his eyes with his good hand.

“If you want, I’d like someone there when I tell him, if he doesn’t already know.” Fenris said shakily. He picked up the letters and tapped them as he gathered his thoughts. “What if they hate me for not finding them sooner?” 

“Fenris, do you think Ellowynne hated me for not finding her sooner? What make you think they even know who their father is?” asked Anders. “Without Josie’s help, would _you_ have been able to find out anything about your family?” He smiled at the elf gently. “Does Nakusa - forgive me, Aeolus - hate you for not coming to find him? Did you resent him for not finding _you_?”

“No! I don’t resent that of my brother. I didn’t even remember him until we found him. I don’t know if he ever hated me for it, I never asked because it would have broken my heart for him to have said yes.” Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Forgive me, the more I think on it, the worse I panic. I think I need to go flying later to get my head clear.” 

“I don’t think he resents you at all, love,” Anders reassured him. “He even forgave you for how you reacted when you rescued me from Varania.”

“I can hope so. Come, we shouldn’t delay any longer, I need to get him breakfast on the way.” Fenris pocketed the documents and rose to get Anders a potion. “Here, you’ll need it.” 

Anders nodded as he got to his feet. “I’ve a feeling you’re right,” he sighed. He took the potion, tucking it into his sling for the time being before nodding to Fenris to lead the way.

Zevran was already awake when they reached the infirmary; he looked as though he had had a restless night, but his eyes lit up when he saw Fenris and Anders, though he looked at the blond healer’s sling with concern.

“It’s alright, it’s just a simple break,” Anders reassured him. “I just need to take it easy for a while and let it heal.”

“Hi carissimi, sorry that I am late and that Invictus isn’t here. He took Ellowynne to class, it’s my fault.” Fenris said as he set the tray over the other elf’s lap and removed covers. He said nothing as he waited for Zevran to eat.

“Ah, you were laying a-bed, _carissimi_?” Zevran grinned. “And Anders with a broken arm too! I trust you were taking care of him, yes?” He winked at Fenris before turning his attention to his food.

“Actually, Invictus was taking care of him. I was ….I was not well last night, I barely slept for something I have kept from you all and in turned, picked a fight with Anders over.” Fenris admitted as he kept his gaze to the floor and hoped the other elf didn’t yell at him.

“Ah,” said Zevran quietly. “Would it help if I said I believe I know at least part of that story and what troubles you, _carissimi_? Josie has made much use of my own particular talents and contacts since I took over from our dear Divine. Not enough to perhaps piece together the whole story, but enough, yes?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ve been terrified since I found out about them. Then you know, the girl is a mage?” Fenris asked quietly.

Zevran nodded. “I do. It was not easy to secure her release from the magister who had her papers. It was necessary to... _eliminate_ him,” he answered with a brief, savage grin. “I could not do it myself of course, but let us say I know people who owe me favours, and this particular magister had made plenty of enemies. She is thankfully unharmed. Maevaris took her into her care and has seen she is decently fed and clothed and appropriately taught how to control her magic, though she will benefit more when she reaches us.”

The mention of Magister Tilani had Fenris’ eyes narrowing but he held the first thing that came to mind, barely. “When they arrive, make sure whatever magister tricks she’s learned are undone as soon as it’s feasible. I will not have her taught the ways of her oppressors.” Fenris said as he sat back.

“I think that Anders will likely take over her training, my heart,” replied Zevran quietly. “Your daughter is a healer. I think if anyone can undo what the magisters have done then it is he, yes?”

Anders shifted slightly from his position near the door with a small smile, but said nothing.

“You’ll probably like my son then, seems he already fell in with some rogues and is pretty deft with his hands if the report I got is accurate.” Fenris said.

“I look forward to assessing his skills then,” Zevran grinned. “I was a little surprised the Crows had not tried to buy him when I saw the initial report - but I am also glad they did not. I would not wish my life upon anyone - at least, not that part. The later parts? Much more agreeable.”

“I am glad for it as well. I should probably speak with Meneris, I’ve avoided them for a while as it is.” Fenris said as he reached for his coffee finally. “Someone thought they were witty naming them.” 

“The names they give slaves in the Imperium, I have no doubt someone thinks them witty,” replied Zevran, shrugging carefully. “A name from a story, used to poke fun. A name of an animal famed for its savagery.”

“Explains my name then.” Fenris muttered. “Vulpine and Callus...maybe they will want to change them now they are free.” 

“‘Thick-skinned’ - ah, yes, he would have to be; a stubborn boy, that suggests,” mused Zevran. “And, hmm - ‘little fox’...” He grinned. “A sly little vixen, witty and sharp. You must beware of her teeth, _carissimi_!”

“If she’s anything like me, or ...her aunt I will have to be wary of more than her teeth or with. I don’t know what I’ll do if she looks too much like my sister.” Fenris replied softly before he stood to go.

“Love, if she looks like Varania, we will look past it to see _her_ ,” said Anders quietly. “She may react much as Aeolus did when we first freed him - wary and watchful. They both may, though it seems they’ll have had a month of freedom at least. But we all know it’ll take longer than that for them to adjust.” He blinked, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “We should send a message to your brother actually. He should know he has a niece and nephew.”

“Sure...we should do that. I’m just afraid of how I’ll react, if I can contain myself if she reminds me of...her. Let me take that tray and I’m going to find Meneris, if you’ll excuse me.” Fenris said as he leaned over to get the laptray. 

Zevran reached up with his good hand and draped it around Fenris’ neck to draw him down into a kiss. “I will not remain a-bed in this room, _carissimi_ ,” he breathed in Fenris’ ear. “I have not forgotten there are at least two more assassins loose in Skyhold.” He released the other elf and lay back against the pillows before glancing to Anders. “Come, our healer - declare me fit to go, at least to our own rooms; for I warn you I will sleep there tonight whether Parcival releases me or no.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” replied Anders firmly as he pushed himself away from the wall and crossed over to stand beside the bed.

“Don’t over exert yourself love, I’ll see you both later. Thank you for hearing me out, I was worried I’d gone too far.” Fenris said before he headed off to find the Inquisitor.

Zevran grinned unrepentantly at Anders, who sighed.

“If I agree to let you leave the infirmary, will you at least agree to come stay in my rooms for the time being where I can keep an eye on you?” he asked.

“We can have matching slings and be invalids together, yes?” grinned Zevran. Anders groaned.

“I will be so glad when I can discharge you,” he muttered. “Please don’t make me regret this....”

 

***

Fenris went to look for Meneris but found Dorian working on things for their ambassadorial work in the Inquisitor’s office instead. “Surprised to find you here.”

The Tevinter Altus set his quill aside and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking up with a tired smile. “I don’t actually have an office of my own, and now I’m formally the Tevinter Ambassador I suddenly find I need one. I’m expected to deal with paperwork, of all things. The library isn’t really suitable and whilst my own rooms are cosy enough, they’re not really spacious enough to work in.” He sat back and gestured at Meneris’ rooms. “So, here I am until Josie finds me somewhere more suitable.” 

“You know we could share my office? Unless you’d rather have your own?” Fenris said as he sat down and debating telling Dorian his news. 

“Josie’s been talking about claiming Solas’ old room and putting me there,” Dorian shrugged. “These things take time though, and Meneris likes being able to keep an eye on me I think - particularly with the prospect of assassins on the loose who may be hunting Inquisition mages. They haven’t attacked me yet, but then I’ve been here with Meneris since the attack on Zevran. They haven’t attacked the infirmary either - but Cullen’s stationed extra guards, as you’ve doubtless already noticed.”

“Been a little distracted, as you saw when I turned tail and ran off.” Fenris said as he pulled the documents out and sat them on the desk. “I’ve things to tell you and Meneris, if you know where he is, perhaps we can go see him?”

Dorian drew the documents towards himself, arching one eyebrow in surprise as he recognised the seals. “These are from the Archon’s archives!” he remarked. He leafed through them slowly, then glanced up at Fenris. “I gather that congratulations are in order, amicus? Does Aeolus know yet, or would you like assistance notifying him?”

“I don’t know if congratulations is what I’d say. How about I hope you aren’t an utter failure?” Fenris laughed mirthlessly. “He doesn’t know, I just came clean to Anders, Invictus and Fenris this morning. I’ve been sitting on this for a while. I’m terrified.” he admitted.

Dorian leaned over and opened a drawer, pulling out a small box. He opened it and set a silver ring set with an opaque cabochon stone in front of Fenris. “Dagna and I have been working on these,” he explained. “They’re speaking stones - they come in pairs. I gave the matching ring to this one to your brother shortly before he left; I meant to give this one to you, amicus, but what with one thing or another hadn’t yet had the opportunity. You have but to speak his name and he will hear it; it will allow you to converse whenever you wish.”

Fenris picked it up and stared at it for awhile. “Dorian…” 

“You won’t be a failure, amicus,” said Dorian gently. “And I think fear is understandable under the circumstances. Talk to your brother. Perhaps he can return to be here when they arrive, hmm? That might be reassuring to them, to know they have family.”

Fenris swallowed as he slid the ring on and stared at it. “I don’t know if I want him here, not until I get to know them. I...feel self-conscious as it is, I don’t need my older sibling here while I find my footing. Nothing against him, I just feel like such a child with him around.” he just stared at the ring, touched at the trouble Dorian had gone through for them. 

“Well, at the very least you should talk to him,” suggested Dorian. “Perhaps this evening after dinner? Take a little private time maybe.”

“Maybe, I’m not doing so well to be honest. Everything feels so mixed up in my head right now and my usual...method of working through it isn’t available anymore so I’ve been bottling things up again.” Fenris finally looked to Dorian with a slight grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to get heavy, I was simply looking for your husband.” 

“I quite understand,” nodded Dorian. “I’ve been feeling pretty frayed about the edges myself, frankly. Yesterday’s attack on Zevran, coming so soon after Hal’s little melt-down - well, let’s just say I’m hoping that when Meneris and I go away for our honeymoon it will be very quiet and extremely boring. I think we could all use a little more boredom around here, frankly.”

“You’re leaving soon aren’t you? Has this whole thing delayed your trip?” Fenris asked as he let his thumb smooth over the ring as they spoke.

“A little; certainly it’s pushed back the diplomatic mission by a good month at least,” nodded Dorian. “I think Meneris and I may be slipping away quietly for a couple of weeks before that now, instead of after as we’d originally planned. Calpernia has gone on ahead to make preparations with Maevaris; that much proceeds as planned - but a little more planning and preparation there won’t go amiss.” He shrugged. “As the official Ambassador from Tevinter I can state that I am happy to put official business on hold and defer the Grand Enchanter’s state visit to the Magisterium for a period of two months, and in the meantime I am cultivating my working relationship with the Inquisition Ambassador to Tevinter - namely you.” He grinned.

“You sound so official, proper about all this.” Fenris huffed a laugh as he looked to his fellow ambassador. “Why did he do it? Really why me of all people to be a representative of the Inquisition? I’m probably the least diplomatic person here besides Invictus.” 

Dorian sighed. “Because he trusts you, perhaps, and he knows we will work well together. And perhaps to cock a snoot at the magisters? I honestly couldn’t say. I have no choice in the matter; my father had already pulled strings and had me named the Tevinter Ambassador to the Inquisition without so much as a by-your-leave and I’m pretty much stuck with it, which means so is Meneris. I think he feels that at least whilst working with you, I can hop between here and Tevinter at a moment’s notice.” He sighed again. “I do wonder though if Meneris really did any of you any favours by granting you these positions. Anders seems to become more and more miserable every time I see him. Invictus - well, he thrives when teaching his battlemages, but I think he finds the role of First Enchanter somewhat testing. I think it’s only Zevran who can truly be said to have wholeheartedly embraced his new position.” He frowned slightly as he tapped a finger on the table thoughtfully. 

“It’s not often you’ll hear me say that I think Meneris has gotten something wrong - but on this occasion, I think he did. I know he was advised by Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine, but I really have my misgivings - particularly where you and Anders are concerned. I don’t think either of you are at all comfortable or happy about your new stations, are you?” Dorian regarded Fenris with worry in his grey eyes.

“I think Anders does too much, he’s worried about it. I think sadly the injury will give him a respite he desperately needs. I don’t know how I feel other than dread about going to visit Tevinter again. I’d rather change my mind than embarrass the Inquisition more than I do by being here. But as I’ve been told, more often than I’ve ever wanted to hear that I need to grow up. I’m going to try at least Dorian, I can’t quit before we’ve even had one chance at it, right?” Fenris stretched in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t survived that ritual that marked me.” he said very quietly.

Dorian leaned forward and laid a hand gently over Fenris’. “I don’t think anyone gave you a choice of refusing this position, amicus, but you do still have the right to refuse. Meneris would have no choice but to accede by your wishes; he cannot _force_ you to go, not when doubtless there would be others with more experience and willingness.”

“I...want to, if just to prove those fucking magisters wrong. I know part of it has to be because of my past, what it means to send a former slave back in a position of authority. I’m also stressed, worried and like I said my usual means of working this out, clearing my head isn’t an...option. Even flying hasn’t helped. I’m probably overthinking and making it worse than it is, seems to be a speciality of mine.” Fenris kept his gaze on the ceiling, looking over the intricate patterns as he listened.

Dorian snorted. “Perhaps you should haved talked to Calpernia before she left - after all, she was a slave as well. Though I suppose by rising to leadership of the Venatori she’d already gotten fairly good at the whole politics business anyway.” He shook his head. “Fenris, all thoughts of _should_ and _ought_ aside, what is it that you _want_ to do?”

“You’ll laugh if I tell you.” replied the elf. “I want to go back to being a mercenary sometimes, all this responsibility, more of it coming with the children I didn’t know about. Sometimes I just want to run far, far away and never look back. But I can’t abandon the life I have now, it’s just too much sometimes.” 

“I shan’t deny that life was far simpler when all we had to worry about was tracking down rifts for Meneris to close, the occasional band of Venatori, and - Maker, even the odd dragon here and there,” agreed Dorian. “Corypheus was a threat, but sometimes I almost think I’d rather deal with him over again and leave all the politicking to the likes of Josephine and Leliana.” He sighed wistfully. “I dare say that if he could trust to all his reforms being enacted, Anders would disappear quite happily into obscurity as just another mage.”

“I know he would, we’d planned to go to Nevarra and live quietly before all this happened.” Fenris said unhappily. “That won’t ever happen now, will it?”

“I don’t know,” said Dorian slowly. “Meneris was rather disturbed by what happened in the infirmary, I must say. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s seriously rethinking the whole idea of Anders as Grand Enchanter. I know he’s written urgently to Leliana on the matter.”

“If he’s taken out of his post, it will destroy him to think he failed. Maybe, I don’t know, but he shouldn’t be rash about it.” Fenris replied.

“Perhaps I should persuade Meneris to talk to Anders first then. They’ll have to discuss postponing the State visit in any case,” replied Dorian as he reached for the half-empty bottle of wine upon the desk and refilled his glass, then gestured towards Fenris, an eyebrow arching in mute query. 

“No thank you, maybe later. I’m already kind of tense, I don’t need to add to it. I get...I can be an angry drunk, no one needs that.” Fenris said as he watched Dorian. 

“Maudlin or simply sleepy seems to be more my thing,” mused Dorian. “I’m very far from that point however.” He sat back as he set the bottle down, then sipped from his glass. “It was Meneris you wanted to talk to, rather than I, wasn’t it? I think he was down in the war room with Cullen and Cassandra, but he should be up here soon.”

“I don’t mind talking with you...I admit I’ve been kind of avoiding you both since the incident with Hal, then after the infirmary. I really don’t want him to hit me again.” Fenris replied. 

Dorian chuckled quietly. “You must admit, amicus, you rather invited that one, and I think it was the only way he could have gotten you to sit down and pay attention at that point,” he remarked. “I’ve seen him in that mood before and it is generally best to shut up and listen when he uses that voice. But I don’t think you’re likely to push it again, are you? Now, what was it you wanted to talk to him about, anyway? That whole...” he waved a hand vaguely in the air, “ _thing_ that happened in the infirmary? What _was_ that, by the by?”

“I don’t like being hit Dorian, even when I play rough.” Fenris said as he reached for the wine and poured half a glass before continuing. “No, I wanted to discuss my...children.” he paused and took another sip. “It’s so strange to say, but I wanted to discuss how this changes things but since he’s already delayed the political visit, it’s not really necessary. I don’t want to think about or speak on what happened in the infirmary, ever.” 

“Best I warn you now then that Meneris will expect either you or Anders to tell him, and if he doesn’t get it from you then he’s unlikely to let Anders go until he’s got it from him,” said Dorian quietly. “Whatever it was had you fleeing as though an entire legion of demons were on your heels - and resulted in Anders’ arm being broken. Meneris won’t let that one rest with ‘I don’t want to talk about it’, I’m afraid.” He lifted his head and stared towards the door. “And that’s his foot upon the stairs, unless I miss my mark,” he added warningly.

“Want to open a portal so I can run away?” Fenris half joked. 

Dorian laughed. “You don’t need _my_ help for that, amicus!” he grinned as the door opened.

“Need your help for what, love?” asked the Inquisitor as he entered. “Ah, Fenris! Good. Just who I wanted to speak to.”

“Inquisitor Lavellan, I was just le- OW!” Fenris turned and gave Dorian a glare when he felt the pinch to his side. 

“You alright there, amicus?” inquired Dorian innocently. “Got a stitch? I understand they can be quite painful. Maybe you should just sit quietly, have a glass of wine.” He dropped his gaze back to his papers as he reached for his own glass.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call it Pavus since it’s such a pain.” Fenris muttered as he turned to Meneris. “I’d come looking for you but it seems you already delayed going to Tevinter so that was all I needed.” 

“Fenris...you are a terrible liar, come and sit with us, we are friends aren’t we?” Meneris said as he poured a glass of wine and sat down.

“I...yes I suppose we are friends.” Fenris said as he rubbed his side. “I’m sure you and Dorian have important...husband things to discuss. I can just go.”

“Fenris, don’t do this again.” Meneris warned.

“I think I’m done with these papers, love,” said Dorian as he straightened and began shuffling them together. “I’ll go drop these off with Josie. Did you want me to go look for Anders for you?” He gave Fenris a meaningful look.

Fenris gave Dorian a look reminiscent of when he loathed the Altus. “Sit Dorian, you are not slick. _I’m going to get you for that, when you least expect it._ ” he muttered.

“ _I’m sure you will, amicus, but Meneris will have the truth one way or the other; wouldn’t you rather spare Anders this?_ ” Dorian replied in rapid-fire Tevene. “Josie _is_ waiting for these you know. Maker knows, she’s probably got even more to bury me under by now.”

“Just don’t kill him, whatever you plan for revenge. I’d like to keep my husband in one piece for a while.” Meneris said with a wink to his Altus. “Go on love, I’ll find you once we’re done talking.”

“I’m sure it won’t be _too_ painful; after all, I _did_ just give him the means to speak with his brother whenever they wish,” Dorian smiled. He rose to his feet and made his way around the desk to brush a kiss to the Inquisitor’s cheek before giving Fenris a quick wink then headed towards the door.

Meneris waited until he heard the door close before he looked to the other elf. “So, care to tell me why you ran out like the Void had opened behind you and half the demons of the Fade were about to pop out.” 

Fenris’ face paled, almost as though said Void had just opened right behind the elven Inquisitor himself. He very briefly debated simply refusing to answer, until he remembered Anders in his arms that morning, shaking and crying, and he knew that he couldn’t make his husband face that in his stead. He drew a breath. “Were you aware that Anders harbours a... a spirit of healing?” he asked slowly. “And that she ... possesses him sometimes?”

“Yes, believe me Cullen and I have had our hands full for a while trying to keep some templars from trying to exorcise him. I know he’s not dangerous, and if not for her Hal wouldn’t be with us or able to still see. Why?” Meneris asked as he topped up the other elf’s drink. “You look like you need it.”

“ _Venhedis_ , perhaps I do at that,” admitted Fenris. “By the time you reached the infirmary, she had possessed him without warning or his consent - and then when I took his hand, she temporarily possessed _me_. I could not free myself, and I was aware of Anders desperately begging, pleading with her to release him and let him go.”

“I take it that was part of what had you so panicked?” Meneris asked. Fenris nodded, shakily.

“The thought that his... spirit... is so powerful as to be able to possess _two_ people? And I’m not even a mage?” He shuddered. “Yes, I panicked.”

“Do you think he’s in danger, or you? Is it worth discussing with him once he’s healed up more? I don’t want to upset him further, or you. I don’t like being at odds with you Fenris, I realize you’ve been avoiding me and Dorian since that incident in your room.” Meneris said as he glanced at the documents the warrior had left out. “Is that what you actually wanted to see me about?” 

Fenris glanced to the documents, then slowly nodded. “That... yes. Concerning the spirit however - it worries me that the spirit possessed him and disregarded his pleas to be let go. I cannot help but remember how over time the spirit of Justice that possessed him for a time back in Kirkwall became perverted into a demon of Vengeance before it was... drawn out of him in Arden’s Kirkwall by the spirit possessing their version of Anders. And I worry that this spirit’s possessing of us both may be the first signs of this spirit likewise becoming corrupted.”

“Well, once Anders is rested up, let’s talk to him. We don’t need to make him even more stressed out than he is while he’s injured. It won’t be long, but we need to discuss it and if he honestly wants to be Grand Enchanter, since he’s seemed to decline since taking the office.” Meneris said.

“I think perhaps we should discuss this sooner,” replied Fenris heavily. “At least his role as Grand Enchanter. If he were to decide to step down, it would be better for him to do so before setting foot in Tevinter. And... I fear for his state of mind whether he stays or goes.” 

“I just worry he will consider himself a failure if I bring this to him so soon after the infirmary incident. You know him well, would he take it that way if I asked him to reconsider the post?” Meneris asked.

“I know he would,” nodded Fenris. “And yet, you heard him as well as I did when he fled. He called himself an abomination, a monster. I fear he already considers himself a failure in that regard. And I...” Fenris frowned, remembering vaguely something he had heard Anders and Invictus speak of a couple of nights previously. He had been half asleep himself, but now he thought on it, he had a recollection of Anders speaking in anguished tones of how he felt unsuited to the role and yet felt he had no choice - that he had never been really given one. “I think maybe, he might inwardly be relieved to have the decision taken from his hands; he was never really given much option in the first place, and I think that if he could be assured that his proposed reformation of the Circle and the Colleges would still go ahead, he would step aside gladly.”

“Then where does that leave him? We’ve already promoted Invictus to First Enchanter, I worry without a title, he’d be a target for anyone who got it in their head to come after him.” Meneris said. 

“I do not know,” Fenris admitted with a sigh.

“Before I remove anyone, or make a decision, let’s see what Anders actually wants, hmm? Now what will you do about your children, they’ll be here soon based on the dates on that letter.” Meneris offered him more wine with a grin.

“Two weeks, Ambassador Josephine said,” nodded Fenris. “The boy will study with Zevran I think; Zevran says the girl is a healer and should be taught by Anders. They spent some time with Magister Tilani; Void only knows what habits Vulpine will have picked up,” he added with a disgusted grimace.

“Hopefully she didn’t realize you were their father; I can’t imagine she’d do them any favors. We’ll make sure they have what they need, be it their own rooms or to share. I’m guessing at their age, they’ll prefer their own space. What do you need regarding them?” Meneris asked. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Fenris frankly. “What does one do when meeting their - their children under such circumstances? I know very little of fatherhood. It seems to come almost naturally to Anders, and Invictus has the memories of his own family, but I have been a slave all my life - I never knew my father, though now at last I have his name.”

“Do you need some time to yourself? Or do you want to talk more? Like I said I don’t want to be at odds with you.” Meneris asked.

Fenris opened his mouth to speak but paused as he heard voices on the stairs outside the room; a moment later, it opened and Dorian reappeared, Anders a step behind him and, to their surprise, Zevran bringing up the rear.

The Altus made his way over to the desk and set down another pile of papers with a rueful look before he turned and brought over two more chairs for Anders and Zevran.

“A jailbreak of sorts, I fancy,” remarked Dorian. “I found the pair of them on my way to Josie’s office; could have sworn Zevran was supposed to yet be a-bed.”

“They were going to Anders’ rooms if I recall.” Fenris said softly before taking his wine and settling in his chair. 

Anders took a seat, a guilty expression crossing his face whilst Zevran lounged in a chair, quite unconcerned.

“I understand you wanted to discuss the diplomatic mission to Tevinter, Meneris,” Anders said after a moment. “I’m sorry my injury has rather knocked that back. I imagine it’s probably causing you headaches, given how demanding the Imperium can be.” He dropped his gaze to the floor.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’d rather hold off with both my Spymaster and Grand Enchanter laid up right now and two more assassins on the loose. I wanted to check on you as well, you’re important to the Inquisition but your health and well being comes first Anders.” Meneris said as he leaned back to watch the other man’s reaction.

As he spoke, his keen eyes noticed Anders almost flinch when he mentioned the blond healer’s title; it was a brief movement, swiftly checked, and if he hadn’t been staring at Anders to watch his reaction he might have missed it completely.

“It wasn’t Cullen’s fault,” Anders said hastily. “Just an accident. We both fell, and in his armour he’s rather heavier than I am. Just bad luck he landed right where I’ve had a number of breaks in the past is all.” He shrugged, not quite looking up.

“I was asking more about your health overall, but something seems to bother you when I said your title. Be honest, are you unhappy with your post Anders? I don’t want you to be unhappy here, and don’t take it as me being displeased. I want the Inquisition, whatever it winds up being to be led by people who want ..no that sounds just as bad. Basically, are you happy or do you want to do something different?” Meneris finally asked. 

Anders lifted his head slowly, and swallowed hard. “Are... are you asking me to resign?” he asked softly. “The College - Leliana and I, we have plans, it’s... there’s still so much to do, I can’t - are, are you asking me to step down?” he asked, a slightly panicked note creeping into his voice.

“No, I am asking if you are happy with being Grand Enchanter. If you are and you want to remain that’s all I needed to know. If you’re not, then tell me what I can do to make things work better for you Anders.” Meneris sighed.

“He’s not turning you out Anders, don’t think that.” Fenris added.

Anders glanced to Fenris, then back to Meneris, biting his lip. “I - I _have_ to do this - the reforms, they’re what Kirkwall was for in the first place!” He threaded his hand into his hair and bowed his head. “I have to see this through, don’t you see? There’s no other way to make this work. It’s - seeing the Circle thrown aside, a new way brought in - it’s all I’ve wanted, fought for, for _years_. I can’t give up on that now! No matter the cost, I _have_ to see this through!”

“Calm down Anders, no one is doubting you. You’re already hurt,and I’m not trying to make it worse.” Meneris reached out to reassure him, worried he was just making things much harder. Zevran had reached out wordlessly to gently squeeze Anders’ shoulder in silent reassurance as Anders bit back a low sob.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” the blond mage whispered. “For doubting me. After what you saw yesterday - Maker, I’m an abomination, a _thing_ , possessed and I can’t control it. Just - just let me see these reforms through, the College founded. What happens after doesn’t matter, as long as I can make one good thing come out of the monstrous carnage I caused in Kirkwall. I can die happy if I know I’ve made amends for that.”

“No one said all that Anders, please stop this. Meneris only asked out of concern for you.” Fenris said as he knelt before the other man. 

“I just made this worse, it's what I did, Creators help me find the right words.” Meneris rubbed at his face and sighed.

Dorian had laid his papers aside and hastily splashed wine into a glass which he now pressed into Anders’ good hand. He glanced to Meneris.

“I’ll fetch Invictus,” he said quietly before he turned and headed for the stairs, nearly - but not quite - at a run.

Zevran had shifted his chair to sit pressed against Anders, one arm slung around the mage’s waist as he murmured quietly to him. Anders’ shoulders were shaking, his head bowed; the only words any of them could make out were a frantic “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” between the shuddering sobs and gasps for breath.

Meneris counted to ten in his head before he rose to go to the mage. “Anders, please look at me.” 

Anders drew a shuddering breath then slowly lifted his head to stare back at Meneris with red-rimmed eyes. He was tense, fighting to control his sobs.

“How about you go rest? I’m not asking you to resign, I’m not kicking out of the Inquisition. I just wanted to check and be sure you were fine with your post. That was all.” Meneris said softly.

“He feels he has no choice,” said Zevran softly. “He is unhappy. But he can see no other way to achieve the change he needs so that children like his daughter will not fear rape by templars or that their children will be stolen away.”

Anders crumpled, sobbing so hard he could barely breath, ragged gasps shaking his slender frame as he all but collapsed against Zevran, who held him gently and stared at Meneris. 

“So, Inquisitor. What can you do for this? Is there a way to ensure his reforms take place, that the mages are safe - including both himself and his daughter - yet allow him to recover and heal?” The Antivan held Meneris’ gaze steadily.

“His reforms were never in danger of not happening Zevran, not with him and Leliana working toward that very goal.” Meneris replied.

“So. They will continue, regardless of whether he is the Grand Enchanter or not - is that what you are saying?” pressed Zevran, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes Zevran, that’s what I’m saying.” Meneris replied with his own glare.

Fenris had risen to stand behind his husband and try to be out of the way. 

Zevran nodded slowly. “I think that was all he needed to hear, Inquisitor,” he said softly, as Anders gave a broken sigh and then slumped into Zevran’s arms, his eyes closed as his sobbing became quieter. The Antivan ran a hand slowly through Anders’ dishevelled hair. “We will have his answer to you by week’s end, Inquisitor. I think it is clear what it shall be however.”

He didn’t look around as Invictus suddenly burst into the room with a look of alarm, Dorian only a step or two behind.

“Why is he crying?” Invictus asked as he leaned in to check on his husband. 

Meneris pinched the bridge of his nose and forced the snarky reply he had on his tongue to stay down. “I asked if he was happy as Grand Enchanter and he thought I wanted him to resign.” 

“Can we just leave?” Fenris asked unhappily.

“I think that would be for the best,” nodded Zevran. “Meneris, you will have Anders’ reply by week’s end. I would advise you send word to Val Royeaux.”

“I would hope he doesn’t make a rash decision, I’m not asking for resignation, I just wanted to know if he was happy in his position was all.” Meneris said tiredly.

“I think you have your answer to that already,” replied Zevran.

“Fine, just… take care of him.” Meneris replied as he felt Dorian’s arm around his waist.

“Let’s just go Zevran, please?” Fenris begged.

The Antivan nodded. “Invictus, would you assist me? I don’t think I can manage Anders alone,” he suggested.

“Let me, you’ve got your own injuries to deal with.” Invictus said as he got Anders to his feet and led him back to his rooms with Zevran right behind them and Fenris bringing up the rear.

Four days later, a piece of parchment with Anders’ graceful script appeared upon Meneris’ desk.

The word went out immediately to Val Royeaux. It would take some time to find a new Grand Enchanter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting doesn't go as planned and someone is a bit too much like their sire for everyone's comfort.

Since Fenris couldn’t sleep, he had gone out to walk the battlements rather than keeping Zevran awake. Vulpine and Callus would be arriving by breakfast the next day, and his worry was keeping him wide awake.

He paced the battlements slowly, pulling his cloak tight about himself as the icy night wind, chill off the frozen flanks of the Frostback Mountains, whisked about the cold battlements, his breath steaming in the frigid air.

It was quiet at this late hour, save for the quiet calls of the sentries as they passed one another. There was still a heightened presence amongst the guard; the two unknown assassins had still not been found, and Cullen had ordered the guard doubled until they were. Fenris could see the Commander from here, Cullen’s outline unmistakable in the torchlight with that great furred mantle as he strode slowly along the battlements by the gate, sleep evidently elusive for him as well this night.

Fenris made his way to the Commander, and rested against the cold stones. “Can’t sleep either?” 

“Cassandra was having a rough night,” Cullen shrugged. “I thought I’d come out for some fresh air and let her get some sleep without me tossing and turning next to her. This pregnancy’s been a little hard on her thus far.”

“The place will be overrun with children soon.” Fenris said as he shivered when a gust of wind passed by them. 

“It certainly seems so,” nodded Cullen. “The wave of twin births had us worried at first but Anders assures us that Cass is only carrying the one. A little girl, he reckons.” A fond expression dawned on the Commander’s face. “It seems that with the final victory over Corypheus, quite a few people, ah, celebrated.”

“So I gathered.” Fenris said as he shivered again. “Care to join me in the Great Hall? It has to be warmer than up here.” 

Cullen glanced back towards his own quarters. “I, ah... yes, why not?” he nodded.

Fenris hurried back inside and went right to a table near a fireplace, glad for the warmth. “I should have stayed inside to begin with, I hate cold weather.” he said as he held his hands out to get warm. 

“I shouldn’t tarry too long,” said Cullen. “I don’t like to leave Cass by herself too much now she’s this far along. But I shan’t deny a cup of mulled cider would be good.”

Almost as if there was a someone waiting in the wings, two full mugs of mulled cider were set by them along with a serving of chips, which the kitchen staff knew were Cullen’s favorite. The Commander exclaimed with almost boyish delight and offered one to Fenris.

“You must be pretty nervous about tomorrow, I guess?” he asked as they made their way over to the empty chairs near the glowing embers by the fire.

“Why do you think I’m still up?” Fenris said as he took his drink and sighed happily at the warmth. “I might faint, or throw up or just panic, who knows?”

“Zevran tells me that the evening before arriving at Ostwick, Anders did all three, but managed not to actually faint or throw up when he finally met Ellowynne. Just wept a lot.” Cullen took a sip of his cider and gave an appreciative sigh. “Fenris, I shouldn’t expect too much of tomorrow. Two rather nervous teenagers who were slaves a month ago are going to show up and not know who in the Void any of us are. Your face may seem at least vaguely familiar if there’s a family resemblance, and you do at least speak their native tongue which will put them at ease. Beyond that? I wouldn’t borrow trouble, my friend.”

“I’m worried Vulpine will look too much like Var---my sister and I’ll react poorly. Did Vic ever tell you of what happened between us?” Fenris asked.

“No, can’t say as he did,” said Cullen as he leaned forward in his chair, his tankard held between his hands. “Nothing good, I gather from your tone?”

Fenris shook his head and stared into his drink. “She betrayed me to my former master, kidnapped Anders to help with Nakusa and is still running free far as I know.” 

“That does ring a bell,” said Cullen slowly. “I remember Anders commenting something about being stabbed with magebane in the shoulder in Tevinter and it never entirely healing right or something.”

“Yes, and that is a hurt that’s stayed with me even with all we’ve done. Finding Nakusa again, it was good to know I had some blood kin that had not turned on me. I am just nervous about this. I’m not, I don’t know how to care for myself, how am I going to care for them?” Fenris hated how his voice waivered but it was easier to be be open with just the two of them.

“Fenris - you’re not. This isn’t a pair of kids you suddenly have to raise on your own,” pointed out Cullen. “These are two near-adults who are coming to live at Skyhold under the auspices of the Inquisition, which will give you the chance to get to know them. They’re not going to expect you to take care of them - Maker, if I know anything, it’s that they’d likely resent you for it if you tried. Just give them space, give them a chance to know you, and see where things lead.” He regarded Fenris with concern. “You’ve not been a father to them until now - you _couldn’t_. It’ll feel bloody weird if you start trying to act like one now, and they’ll see right through you if you even try.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s not like Ellowynne who’s still a child and _needs_ a father to take care of her, Fenris. You know better than I do, at sixteen and former slaves they’re certainly not children any more.”

“I know that, I’m just worried. What if they resent me for not ...for not being there and suddenly having them brought to another country? I don’t know how to even talk to a child or a teenager?” Fenris sat down his mug and started to rub his temples. “Maybe I should try to sleep after all, I’m giving myself a headache being stupid.”

“Look, Fenris - from what I understand it, Zevran’s people broke your daughter out of slavery to a magister who was using her healing magic for - well, some very unpleasant things. She’ll simply be glad she’s not still there - and that the magister she was enslaved to is dead. And your son isn’t going to have to worry about being turned into someone’s body slave or thrown into the gladiatorial ring - or that his short life will come to a brutal end fuelling some blood magic or other. Fenris, do you resent _your_ father for not being there?” asked Cullen.

“I didn’t remember him until Mythal granted me her boon. If anything I resent my sister.” Fenris replied. “You’re just as deadly with words as you are with a Smite.” 

Cullen smiled ruefully. “There’s a reason why I’m the Commander, Fenris. It’s not all shiny swords and smiting undeserving mages.” He rubbed the back of his neck a little uncomfortably. “Not that I do the latter any more. I try not to use it at all, as a matter of fact.”

“I know, more a turn of phrase. I think I need to try and get _some_ sleep. Thanks for sitting with me.” Fenris emptied his cup and rose to go. 

Cullen rose to his feet, downing the last of his own cider before turning away from the fire. “Fenris? It’ll be alright. You’ll see. Let them come to you in their own way and time, OK?”

“Alright, thanks again.” Fenris headed off to his room to find Zevran still sprawled out until he shut the door and saw the other elf sit up, knife in hand. “It’s just me.” 

Zevran’s eyes glittered in the half-light cast by the low embers of the fire, and then he lowered the knife slowly and nodded. “You are restless, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured.

“I’ve been up for hours, you sat up when I left but I was quiet. Restless is a nice way of putting it.” Fenris stripped and slipped under the covers, glad for the other elf’s warm body against his. 

Zevran curled around him and rested his head against Fenris’ shoulder. “You are cold, my heart.” He pressed a light kiss to Fenris’ chest.

“It’s what happens when you walk the battlements on a cold night. I didn’t want to keep you up with my worry.” Fenris said as he wrapped an arm around the smaller elf and sighed. “I’ll try to keep from pressing my cold toes against you.”

Zevran chuckled quietly. “I am smaller than you; it would be harder for your toes to reach. But have a care where you place your hands, _carissimi_ , eh?”

“Thought you liked me putting my hands on you carissimi.” Fenris said as he tried to get comfortable and not roll over to pin Zevran down. 

“I do, but perhaps not when your hands are like ice and I am comfortable and warm,” Zevran smiled as he nuzzled against Fenris and closed his eyes.

“I”ll try to get warm for you then.” Fenris rolled to his side and let his wings form before he draped one over them and pulled the blanket up again. “There that should warm us.” 

Zevran opened his eyes and glanced up, then blinked. “I had never before fully appreciated the advantages of a lover who is a dragon,” he smiled.

“Thought it was my stamina and big dick you appreciated as perks of me being a dragon now.” Fenris said as he glanced at Zevran. 

The smaller elf frowned slightly. “You had them before you became a dragon though,” he pointed out.

“Not as I am now, the lyrium didn’t give me that much of an advantage.” Fenris said as he let his eyes close again. 

“It is true that I would have no chance of besting you were we to wrestle now,” Zevran agreed. “It is good we are not wrestling, no?”

“Don’t know...maybe I’d finally be tired enough to really sleep.” Fenris said quietly. “I’m exhausted, don’t mind me right now.” 

“Perhaps sleep will come soon, hmm?” suggested Zevran before breaking off with a jaw-cracking yawn. “Forgive me, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed as his limbs grew heavy and lax.

Fenris didn’t reply, he laid there with Zevran in his arms until he drifted off, warm and content until he felt someone shaking him awake. “What? What is it?” he asked as he reached up to swat at whoever was touching him.

“Love you’re going to oversleep, get up.” Vic said as he moved back when Fenris sat up and stared at him. 

“I knew I’d do something to screw up before they got here!” he said before he hopped out of bed and ran to the basin to clean up.

Invictus did his best not to laugh as he watched his husband run around to get ready. “Love, you’ve got time. I made sure to leave enough for you to get ready slowly, sit down and relax for a moment.

Fenris paused as he was lacing his pants to glare at Invictus. “Vic...please don’t tease me, not right now.” 

Vic went sat down and beckoned Fenris to him with a grin. “Sorry love, it was just a bit comical to see you running around like a chicken, for a moment. It will be ok; just take a moment to breathe, relax.” He helped Fenris with his belt, and rose to put a shirt on the elf.

“I can dress myself Vic,” Fenris said when his hands were brushed aside while Vic laced up the front of of the dark grey shirt he’d had pulled on.

“I know but I miss doing this, just us sometimes. Besides you’re so nervous, you might just forget trousers at the rate you were going love.” Vic gave him a kiss and stepped back to admire his husband. “I’m so lucky.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at Vic, unsure what was going on. “The other day you were ready to yell at me for being such an ass to you and Anders, now you’re looking at me as if I’m the most precious thing you’ve laid your eyes on. What gives?”

“You wound me, I’m just happy for you. I know you’ve been worried and concern over their arrival has made you a bit...crabby. But I am lucky, you’re still here with us. Even when we fight, I am still happy we’re together. It might sound odd, but I am looking at you like that because it’s how I feel about you. I need to tell you, all of you how much I love you more. I don’t do it enough,” Vic said before he leaned in for another kiss which was interrupted by Zevran and Anders’ arrival.

“Sorry, loves,” apologised Anders as Zevran guided him over to a chair. “Still not used to trying to do everything one-handed.”

“He still tries to do everything himself,” said Zevran as he set about Anders’ hair with a comb, tidying the dishevelled locks.

“I can dress myself, Zev!” protested Anders.

“Ah, but why struggle with one hand when I can ably assist you with two?” asked the Antivan in a maddeningly-reasonable tone.

“What is it with you two trying to dress us today?” Fenris said as he was handed a vest.

“Anders will still have his arm in a sling for at least another two weeks or more,” shrugged Zevran. “Why should he struggle on his own when I can help him? I am quite healed and fine - he, however, should not wrestle with things needlessly alone.” He set about drawing Anders’ hair into a half-ponytail which he then began to braid deftly.

Anders gave a good-natured sigh and gave up trying to wave the elf off, instead settling for pouring himself a cup of coffee one-handed from the breakfast tray. “Do we know when they’ll be arriving?”

“By breakfast service in the great hall. So fairly soon?” Fenris said as he sat down and considered coffee. 

“You’re doing better than I did the morning before we arrived at the Ostwick Circle,” remarked Anders as he stirred honey into his coffee. “I mean, you haven’t fainted yet, which is a good sign.”

“That means I will probably do so when I actually see them. I got maybe two hours sleep so I’m shaky,” Fenris said as he glanced up as Vic slid a cup of tea in front of him. “Thank you love.”

“Yes, that was also Anders,” nodded Zevran. “But perhaps if you can manage something to eat now then you will not faint then, hmm?”

“Assuming he can -” began Anders then fell silent as Zevran placed a finger against his lips.

“Let Fenris drink his tea and find his composure, my heart. He does not need our chatter, hmm?”

“It’s alright, I don’t think I can eat. I’m worried I’ll throw it back up.” Fenris had the tea quickly and set the cup down with a loud clink. “Can we go downstairs now? I’m...I want to be there when they arrive.” 

Anders downed his coffee and nodded. “Ellowynne went on ahead - Hal and Arden came to collect her earlier to join some of the kids from the College. I think Hal decided it might be a good idea to keep the kids occupied so they don’t overwhelm Callus and Vulpine the very moment they arrive.” He sighed. “I wish Varric were here actually.”

“No! Can you image the stories he’d make up? No, please don’t say that.,” Fenris said as he started at the feel of a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just ...nervous.”

“It’s just me love, come on before you do faint,” Vic said as he opened the door for them.

“No, not for those kinds of stories - he was just always very good at setting all the newcomers at their ease,” shrugged Anders as he rose from his chair. 

“I...apologize in advance if I react strangely, especially if she looks too much like...my sister,” Fenris said before he hurried out and kept going towards the Hall.

Anders exchanged glances with Zevran as they followed Invictus and Fenris towards the great hall.

“He will not take it well if the resemblance is too close, no?” murmured the Antivan.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” whispered Anders back _sotto voce_.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, let’s go,” Vic said as he fell in besides Zevran. 

The hall was fairly quiet at that early hour, though Meneris and Dorian were already sitting at the high table talking to a heavily-pregnant Cassandra. Dorian glanced up as they entered and twitched his eyebrows meaningfully towards a group of travellers that had just taken their seats at a table near the fire. One of the men turned at their entrance and began making his way towards them as Zevran stepped forward.

“Spymaster,” the man greeted the Antivan. 

“Any trouble?” asked Zevran quietly.

“A little. A fight picked with some local bandits at the pass. All taken care of.”

“The boy?”

“The girl,” replied the man with a grimace. “Right little vixen that one, with a temper to match her hair.”

“But no injuries?” inquired Zevran.

“Not on our side, sir,” replied the man.

“Good. Come give your report to me later.”

“Sir,” acknowledged the man, and withdrew.

Fenris approached slowly and stood behind Zevran as if the smaller elf could shield him from the two teens who were watching them. 

The boy was a lean, rangy youth, dark-haired though his green eyes were his father’s, as was his height - tall, for an elf, though perhaps not as tall as his father now was. He watched everything, saying nothing, his hands held loosely at his sides as he leaned with one hip resting against a table, fingers occasionally brushing the knives slung from his belt.

His half-sister on the other hand had a wild, unruly mop of bright copper hair and fierce blue eyes rather similar to those of Aeolus. She was a slender thing, almost a full head shorter than her brother, a hard look to her face as she darted suspicious glares around them, her eyes holding a sullen, angry look, her long elven ears twitching as she stared around, arms folded defensively in front of her. 

Her half-brother murmured something and nodded in Fenris’ direction; she turned and stared at him, eyes narrowing for a moment before she shrugged and replied quietly.

One of the other travellers brought them food and both youths fell to as though near-starved, wolfing down the food with alarming speed, eyeing everyone else warily as though they half-expected someone to take it away again.

Fenris waited until they were done eating before he approached them, saddened at the reminder of how things used to be, and how they still were for the two before him. “ _You’re Vulpine and Callus?_ ” he asked.

The boy looked up at him then to the others behind the tall elf. “ _You’re our sire then?_ ” 

The girl was regarding Fenris with a frankly appraising look. “ _You two have the same eyes,_ ” she sniffed. She sat back from her empty plate and folded her arms again. “ _Why were we brought here?_ ”

“ _Because I found out about both of you, and I wanted you to be freed from the Imperium. Not...suffer any more. How was your trip to the Keep?_ ” Fenris replied.

“ _Cold,_ ” she replied tersely.

Fenris could tell Vulpine was going to be harder to get to know. “ _Well, you won’t be cold now that you’re here. Do you mind if I sit with you or do you want to get settled in your rooms first?_ ”

“ _I could stand to see this fancy place you’ve had us brought to, eh? Also I want to know who those people are, trying desperately to look as if they aren’t watching closely._ ” Callus said with a grin at Zevran.

“ _That tall blond man is a magister, isn’t he?_ ” said Vulpine suspiciously as she stared hard at Anders in his dark robe. Zevran was grinning easily back at Callus as he strode forward. The Antivan sketched an elaborate bow.

“ _Zevran Hawke, at your service,_ ” he told them, his Tevene flawless though lightly accented with that lilt of Antivan he could never entirely lose. “ _It is I who secured your escapes from your respective masters._ ” He turned to Vulpine. “ _I trust your former master’s death was satisfyingly excruciating?_ ”

“ _It was over too fast,_ ” she replied with acidic vitriol in a blaze of sudden anger and hatred before she seemed to close herself off once more. “ _It doesn’t matter though. He’s dead._ ”

“ _No, he is not a magister._ ” Fenris said as he stared down at her. “ _Maker, it’s like looking at an angrier version of me as a girl._ ” 

She glared at him. “ _What is he then, if not a magister? An altus? He looks high-born. What does he want?_ ”

Anders was regarding her with faint dismay. “Maker, it’s like - Vic, remember when Fenris first showed up in Kirkwall?” He swallowed hard. “At least she can’t do the magic fisting thing,” he added in a very quiet aside.

“ _He’s not high born any more than you were. He’s a regular mage, and he’s going to be your instructor so stop being rude to him. He’s also one of your step-fathers,_ ” Fenris said as he tried to rein in his temper with the girl. 

She had recoiled as though expecting to be hit as Fenris chastised her, her ears going flat as she hunched in upon herself until she heard the term _step-father_ \- at which point her eyes snapped with sudden anger.

“ _He is **not** my step-father!_ ” she hissed. “ _You think you can have us dragged here into this freezing place - a man we have never seen in our lives - and act the happy father? I have no father! I am - I **was** a slave, slaves do not have families! I don’t have a father, I don’t need one - and I certainly don’t need a human man pretending to be one!_ ”

Anders groaned quietly. The girl had dropped into the common vulgar argot of Tevene used by the rough street people and slaves, but Anders recognised enough of it to follow. Zevran drew a slow breath as he briefly rested a hand on Fenris’ shoulder. 

“Let it go, _carissimi_ ,” he advised softly. “We are all strangers to her, yes? Do not be too hasty. She is like a frightened wild creature; her trust must be gained slowly. She thinks she has merely exchanged one master for another.”

“It doesn’t make it sting any less. I knew they’d hate me,” Fenris replied softly as he glanced to Zevran. “I’ll show Callus around, perhaps you can get through to her.”

The boy had glared at his sister through her outburst then leaned in close to speak quickly and harshly. “ _Do you want to be sent back? Do you really want to be pawned off to another magister who will treat you even worse? Make you lie back and spread yourself even more than that old bitch did to you? He’s our sire, and had us released -_ ”

She turned and shoved him back roughly. “ _No-one is taking me back anywhere!_ ” she screamed. She threw up her hand and suddenly they were all knocked back by the force of a powerful spirit blast. As they staggered and fell back, she fled swiftly.

Even Fenris, to his surprise, had been forced to recoil a couple of steps under the force of the blast; both Zevran and Anders had been knocked off their feet completely, as had Callus and several of the travellers nearby who had brought the two elves to Skyhold. Meneris and Dorian had risen from their seats at the high table and Dorian was now hurrying over towards them.

“Amicus, what was that?” exclaimed the altus.

“My daughter is a mage with a nasty temper. Figures,” Fenris said as he went over to help Anders to his feet.

Callus swore as he looked around for his sibling. “ _Damn her temper and my mouth. Where does this hall lead to?_ ” he asked.

Anders was clutching his arm through the sling, his face pale. He bit back a whimper as Fenris helped him up; Zevran had scrambled to his feet and swiftly moved to his side.

“Jarred my arm as I went down,” Anders murmured. “Maker, that hurts....”

“Sit down,” Zevran suggested as he helped Fenris guide their husband to a chair, then glanced around. “The keep is a rabbit warren. I shall hunt for our little vixen.”

“Be careful, she’s powerful and untrained...clearly,” Fenris said as he watched Callus join the other elf and head off to seek the girl. “Well she’s nothing like her aunt. Who cursed me to have a child of my temperament?” 

“Old curse, or is it a promise parents make love. She’s been pulled away from a life she knows, albeit a terrible one, to meet a bunch of strangers. I don’t know what he said but it set her off,” Vic said as he opened a potion for Anders. “Open up, there we go; nice and easy, love.” 

“Do you want to tell them, love, or shall I?” asked Anders as he glanced at Fenris. “I certainly understood enough to follow _that_ , and frankly I don’t blame her for reacting in that way.”

All Fenris gave was a terse ‘no’ before he took a seat. “I knew this was a bad idea, not here an hour and look how it’s gone.” 

Anders sighed as the healing potion slowly began to take effect. He nodded thanks to Dorian as the Tevinter mage poured him a glass of wine. “She basically reacted the way I would have done if, having escaped from one Circle, someone suggested handing me over to a pack of templars from a different Circle,” he explained quietly. “He told her she should be grateful for being dragged here with no agency or say, and frankly in her shoes I think I would have been just as angry and thinking about as clearly.” He grimaced.

“Oh dear,” said Dorian with a frown of worry. “Do you think she’ll have gone to ground?”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” agreed Anders. “Lost in a strange, unknown fortress with lots of hidey-holes but also lots of guards everywhere? She’ll find somewhere to hide first. It’s what I would do.”

Fenris glared at Anders before he got up and stalked out to get some air. He’d told him no, but Anders had spilled it in a manner of speaking anyway. He glanced up at the sky and decided to take to the air in the hopes of spotting the scared girl. 

Anders watched Fenris go but didn’t bother trying to stop him. He shook his head and sighed. “Well, he certainly put his foot in it,” he murmured to himself.

“How so?” asked Dorian as he took a seat next to Anders at the table. He glanced up with a brief, distracted smile as Meneris came to join them.

“He expected too much,” said Anders sadly. “Those two have never known a father in their lives - and then up pops a strange elf who tells them the tall blond human who looks like a magister is their step-father. I mean, how else were they to react, really?” He took a sip from his wine slowly.

“Should I go after him?” Vic asked with a glance at the double doors. “He’ll catch his death out there unless he...changes.”

Anders set down his wine glass then held his good hand up as he closed his eyes. He frowned, then tilted his head slightly to one side. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and reached for the wine glass. “He changed,” he replied. “He’s airborne.”

Dorian stared at Anders, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. “You can actually sense him?”

Anders pulled a slight face. “In a manner of speaking. I can feel - sense - the life forces of everyone in Skyhold, but I’ve healed Fenris so often that no matter where he is in the fortress, I could close my eyes and point in his direction if I think about it. He still _feels_ like Fenris when he’s changed - and if I can feel him in the sky above us, then it’s safe to say he’s changed.”

“Then you could sense where the girl is?” asked Dorian, leaning forward with interest.

“Hah! No,” replied Anders. “That would be handy - but no. I’ve never healed her, so she’s just one more point of life force amongst a couple of thousand. I’m afraid I have no idea where she is. It took enough focus to find Fenris, and I know his life force better than I know my own, after being bound to it for so long.”

“You could probably still find her better than us, after all you have run from us in a panic in this fortress.Think about it for a moment, if you were a young apostate, terrified and angry where would you go?” Vic asked.

“Down,” required Anders without a moment’s hesitation. “The Undercroft. There’s whole storerooms down there; it’s where Cullen found me when -” He broke off, his expression changing. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” He straightened in his chair and closed his eyes.

Dorian stared at him, then up at Invictus. “Is he - _looking_ for her? With his healer’s senses?” he asked.

“Probably yeah, let him concentrate I’ll go and try to get Fenris to come back in.” Vic said before he rose and grabbed a cloak so he could go out and try to get the dragon’s attention.

Anders’ head had slowly lowered, his consciousness elsewhere as he reached out mentally to track down the missing elven girl. He didn’t move when Zevran returned, a frown upon his fine elven features, the youth Callus following behind. Dorian frowned and shook his head as Zevran reached to touch Anders.

It was perhaps half an hour later that Anders finally spoke; two words, and Zevran was off at a run, Callus at his heels once more.

They were walking back into the hall, a sullen yet uncertain Vulpine walking between them, when Invictus arrived back inside with Fenris. Dorian was reviving Anders with a glass of wine.

Fenris sat down and let Zevran run things, his mouth had already caused problems. Callus sat next to his sister, willing to apologize but he couldn’t get her to face him. 

The Antivan led her over to Anders, who was exhausted and barely opened his eyes as Dorian offered him the wine, waving it away wearily.

“ _Look,_ ” said Zevran quietly. “ _Does this man look like a magister to you?_ ”

“ _But how did he find me, if not blood magic?_ ” she demanded. Anders opened his eyes a little wider and sat up straighter despite his weariness as he glanced at her.

“ _Spirit magic,_ ” he said quietly. “ _You could learn to do it too._ ”

“ _Could I learn to - to hide better? If I did?_ ” she asked him, glaring at him half-heartedly.

Anders grinned wearily. “ _You could,_ ” he agreed. “ _You could do it so well even I couldn’t find you._ ”

Vulpine shifted uncertainly from foot to foot as she stared anywhere but at the blond mage, before finally blurting out, “ _I would learn, if - if - if you would teach me. Master._ ”

Anders turned to her slowly. “ _Vulpine, I am no-one’s master. No-one owns you now. You are a free woman. But if you will agree to let me teach you, then I will gladly teach you all I know. But on one condition._ ”

She stared at him uncertainly, then slowly nodded.

“ _You stop running away until I am done._ ”

Fenris had looked away when she called Anders master but he didn’t leave, didn’t say a word as not to break the tentative truce between them. He looked up again at Callus moving to sit by him.

Anders ignored them, his eyes only on Vulpine. She bit her lip, worrying at it, then slowly nodded.

“ _Done. What do I call you, if not master?_ ”

“My name is Anders,” he grinned, and watched her frown as she pondered the words in Trade.

“Anders,” she repeated slowly, and he nodded.

Callus tilted his head to the side and whispered to Fenris. “ _He’s good_.”

Anders gestured to the seat beside himself; warily, she took it, regarding him with suspicion and yet curiosity.

“How much Trade do you speak?” he asked her.

“A little,” she admitted quietly.

“Good. That will make things a little easier,” he told her. 

Fenris simply watched Anders and Vulpine, a little sad at how she took to him now that he’d had a chance to speak to her. “ _Do you still want a tour or do you want to be shown your room?_ ” he asked Callus quietly. Dorian had poured more wine and was holding glasses out to Callus and Vulpine; he took his, a little bemused, whereas Vulpine regarded him warily before hesitantly accepting hers after a glance at Anders. Callus took a cautious sip, then glanced at Fenris.

“ _We saw much of the fortress whilst hunting,_ ” said Zevran. “ _But perhaps Callus would like to see his own room before exploring properly?_ ”

Vulpine was tasting her own wine with a look of distrust, but she glanced up at Zevran’s words. “So the magister told the truth? We get our own rooms?” she demanded.

“By ‘magister’ I presume you mean Maevaris,” smiled Anders. “Yes, you’ll have your own rooms. I told you - you’re not slaves here. Even children have their own rooms, once old enough to be fully weaned. My daughter’s room is next to mine.”

“You have a daughter?” said Vulpine, surprised; for a moment there was a flicker of something almost wistful in her eyes.

“Yes, Ellowynne. She’s only ten summers old,” answered Anders. “I rescued her from the Circle at Ostwick only a couple of weeks after I’d learned of her existence.”

“You didn’t know you had a daughter?” she said, surprised. Anders smiled sadly.

“Until recently, most mages were prisoners. Kept in towers, their children taken away at birth.”

“Like slaves?” she said, startled. Her eyes went to Callus, and then - almost unwillingly - to Fenris, before returning to Anders.

“Yes, like slaves,” agreed Anders. “I’ve been working hard to change that. You’ll get to meet Ellowynne later, if you like.” 

“She’s a very sweet girl, but doesn’t take anything off us like her father,” Invictus winked at Anders before he gave Vulpine a smile. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Invictus Hawke.”

“Hawke? But you’re a human!” she exclaimed, before she blushed as Zevran laughed.

“It’s my surname, same as Anders, Zevran and Fenris.” Vic rested his free hand on Fenris’s shoulder and frowned at how tense the elf felt, as if he were going to bolt any moment.

“It’s true,” shrugged Zevran as he smiled and refilled Anders’ glass and his own. “We are all married, one to the other, all four.”

“Then... what _he_ said....” she began slowly.

“Vulpine, I am not going to try to pretend to be something I’m not to you,” said Anders. “I am not your father. I will be your teacher, a friend if you will trust me perhaps - but you are a young woman. You’ve not had a father until now, and I don’t expect to step into the role of one. So you need have no fear on that score.”

“I see,” she said, staring into her glass before taking another cautious sip.

“I won’t push either of you to know me until you’re ready, if you ever are. If you all will excuse me; I have some duties to attend to. Zevran will show you to your rooms, and if you wish I’ll see you at dinner.” Fenris sat his drink aside and tried to make his away from the hall and to his office.

Anders glanced up as Fenris rose. “Love?” he asked gently.

“Later, please.” The warrior replied as he paused. “Thank you for finding Vulpine, I’ll see you all later. Excuse me.” 

Anders regarded him with clear worry in his amber eyes, but merely nodded acquiescence unhappily.

Invictus watched him go, unhappy that the elf felt the need to go but glad he didn’t just bolt out. He’d seek him out later, once he’d had a chance to pull himself together.

Anders’ eyes followed Fenris until the elf was gone from sight. “That was -”

“ _Not_ your fault,” Dorian interjected firmly. “Fenris has to work through this in his own way, my friend.”

“Even so -” began Anders, but subsided when Zevran squeezed his good shoulder.

“ _He’s hurting, it didn’t go as he’d hoped. Should I go speak to him...Zevran?_ ” Callus said as he stared at the door for another moment before he glanced at his sister. “ _It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have spoke to you like that Pin, I’m sorry._ ” 

“ _You’re right, you shouldn’t_ ,” she snapped back tersely. She didn’t look up, though the tips of her ears had blushed red.

“ _I should let him be for now,_ ” suggested Zevran with a shrug. “ _When he gets like this, it is usually best to let Fenris think it through in his own time. Come, I shall show you to your rooms._ ”

“ _Getting to know him should be easy, I’ve had sixteen years of her moods to learn after all._ ” Callus said before he drained his glass and grabbed his pack.

Vulpine scowled. “I’m _nothing_ like him,” she hissed. “ _How dare you, Cal? He thinks he can have us dragged all the way here and we’ll fall over ourselves with gratitude, call him pater? We don’t even know him! Don’t insult me by comparing me to him like that._ ”

“ _Easy now, Vulpine_ ,” said Anders gently. “ _Your brother means well. Why don’t we find your rooms, and then you and I can talk later, alright?_ ”

She stared at Anders for a moment, then nodded as she rose to her feet. Anders got slowly up from his chair, almost falling over for a minute as he nearly overbalanced until Vulpine grabbed him, surprisingly strong for all she was so small and slender.

“ _What’s wrong with you?_ ” she demanded, worry making her tone sharp.

“ _He expended a great deal of energy finding you through spirit magic,_ ” said Dorian acerbically.

Both young elves stared at the altus, eyes widening as they recognised his clearly cultured tones and native way he spoke Tevene.

“Altus!” muttered Vulpine, and both she and Callus stood with eyes downcast, nervous.

“Not here,” replied Dorian quietly. “Here I am just a man and no better than either of you. Now, Anders is very tired and needs his rest. I suggest you both go with Zevran and get settled in your new rooms, and then you may speak with Anders later, Vulpine, yes?” He glanced to Meneris. “I’ll see Anders to his rooms, amatus; I shall see you shortly.” He bent over to give Meneris a kiss on the cheek before he stood and looped an arm around Anders’ waist, ignoring the shocked looks both Vulpine and Callus were giving him.

“I’ll be on my way to the College, I’ll see you all around. Be careful with my husband, Dorian.” Invictus gave them a bow and headed off to ready himself for students. 

“Now, come along Anders, before you fall over,” said Dorian as he guided the taller man towards the doors. Vulpine and Callus were both still staring at him.

“ _He said we were equals!_ ” Vulpine whispered. “ _And he **kissed** that other man! On the cheek! Another elf!_ ”

 

**

Fenris had gone to his office, locked the door and poured himself a stiff drink. He tried to do work but nothing kept his attention for more than a few moments. He finally gave up and went to his rooms; hopeful they would leave him be until later. After nearly an hour of failing to do anything that would calm him, he got in bed, staring at the ceiling as he let his thoughts run unchecked.

Sleep finally claimed the warrior, which kept him abed until after the dinner hour. His absence made Invictus worry for his husband with two assassins still on the loose and knowing how his dark moods could spiral into dark places. When the elf still hadn’t shown by dessert, he had a tray put together so he could drop it off and at least check on him. 

“I’ll see you all in a bit, it worries me when he gets like this and won’t eat.” Vic said as he leaned in to give Anders a kiss before parting. 

“He did say he would be at dinner to see Callus and Vulpine,” nodded Anders, glancing further down the hall to where the two elves sat near the fire, as close as they could get to its warmth as they ate. They stared around themselves warily, and Anders narrowed his eyes as Callus took a bread roll then hid it as he glanced around almost guiltily. The blond mage sighed. “It’ll take those two a while to realise they don’t have to steal food,” he added. 

“Yeah he said that, but you saw the look on his face when he left, plus he barely slept. I think he crashed hard and slept through dinner.” Vic said as he wondered what seemed to be taking so long for the tray.

“I’d have slept through myself, if Zevran hadn’t come to fetch me,” confessed Anders. “I’ve never stretched my healer’s senses so much as that before. The furthest I’ve used it in the past has been when we were fighting in a group together; the farther out I reach, the more energy it takes. To be honest, I had no idea I even _could_ use it like that. But maybe you’re right - maybe it was just the stress of this morning on top of a sleepless night. Cullen says he encountered Fenris on the battlements last night - prowling around in the cold likely didn’t do him any good either.”

Just as Invictus was going to check on his request, the doors opened and Fenris entered. He joined their group, quiet as he took the mug of cider put in front of him almost before it had hit the table. 

Anders glanced at him, worried. “Love? Vic was about to come look for you. Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not.” Fenris replied before he started to pick at the plate set in front of him. 

“Do you need ---?” Vic started to ask.

“Not in here, not now. Please Vic, can I at least eat something first?” Fenris asked softly. 

“Let him eat, love,” Anders suggested softly. “He didn’t even eat breakfast.”

Further down the table, Zevran glanced up from talking quietly with Ellowynne to stare at Fenris, before looking back to the girl and shaking his head as he laid a finger upon his lips. No-one else at the high table seemed to have noticed anything amiss; Josephine was talking with Arden, who had taken the seat between her and Dorian, the Antivan woman gesturing animatedly as she talked, Arden nodding occasionally as he listened. Cullen and Cassandra seemed to be in a little world of their own, sitting next to each other, Cullen’s arm around his wife and a soft expression on his face.

Fenris ate slowly, hopeful to keep the conversation off his departure and missing dinner long enough for him to be able to speak. He finally pushed his tray away and looked to his spouses. “I’m sorry for earlier. I forgot every bit of advice when she called you a magister and I needed to defend you Anders. I’m going to go back to bed, not much sleep the last day or so.” He spoke just low enough for them to hear.

Anders nodded. “Do you want us to send Zevran to you later, or one of us to come? I need to speak to Arden and Josie later after dinner, but....” His voice trailed off into the question.

Fenris shrugged and stirred the remains of his cider. “If any of you want to, it’s fine. If not, it’s fine. I don’t know if I’ll even be awake long enough to be good company.” 

“I can come with you love, I’m worried when you get like this. I have been since Kirkwall.” Vic said as he chanced sitting with Fenris and wrapping an arm around the elf.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep, now you’ve eaten,” said Anders, although the look of worry never left his eyes as he regarded the elf with concern.

Fenris glanced over to where the two teens were still huddled then back to his husband. “No, I won’t. If you want to come with me Vic, feel free. I’m probably going to be asleep as soon as I touch the bed as a warning.” 

“I’ll feel better if I’m there with you. Come on love.” Vic kept his arm around the elf as they got up to go. He frowned at how Fenris seemed to be holding it in, but eager to flee again.

Anders sighed softly, but let them go. There was nothing he could say or do at this point to make things any easier on Fenris; he knew from his own experience that the elf would simply have to work his way through this himself.

Vulpine glanced up as Fenris and Invictus made their way slowly back through the hall. She gave Fenris a scornful look before she elbowed her half-brother. “ _Well, it didn’t take long for him to show just how much his word to us was worth,_ ” she muttered quietly. “ _We only have each other to depend upon - same as always. Best we know now rather than making the mistake of taking his word, huh?_ ”

Callus frowned at her as he sat back. “ _Stop it and think for a moment, just a moment and listen to me. Zevran explained a lot of what we didn’t know before coming here, how he didn’t even sleep for being nervous about meeting us. You were too busy calling Anders a magister until you saw he could teach you something useful to notice, but our sire is not doing this on purpose. He’s hurting, and scared like we are. Do you think I like that we’ve been dragged to this damned cold country with little to our names but our clothes and our ruck sacks? No, but we’re free now. It will take time sister, but don’t write him off just yet. You’re being awful chummy to a man you called a magister not moments after meeting him yet you’re already throwing our sire under the cart. You’re too much alike Zevran tells me, in temperament to how he was when they met. At least give him a chance to know us, it was all he wanted._ ” 

“ _I’m not being ‘chummy’ as you put it,_ ” she hissed back. “ _He has something I need - the knowledge and training I can’t get any other way - and I’ll do what I have to, to get that - and that’s it. As for our sire, we owe him nothing! It’s that Zevran who got us out, not him. You think I should be grateful to him because he was ordered to put his prick in my mother - who had no more say in it than he did? It wasn’t him who got our freedom - it wasn’t him who came to fetch us; it wasn’t even him who put these clothes on our backs! It was Magister Tilani who clothed us, fed us, who dressed the whip wounds on your back, brother - where was our sire then?_ ” She sat back and glared. “ _It sticks in my craw that we owe anything at all to that magister bitch but at least she was useful. Him? He can’t even keep one lousy promise to **talk** to us! Save your breath. I’ll take nothing from him and give him the same back._ ”

Callus shook his head sadly at her once she was done. “ _Dumat, you’d already written him off before we left Tevinter hadn’t you? How was he supposed to do those things from here? I’m not saying go hop in his lap and call him pater, but at least give him a chance to prove himself. You did not hear one word I said and you’re ready to take everyone’s word over that of one request from your brother. You don’t care enough to try and that’s sad sister. Zevran was a Crow Master, he had the connections to get those things done but it was on Fenris’ request that it was made so. His coin was used to get us here. I’m off to bed, I’ve lessons with Zevran in the morning, as do you with Anders. I hope you can stop being so damned prickly for a moment, just one. I’m not going to be calling him father any time soon but I’ve eyes to see he wants to try and for the chance not to be laid under some old codger who thinks stuffing the knife-ear’s arse until he screams for mercy is a fun time; I’ll give him a chance to prove himself. Good night sister, sleep well in your warm bed, and full stomach._ ” Callus left her there to think, but he had little hope she heard him. 

“ _At least Anders cared enough to go after his daughter and rescue her himself!_ ” she called out to him. “ _At least he was man enough to do that instead of throwing coin for others, as though we were just some trinket he fancied!_ ” She glared at her brother’s back as he walked away, shoving her chair back as she folded her arms and scowled.

Up at the high table, Anders’ face had paled as he heard Vulpine’s yelled words clearly over the general hubbub in the hall. He didn’t glance around, but he could feel Dorian and Josephine’s eyes upon him in shocked surprise.

Callus didn’t turn and give her the satisfaction but he did see Anders’ reaction. He sighed and went over to the mage. “ _Apologies Enchanter Anders, my sibling is ...never mind I won’t apologize for her. I will see you tomorrow as expected if you would still train me._ ” Callus said as he took in the look on Anders’ face and wished he’d just run from the Inquisition agents the moment they’d got out of Tevinter. 

“ _Fenris would have come for you both if he could,_ ” Anders managed after a moment. “ _I can understand why she said that, but - she’s wrong, he **would** have come, I know it. I’ll speak to her tomorrow. I’m just glad Fenris didn’t hear that. Maker, she’s - that’s so much like Fenris used to be. But you have nothing to apologise for, Callus. It’s alright._ ” He tried to smile.

“ _Thank you, Enchanter Anders. I’ll see you at breakfast, good night._ ” Callus sketched a shallow bow then headed off to his room. He had a lot to think on, and not much of it was good.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing can go right, can it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence, tw: death, tw: description of death

Fenris got dressed slowly, hoping Vic would get irritated and leave him for breakfast. He didn’t want to go down there, not after the night he’d had. He washed his face again in the hopes he wouldn’t look as bad as he had upon waking. He glanced in the looking glass and caught the expression on Vic’s face.

“Love, stop dawdling. I’m not leaving you here to sulk all day. At least show your face at breakfast, speak to them. Vulpine is really a nasty piece of work, and knowing she was around Maeveris, I am unsurprised she’s so quick to temper with you. Come on, you can’t hide in your room forever.” Vic hugged him from behind gently and sighed when he felt the hitch in his husband’s breathing.

“I don’t think I can do this Vic. I made a mistake in having them sent for, she hates me already.” Fenris said as he turned and buried his face against Vic’s shoulder.

“Well they’re here now and if you send them away it will be much, much worse. They aren’t wyverns. Maker, you’ve faced down giants and dragons with less fear than I see in you now. Do your best love, it’s all anyone will ask. If it gets to be too much, come with me and we’ll talk. Go see Dorian, do something but do not hole up in here and beat yourself up promise me that?” Vic gently tugged at Fenris to look at him.

“Can I have breakfast before you try to extract such a promise from me? Let me just get it over with and then, I’ll give you an answer. Maybe speaking with Dorian will help or just running away and flying.” Fenris kissed him before he slipped his scabbard onto his back and waited for Vic to join him.

“As you wish my heart, let’s go.” Vic took his hand and made sure Fenris couldn’t bolt before they entered the hall. He nearly landed flat on his face when he turned to greet Callus and Vulpine, and Fenris dug in his heels. “Hey, mind warning me before you suddenly stop?”

“Mind warning me before you try and force me into something?” Fenris replied.

Vulpine glanced up at the sudden movement and frowned. Hastily grabbing the rest of her food, she muttered something to her half-brother then got to her feet and headed towards one of the other doorways leading out of the hall as her brother watched with an expression of exasperation.

“I told you.” Fenris said as he watched her flee. “I’m not hungry any more Vic, why don’t you go and join Zevran?” 

“No you are not doing this. Say hello to Callus at least, she’s the one who ran off from you.” Vic said. As he glanced around the hall, he suddenly realised there was no sign of Anders. Ambassador Josephine was also absent from her customary place at the Inquisitor’s table, which struck him as slightly odd. 

Zevran glanced up from a seat near the fire where he was studying a couple of reports handed him by a runner. He frowned slightly, then handed both reports back to the waiting messenger who bowed then withdrew as the Antivan got to his feet and headed towards them.

Vic waved at him, and tried to get Fenris look up but the elf was too busy debating whether to speak to Callus or leave. 

“ _Carissimi_ ,” greeted Zevran. “You do not look as though sleep was restful for you, my heart.”

“It wasn’t, and seeing her run off at the sight of me didn’t help either. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll at least greet Callus, if he doesn’t run off too.” Fenris halted when he felt Zevran’s hand on him. 

“ _Carissimi_. He will not run. But do not take it so much to heart that she does not accept you as easily as it seems her brother may. Freedom does not always sit well at first, no? She has much to adjust to, and perhaps it is all too much for her at present. Let her come to you when she is ready.” He raised one eyebrow. “She speaks, at least, to Anders. Let him charm her, take away a little of her wildness, yes?”

“Of course she does.” Fenris replied sadly before he went over to greet Callus. 

“This is hurting him more than I think some of you know, Zev, it’s really bad.” Hawke whispered once Fenris had left them.

“Then he has allowed himself to build his hopes too high and perhaps must view them more realistically,” sighed Zevran. “But really, what did he expect? That they would welcome him with outstretched arms and call him papa? He forgets perhaps how he felt when first he took his own freedom. He will learn - and so will they. But you do not gain the trust of a wild creature by trying to grasp it firm in your hands. You must tempt it to you and tame it with kindness - and not give up at the first hurdle.” He shook his head. “I must go; reports await me, and I must speak with Josie when she has finished with Anders and Arden.”

Vic shook his head sadly. “It’s not that, her viciousness and reminder of how he used to be is what is paining him so. He was fully ready to just try but her insistence that Anders was a magister, the way she spoke to him, he’s beating himself up. He feels like he’s failed in even trying. That’s what got to him, not too high a hope for what would happen. Seeing her take to Anders, even the little bit she gave ...I can’t put it into words but just talk to him later before you train with Callus.” 

Zevran smirked slightly. “Anders has something she wants, and that gives him leverage. Perhaps Fenris must think on what else she may want that only he can give her, eh?” He winked at Invictus before pressing a brief kiss to the mage’s cheek. “Later.” He strode from the hall, rolling his eyes as another messenger hurried towards him with yet another missive.

Vic went over to where Fenris and Callus were speaking quietly, and slid in next to his husband. “Morning Callus, have a good night’s sleep?” 

“It was alright ser Hawke. I hope you and...Fenris are well?” replied the young elf as he sat back and pulled his plate with him.

“I’m ...alright. I just wanted to check in and also apologize for not stopping over to speak last night, I wasn’t feeling well. If you want, I will take lunch in my office, you’re welcome to join me. As is Vulpine, if she will not run at the sight of me again. I won’t keep you long, I know you were eager to start your training.” Fenris took his own plate when set in front of him and ate slowly, mostly so he wouldn’t get sick but also to show the other elf he needn't hoard his food.

“I think Zevran had a meeting first, I was going to have a look around if you still would show me about?” Cal said as he watched both his sire and Invictus look uncomfortable as could be.

“Why don’t you do that love? I’ll take my meal to my office so you can speak in peace.” Vic leaned in, gave Fenris a kiss on the cheek and snagged a cover for his plate. 

The older elf glared at his husband before he turned back to his meal to polish it off. “Ready?” 

“Aye, maybe you can show me that giant pigsticker you have slung on your back.” Callus still slipped a roll and an apple into his pockets before they left. 

***

Anders returned from breakfast with Arden and Josephine to find Vulpine leaning against the wall outside the door to his quarters. She was tucking into a bread roll - no doubt pilfered from the breakfast table, he presumed - and darting wary glances up and down the hall until she spotted him, whereupon she straightened and gave him a challenging glare.

“You found your way with no difficulty then?” he smiled as he pressed a hand to the door and it unlocked with a quiet click.

“My room is on the floor above,” she shrugged. “Didn’t take long to find yours.” She followed him in and then halted a few steps inside the room as she took in the workbench with several potions brewing, the large desk piled high with papers, books and quills, the table and chairs to one side suggesting that the enchanter entertained people to dinner in his own quarters often enough to require a table capable of seating several at once, and an area spread with rugs, comfortable-looking couches and several bookshelves crowded with books. She could just about make out a large four-poster bed in what seemed to be a curtained-off sleeping area to one side, a large gauzy drape obscuring it from full view.

“Are you sure you’re not a magister?” she asked suspiciously as she stared around her. 

Anders laughed. “I can assure you I’m not!” he said with a smile. “I know, it probably seems quite a lot - but these are my work quarters and my office as well as my sleeping space, and I often see patients here as well. I do most of my teaching work over at the College however.”

“Why didn’t you tell me to see you there then? Why bring me to your personal quarters?” She glared at him distrustfully.

The smile slipped a little from Anders’ lips. “You’re safe here, Vulpine,” he said quietly. “I asked you to come here because I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable being around large crowds of mages. And also because I suspect you likely won’t want your lack of formal education to be too widely known.”

“My... lack of...?” she echoed slowly.

“Can you read, Vulpine?” he asked gently. The blush that spread across her cheeks and along her ears was all the answer he needed. He nodded slowly. “As I thought. Most of my students are highly literate - one of the few advantages of being brought up in the Circle was the education. I suppose there had to be some compensations for otherwise being prisoners, slaves, vulnerable to the demands and abuses of the templars and the punishments they would inflict at the drop of a hat.”

“I can’t imagine they’d get away with that with _you_ ,” she scoffed.

“Oh?” Anders’ smile was sad. “You might think that, but you’d be wrong. But you’re not here to hear my story. You’re here to learn; and the first thing I’m going to do is teach you how to read.” 

She stared at him, still distrustful, but as he gestured to her she made her way towards him and took the seat he indicated to her.

“If you’re not a magister, why do you dress like one?” she asked as he turned to leaf through the detritus on his desk with his good hand.

“Robes are easier to put on and off with my arm in a sling,” he answered, unearthing a slate. He set it before her, then hunted for a piece of chalk.

“What happened to your arm?”

“A templar broke it. Well, it had been broken in the past, and then he sort of landed on it. And technically he’s not a templar any more,” he added ruefully. “He used to be, though. Guarded me in the tower once upon the time - when I wasn’t escaping, or down in the dungeons.”

“You... ran away?” she said dubiously. He glanced at her with a mischievous grin.

“Oh yes,” he nodded. “More than once. Seven times in all.”

“I ran away six times,” she declared proudly. Anders blinked at her.

“Six?”

“They whipped me every time, but I didn’t care; it only made me swear they’d find it harder to catch me the next time,” she answered defiantly. “I’d have made it seven as well, only Zevran’s men killed the magister and took me away with Callus. But I’d have done it!”

“I’m sure you would,” Anders nodded admiringly.

“Did they whip you? When they caught you?” she demanded. Anders sat down and raised an eyebrow.

“I told you, we’re not here to talk about me but for you to learn,” he reminded her.

“What if I want to learn about you?” she challenged him. 

Anders stared at her for a long moment, then handed her a piece of chalk. “Alright. We’ll talk, and then afterwards, I’m going to teach you how to read and write your own name.”

“Done,” she nodded.

Anders sat back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. “What do you want to know?”

***  
Invictus watched Fenris pace back and forth to his wardrobe and to the chest he was taking with him to Tevinter with a fond smile. He glanced to Dorian with a tilt of his head and a hope the Altus would get his ‘amicus’ to sit down and enjoy a glass of wine.

“Love, you have packed and unpacked that same outfit four times. Come and sit with us please.” Vic asked.

“Indeed yes, amicus,” agreed Dorian. “You cannot possibly mean to take as much as that? We will not be gone that long! Much of what we need was dispatched with Calpernia weeks ago and will be all set up ready in any case.”

Fenris relented and tossed the outfit on the bed before he poured himself a large glass of wine and sat between them. “I’m sorry, maybe I should leave off packing until I’m not a ball of nerves.” 

“Or let us help you once you get that wine in you and you can relax eh?” Vic said before he topped up his glass and winked at Dorian. “Unless you’d like us to get you calm some other way?”

“Our esteemed Grand Enchanter should be with us shortly,” remarked Dorian. “Once Josephine has finished assisting him to pack and giving him his last-minute briefing.”

“You’re no fun Dorian.” Vic quipped before he topped up Fenris’ drink. He was distracted by a knock at the door. 

Fenris called for them to enter before he went back to his wine. 

Anders walked in - or at least, at first they took him for Anders, until they realised the silvery scar upon his forehead was gone, and the sling was missing. Arden grinned when both Invictus and Fenris did a double-take, then turned and nodded to Anders who had followed him in.

“You were right - they thought I was you for a moment, and you should have seen their faces!” he grinned at Anders.

“Told you,” shrugged Anders as he took a seat. “With that white streak dyed to match the rest of your hair - well, the Magisterium certainly won’t know the difference.”

“So what trickery is this and why didn’t you tell us?” Fenris asked as he watched Arden and Anders walking around. “What about rings? He’s supposed to be my husband, it wouldn’t do to act as if he’s a stranger.” 

“You’ll both be expected to be under a fair amount of stress,” shrugged Anders. “And he’ll be spending several days addressing and then being addressed by the Magisterium. Dagna’s made simple copies of my rings - good enough to fool the casual glance, at least. And the embassy in Minrathous is staffed entirely by our own people, so when you’re not engaged in official duties then no-one will be watching you.” He smiled a little sadly. “But if you need to, for the sake of your cover, then I hereby give my permission for you to kiss Arden as if he were me. Just for this.”

“Thank you for that, love.” Fenris said as he looked Arden up and down for a drawn out moment. “I suppose it will do. We should go have lunch and be ready to go by portal before dinner.” A knock on the door interrupted Vic’s reply.

“Who is it?” he asked as he cautiously threw the bolt back.

“Callus, I’d hoped to see Fenris before he leaves.” replied the rogue.

Anders glanced up as the young man entered, Arden turning towards the door, the borrowed set of Anders’ robes swirling around his ankles. Callus halted as what appeared to be two Anders stared at him.

“You didn’t tell me you had a twin, Enchanter Anders.” he said as he took in the two men. Anders grinned.

“Not a twin, though I can appreciate that maybe that’s not immediately obvious. We’re just taking advantage of the fact that our friend Arden just happens to resemble me almost frighteningly well. I’m pretty certain we’re not actually related however,” Anders added with a grin.

“Though I can think of no-one else I’d rather have as a brother,” shrugged Arden. “Well, in this world, at any rate.”

“Alright, I guess there’s a reason for this that I don’t understand.” He turned to Fenris and gave him a slight grin. “If I might have some time before you go?”

“Of course,” Fenris drained his glass and headed off towards his office. “I’ll be sure we are in the Hall in time for lunch.” 

Anders nodded, and Arden gave him a brief wave, before turning back to Invictus. 

“Sorry to keep you in the dark like that,” the blond Hawke apologised. “It wasn’t actually intentional, but we had to keep as tight a lid on this as possible, particularly as there’s at least one assassin still on the loose.”

“I thought there were two?” said Dorian with a frown.

“There were,” nodded Anders. “The other one tried to break into my room early this morning. Unfortunately for him, Zevran was spending the night with me.”

“Hoping the other one is caught alive so we can get some information at least.” Vic said as he reached over to take Anders hand. “I don’t like this.” 

“Nor do I, love,” replied Anders. “The assassin was very quiet. I never heard him - it was only when Zevran took him down that I awoke.” He dropped his gaze and looked worried. “Zevran said he was most definitely intent on killing me.”

“Good thing Zevran is staying then, and you’re staying in my room tonight. It’s harder to get into.” Vic said. Anders nodded.

“Zevran thinks they may have been hired by Starkhaven,” Anders went on. “The ones in Hal’s room were apparently expecting Hal and I to arrive there together at some point - or perhaps had decided to work their way through all the mages until they found me. But this one was definitely coming straight for me. Which means there’s one more after my blood somewhere in Skyhold.”

“Could you use spirit magic to find someone who...doesn’t belong, a strange life force perhaps? Similar to how you found Vulpine?” Vic asked.

Anders shook his head. “I could find Vulpine, because I had a pretty good idea where she would have gone to hide, so I just felt out through the Undercroft until I found an elf girl and knew it was her. Very few people tend to be in the Undercroft at any given time. But to hunt through the two thousand people here in Skyhold? No,” he shook his head. “That’s far more than I could do, and you saw how exhausted I was just trying to find her.”

“Anders possesses a remarkable talent, but it does have its limits, alas,” remarked Dorian.

“It was just a thought love, we’ll just have to be viligant until the last one is caught. Come on, we should go over this whole thing with Meneris before you all go to the capital. I just hope that Callus and Fenris are having a good talk, he’s given up on getting through to her for now.” Vic replied.

Anders sighed. “She’s... prickly,” he admitted. “But I think she’s slowly warming to me. I think it was when we were comparing notes on escape attempts - my seven to her six.”

“Saying she’s prickly is like saying I used to be a loveable scamp.” Vic retorted. 

“Yes, well you didn’t have whip scars all down your back before your sixteenth summer, love; I can guarantee you’d be prickly too if you had,” said Anders quietly. He glanced away.

“That’s true, but I was an asshole by my tenth summer. Either way, I know he’s accepted she hates him and isn’t going to try with her again. Not after that last screaming match; I don’t blame him.” Vic got to his feet and nodded towards the door. “The Inquisitor’s office would be better suited for reviewing our plan so let’s go.”

 

**

Fenris was still cautious with Callus, even though the younger man had warmed towards him. He offered him a glass of wine before he poured his own. “ _Any plans for when your training is done?_ ” 

The other elf shrugged. “ _We’ve hardly been here a month, I am still acclimating to it here. All I know is that Zevran has extracted a promise not to join the Crows. Other than that, I’ve no idea. I’m still learning how to be free Fenris._ ” 

“ _It will be hard, sometimes I still feel as if I don’t know what it means sometimes._ ” Fenris reached into his drawer and slid a letter over to Callus. “ _In case anything befalls me during this trip. I don’t trust anyone in Minrathous no matter the title over my head. Your sister will be taken care of as well, even if she despises me._ ” 

Cal read over the document, his frown deepening. “ _This is...a lot to leave the two of us._ ” 

“ _I know it will not make up for lost time should I meet my end, but I will not see you sent back to slavery. I’m just glad you were allowed to learn your letters and sums as part of your...service. Your sister does not have that advantage as I understand it._ ” Fenris at Callus with a sad smile. 

“ _I am grateful you allowed me a chance to know you, I hope we can continue once I’ve returned from this trip._ ” the older elf said before he topped up his drink. 

“ _What was the point in hating you? I’m a bit more lenient than my sibling, and as you say I have advantages she does not. I’m surprised she even has warmed to Anders, though you know she’s using him for his knowledge._ ” Cal folded the document and put it away before he resumed drinking.

“ _I know, as he does. I’ve given up on reaching out to her, if she ever wishes to allow me in her life, I’ll be here. For now, it is what it is, it still hurts but that too will fade in time._ ” Fenris finished his drink before he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “ _Anything else you’d know of me before we have to go down for lunch?_ ”

Callus shook his head, content to sit and be quiet while they had the chance. 

***

Invictus rose at the bell that closed out the lunch hour, and walked to where the others waited, hand tight in Fenris’. “I love you, be careful ok? If anything happens bring them back.”

“Love you too Vic, take care of Anders and Zevran for me.” He leaned in for a kiss and then turned to the others to bid them farewell. He held onto Anders for a long time after the mage had pulled away from their kiss. 

Anders leaned in against Fenris. “I’m frightened for you, love,” he whispered. “Please - be careful.”

“I will, you keep them safe, and yourself even if I have to fly back I will for you.” Fenris gave him another kiss then picked Zevran up for a long kiss and a whispered plea to look out for the kids.

“I will, _carissimi_ ,” vowed Zevran. “And I shall keep our healer safe until you return.”

“Thanks love.” Fenris put him down and went to Dorian. “Ready?”

Dorian glanced back to Meneris, then turned to Fenris and nodded. “A portal then?” He stepped away and shook out his arms as porters moved to pick up their trunks. Arden moved into position next to Fenris, glancing over his shoulder at Hal briefly before turning his attention back to Dorian.

The altus held his hands close together and frowned, concentrating, then abruptly flung his arms wide as the shifting green shimmer of a portal sprang into existence before him. He delicately plucked a tendril of energy from the portal’s surface then extended his other hand back to Fenris. 

The tall elf took Dorian’s hand and ignited his brands, and everyone had to briefly shade their eyes as the portal suddenly flashed with brilliant green-white fire; a moment later, when they could see clearly again, they could see through the portal into what appeared to be a large office space, decorated in Tevene style, and a waft of hot, scented air breezed from the portal.

The porters carried through their luggage then returned to the Skyhold side as Arden and Fenris stepped through into the Minrathous side; a moment later, Dorian strode to follow them. He turned and sketched an elaborate, graceful bow to those left behind before straightening and snapping his fingers.

The portal abruptly collapsed in upon itself with an almost silent pop of inrushing air, and then they were gone as those left behind glanced at each other.

“Show-off,” muttered Anders with a wry grin.

“Well he has to make a grand entrance to return home love, both of them. I am going to be worried until they return you know.” Vic said as he wrapped an arm around Anders and kissed him. 

“He was dreading going back, and now I won’t be there with him and - Maker, did I do the right thing? I know Arden’s a powerful mage and a Hawke but - Oh Vic, I will not rest easy until he’s back.” He leaned into Invictus’ embrace and closed his eyes as he drew a shaky breath.

Hal stared at the spot where the portal had been for several minutes then seemed to give himself a shake. He turned on his heel and began to head towards the doors.

“Hal?” called Anders. “Hal, are you alright?”

The red-haired mage gave no sign he’d even heard him, striding swiftly away down the long, empty hall.

“Maker...he’d wanted to go with Fenris and with all that happened he’s been left here, and Arden is there. We better check on him later.” Vic said as he looked over to Callus but didn’t let himself think too hard on anyone but his husband.

Anders nodded. “Maker, let nothing go wrong,” he murmured half to himself.

Zevran turned away, his own expression grave. “Invictus, would you remain with Anders please?” he asked quietly. “There is yet the matter of one last assassin. I would have Anders safeguarded whilst I hunt.”

“Of course love, be safe and find them. We’ll be in my rooms.” Vic said before he led Anders away.

Anders let himself be led away without protest. “I hope he catches the last assassin quickly,” he said quietly as they made their way towards Invictus’ rooms. “It’s a disturbing thought that Sebastian was so willing to risk possible war with the Inquisition that he’d send assassins after me.”

“Once they are back, Fenris and I are going to make an unofficial visit to Starkhaven.” Vic murmured as they walked. 

“For once, I am not going to stop you, love, though Maker knows far too many have died for my sake already,” Anders sighed. “But after what they did to Arden - no, I will not tell you that you mustn’t.”

“Mustn’t do what, I have no idea what you mean Anders.” Vic said as they rounded the corner to his door. “Come on, you look tired and need a nap.”

“I have no idea why I’m suddenly so tired,” murmured Anders. “Worry, perhaps. I just hope everything goes well with this diplomatic mission.” He pushed open the door to Invictus’ rooms with his good hand, glancing back at the other mage as he entered. “There’s just so many things that -”

He got no further as a hand suddenly tightened around his throat and he was flung hard against the wall; he barely had breath to scream as he briefly saw light flash from the blade that flew towards his throat.

Invictus jumped in the way of the blade instead of throwing up a shield, he turned to cast and grunted as magebane cut him from his power. “Shield and scream your damned head off!” 

Anders threw up the shield hastily and screamed a bloodcurdling cry that had guards erupting into the room in seconds, swords out as they fanned out in front of the two mages to face off against the black-clad assassin. There was a muttered curse that sounded distinctly Antivan and feminine, as the assassin backed away then hurled something at the floor. There was the sound of shattering glass and then black smoke swiftly filled the room.

Anders cried out briefly behind Invictus, and then there was the sound of more glass shattering before a cool breeze stirred their hair. By the time the smoke had dispersed, the assassin was gone, and Anders had slumped to the ground behind Invictus, clutching his head dizzily.

“Get Zevran, and Callus we need everyone on hand to find her.” Vic grumbled before he slid down next to Anders. “I’m...going to be sick, how do you stand this?”

Anders laughed breathlessly. “You can get used to anything in time,” he murmured. “Try living on it for a whole year. Or rather, don’t - I wouldn’t recommend the experience.” He lowered his hand and stared at the blood covering his palm. “I’m bleeding,” he said in surprise.

“What? How are you bleeding?” Vic asked in a panic as he started to look over his husband. “Get Hal, NOW.”

Anders looked up, and Invictus saw he was bleeding from a gash above his left eye, near the hairline. As he glanced up, he spotted the dagger embedded in the wall at about Anders’ head-height, and realised Anders must have turned his head at what would have been the fateful moment when the assassin had flung her blade; Anders had escaped death by a hairsbreadth.

“Should we get them back here? I am not certain I feel safe with them gone not a half hour and this happening.” Vic breathed as he leaned back and tried to keep from throwing up. 

“No,” said Anders, shaking his head and instantly regretting it as the motion made him only more dizzy and succeeded merely in scattering blood. He fell back against the wall and closed his eyes. “No, the diplomatic mission is too important. And if it’s called off, then Sebastian will know he’s succeeded - at least in disrupting the mission and denying us potential valuable allies. Tevinter is too close to Starkhaven’s borders for him to risk an alliance between the Imperium and the Inquisition.” He closed his eyes. “Tired,” he murmured.

“Me too love, me too. Hopefully Hal will get here and be able to heal us. We need to find a safe place to be while Zev works.” Vic sounded tired and not right. “Just hope nothing else was on that blade. Should threw a shield up.” 

Anders was silent; when Invictus finally glanced at him, the other mage had slumped against the wall, his head fallen forward with his eyes closed.

“No...no, no. Open your eyes dammit.” Vic crawled over to Anders and slapped his face. “Come on!”

Suddenly the room was far too full of people - people talking too loudly, calling orders, whilst Anders was too still, too silent, too pale. Hal was suddenly there beside him, as was Parcival; hands were pulling him away from Anders, and somehow Meneris was there, talking to him, as Zevran crouched over Anders, peering at the cut, and people were talking at him and nothing made sense.

“I’ve been hit with magebane, can’t heal. Get...Hal, can’t lose him.” Vic said before he passed out next to Anders.

It seemed only a few minutes between closing his eyes and opening them again to find Zevran staring down at him with what he could only think of as anxious concern.

“Vic? Invictus?” said the elf softly, as not entirely trusting the evidence of his eyes that Invictus was actually awake once more.

“Hmm, lemme sleep, shoulder hurts...magebane.” Vic slurred.

Zevran gave a soft sigh of relief. “You had me worried, my heart, though not as much as Anders,” he said quietly.

That got the brunt mage to sit up and regret it. “Where is he, is he alright?!” Vic asked as he tried to get to his feet. 

Zevran leaned back and caught Invictus’ arm before the dizzy mage could topple over again. “He has not regained consciousness,” he said tersely. “The poison upon the blade is... not one I recognise.” He glanced away, his ears drooping a little as he made the admission.

“Get Fenris home, if Anders...if Anders...if..” Vic couldn’t bring himself to say it, not even if it was to pass. Invictus groaned as he tried to straighten. “I’m going to find whoever made the formula for magebane and skin them alive. Feels like my sides are on fire.”

“We cannot get Fenris home,” said Zevran with an apologetic look. “I will send crows immediately after I get you to the infirmary, but they will take at least two, three days to reach Minrathous - if the weather is fair.”

Callus came back to see Zevran holding up Invictus. “ _Anders is under guard and Hal is looking after him as requested._ ”

“Thank you...help me to the Infirmary please?” Vic asked as he tried to stand and not throw up on Zevran. 

***

Vulpine made her way on silent bare feet down the rows of beds in the infirmary. Most of the beds were empty, though she spotted Invictus sleeping in a bed near the desk. Parcival was away upon some errand or other, as was Hal it seemed. Down at the far end of the room she spied a chantry sister checking on another patient.

She made her way to the first of the private rooms and tried the door carefully. It opened silently and she poked her head around the door then breathed a silent sigh of relief; she’d found Anders’ room on the first try. The blond mage lay unconscious in the bed, his face pale. A young girl who looked to be no more than maybe nine or ten sat in a chair beside the bed, staring at him anxiously. Her hair was the same shade of dark gold as that of Anders’; tucked behind her ears, it revealed that they were not rounded as most humans’, but instead ever so slightly pointed and lobeless.

The girl looked around as Vulpine let herself in.

“You must be Ellowynne, Anders’ daughter,” said the elf as she closed the door behind her. Ellowynne stared at her, then slowly nodded her head.

“You’re Daddy’s apprentice, aren’t you?” she asked. Vulpine blinked.

“I guess I am,” she nodded. “I’m Vulpine.”

Ellowynne nodded again. “Daddy’s mentioned you. He says you’re very strong in Spirit magic.”

Vulpine grinned as she came to stand on the other side of Anders’ bed. “He told you that? Well, your Daddy is a very good teacher.” She glanced at Anders. “He’s surrounded by healing spirits; I can feel them. Can you?”

Ellowynne shook her head. “I’m not as strong at Spirit magic as you or Daddy,” she replied. “I’m very good at Elemental magic though. Daddy says I make bigger fireballs than any apprentice my age he’s ever seen.”

“Is that so?” asked Vulpine, impressed in spite of herself. “Remind me to always be on your side in a fight.” She grinned, and Ellowynne returned it - hesitant at first then more confidently.

Vulpine glanced back down at Anders, and her smile slowly faded.

“I’m worried about Daddy,” said Ellowynne unhappily. “He won’t wake up. I... I’m a little scared.”

“So am I, kid,” admitted Vulpine. They shared a glance of understanding.

The door opened unexpectedly, and the chantry sister Vulpine had seen earlier entered then carefully closed the door behind her before she glanced to the two girls. 

“You’re not meant to be here,” she scolded with a note of annoyance.

“This is my Daddy!” protested Ellowynne.

“And I’m his apprentice,” growled Vulpine. “We’re not leaving. We have every right to be here.”

“And who are you anyway?” demanded Ellowynne in an indignant tone. “You’re not Sister Rebecca! In fact, I’ve never seen you before!”

“Well, this is unfortunate,” said the sister with a frown. “I suppose I have no choice but to deal with you two brats first.” She pulled a pair of lethal-looking curved blades and stepped towards the bed. “And then I’ll finish what I started.”

“You’re not going to hurt my Daddy!” exclaimed Ellowynne, horrified as she leapt forward and leaned protectively over Anders’ unconscious body, stretching her arms out.

The woman laughed. “And who’s going to stop me - you?”

“No,” said Vulpine suddenly. “Me.” She waved a hand and a barrier sprang up around the bed, Ellowynne and herself before she lifted her hand to her head and unleashed a tightly-concentrated mind blast that struck the assassin hard; as the woman screamed in pain and was flung hard back against the closed door with a loud thud, the barrier flickered then glowed brighter.

Vulpine lowered her hand from her head then held up both hands, palms uppermost and closed her eyes as she concentrated. From somewhere unseen, a sudden breeze sprang up, stirring their hair even as the assassin got groggily to her feet. 

Then they all heard it; whispering voices, something unseen moving swiftly around the room. Small twinkling lights seemed to trail in the wake of whatever it was as the indistinct voices grew louder.

“Spirits!” said Ellowynne in a hushed voice.

Vulpine opened her eyes and stared at the assassin. “Hurt her. Protect us.”

The breeze grew stronger, and suddenly the assassin cried out as something struck her at high speed. Then she was buffeted to the other side by an unseen blow; before she could recover, yet another strike spun her around.

“Ellowynne. Lightning to stun her.”

“I’m better at fire,” said Ellowynne in a worried tone.

“If you fireball her in a space this small, you’ll toast us and your father too,” said Vulpine as she kept her eyes on the spirits. She saw no reason to mention that she didn’t want the younger girl to be the one to kill the assassin.

Ellowynne nodded then drew a deep breath before unleashing a lightning bolt that struck the assassin square in the chest and dropped her, stunned into near insensibility.

“Now turn away and don’t look,” Vulpine said in a tone that would brook no dissent. Ellowynne gave her a frightened look then swallowed hard and turned her face away, burying it against Anders’ chest. 

Vulpine gestured, and the glowing bars of energy of a crushing prison spell formed around the stunned assassin. The elf glared at the woman as she forced the cage tight around the woman, binding her crushingly tight. 

Vulpine clapped her hands together, and with a sickening crunch the cage snapped closed as blood sprayed up the door and spread across the floor. The elf stepped forward and stared down at the unrecognisable lump of severed flesh and bones that once had been a woman, and she grinned in grim satisfaction.

The door suddenly opened and Zevran, Meneris and her brother Callus were staring at her in shocked surprise, their glances then going down to the bloodied lumps of flesh and bone that were all that remained of the assassin, then back up to Vulpine. Behind her, Ellowynne’s face was still pressed to Anders’ chest, her eyes tightly closed. Anders had not stirred even once and lay there, as pale and still as before.

“Caught your missing assassin,” Vulpine shrugged as she lifted a hand to wipe blood off her face, leaving a long smear across her cheek. Her legs were liberally spattered with blood, and her grin was almost feral. In that moment, neither Zevran nor Meneris were left in any doubt that she was truly Fenris’ daughter.

“Are you alright?!” Callus cried as he went over to his sister. “Who taught you how to do that?” he asked shakily.

“I’m fine,” she shrugged. “Just some spell Anders taught me, and I... pushed it farther than he’d shown me. It was more effective than I thought.” She grinned.

“ _Stop….smiling like that it scares me when you do that._ ” Callus said as he looked to his sister and hugged her. 

Meneris made a face at the mess then at Vulpine. “So much for interrogating her, someone get Anders moved to a secure room, get her some clean clothes and Zevran, I’ll leave you to this investigation. Will you send word to Fenris?” 

“My first duty is to my step-daughter,” replied Zevran grimly as he stepped over the remains of the assassin and moved to Ellowynne’s side. He bent over the child and murmured something; after a moment she nodded, and turned towards him without glancing back towards the door. Zevran lifted her up in his arms and she buried her face against his shoulder with her eyes tightly screwed shut. Zevran carefully carried her out of the room and headed off in search of the twins.

Vulpine was wiping unsuccessfully at the blood speckling her top and frowned. “ _I’m going to need a bath I think,_ ” she said. “ _Stop fussing, Cal, I’m alright!_ ”

“You could have died!” Callus snapped at her. Vulpine scoffed.

“I threw up a barrier first so she couldn’t get near any of us, and then I hit her with a mind blast. Trust me, she wasn’t any threat after that. ‘Wynne zapped her and then I hit her with the crushing prison. Slice and dice and done.”

“Still, you gave us all a fright Vulpine. Go on and get a bath, Callus do you mind helping me with this?” Meneris said.

“Yeah, a bath sounds good,” she nodded. Now the adrenaline was leaving her body, she was feeling decidedly shaky, though there was no way she was going to let on in front of the Inquisitor or her brother.

“Once you’re cleaned up, please come by my office so I can get a report of what happened. Thank you for helping to protect Anders and Ellowynne.” Meneris said before he turned to Callus so they could see what, if anything was left to discover of the assassin.

Vulpine shrugged and then pulled away from her brother. She stepped gingerly over the remains of the woman, inwardly cringing at the feel of the sticky, congealing blood upon her bare feet, and then she headed off at not quite a run towards her own room, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in her wake.

Her hands were shaking, and if she stopped moving she suspected the rest of her would be too if she stopped walking. She felt sick to her stomach and broke into a run. She barely made it to the nearest privy in time before she threw up, her stomach emptying itself noisily. Once it was over, she wiped her mouth with a hand that shook badly; and as she tasted blood on her lips she retched again. 

She staggered out of the privy, her whole body now shaking in reaction to the adrenaline comedown and the realisation of what she’d done. She’d _killed a woman_ \- and in a particularly gruesome and horrible fashion.She was filled with self-loathing and remorse. She fled to her room and ran a bath, thankful for the dwarven plumbing as she made the water as hot as she could stand then stripped and climbed in.

She scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed until her skin was raw and stinging, but she could still feel the touch of the blood on her skin. Frantic, she scrubbed harder until finally she curled in upon herself, weeping hysterically.

She stayed there until the water had cooled and her shaking was as much from the cold as from her reaction to having become a killer.

***

Dorian stared at the letter in stunned dismay.

“When?” he asked, his voice not much more than a shocked whisper.

“Four days ago, Lord Pavus. I left directly Lady Pavus had written this letter and I have not stopped save for fresh horses.” The messenger stared at him.

“I-I see,” said Dorian dazedly. He got to his feet and began to pace slowly, staring at the letter in his hand, barely able to comprehend it.

It was most certainly written by his mother’s hand; he had no doubt about that - or that the news it contained was the truth.

“Will there be a reply, Lord Pavus?”

Dorian shook his head. “Not - not just yet. Please go to the kitchen and inform the cook that you are to be given suitable refreshment and that it is my wish you be given a bed so you may rest after your long journey. I shall have a reply for you to bear back in the morning.”

“Very good, ser,” replied the messenger. He made to turn away but paused and glanced back at the altus who was almost white-faced with shock. “My... condolences, ser.”

“Thank you,” replied Dorian distantly as he fell into a chair and stared through the letter in his hands.

Fenris found him like that perhaps an hour afterwards.

“Amicus?” Fenris asked as he shut the door behind him and approached the other man carefully.

“He’s dead,” said Dorian in a faint, slightly trembling voice. “My - my father. He’s dead. Assassinated by his enemies. Halward. He’s - gone.” He blinked, and a tear rolled down his face. “I never got to say goodbye. To... to make amends. He’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry, what do you need?” Fenris asked as he knelt before his friend, unsure what the Altus needed or would want from him.

“I-I don’t know,” confessed Dorian. “He....” He broke off, and suddenly his face contorted in anger. “The _bastard_ \- he knew! He _knew_! He knew they were coming for him, that he was going to die - _that’s_ why he set this whole thing up - me, the bloody ambassador to the Inquisition! It was all to get me as far away from Tevinter as he possibly could! Always manipulating, right up to the end - he was protecting me, because he _knew_ he was going to die!” He’d crumpled the letter in his sudden anger. “And now the bloody idiot is _dead_ and it was all for nothing because here I am in Tevinter and my father is dead and I - and I -” His face crumpled. “Damn him,” he whispered. “Damn you, Halward Pavus. You’re dead and there’s nothing I can do about it and you even robbed me of the chance to say goodbye.”

He slowly crumpled in upon himself, shoulders shaking as he finally gave in to the soft release of tears. “Hold me,” he begged in a broken whisper. “Please.”

Fenris sat and pulled Dorian into his arms to let the other man grieve. “ _I’m so sorry amicus, I wish I could take the pain away._ ” he whispered to him.

“I never got to say goodbye,” Dorian repeated again softly. “That’s - that’s what hurts the most. After all he’s done to me, how he betrayed me, turned on me - the years of telling me what a disappointment I was, what a foul, perverse creature I was for daring to love men instead of doing my duty and marrying some fine upstanding noble broodmare and making fine upstanding little perfectly bred brats - but I’d forgive him all of that in an instant if it meant I could say goodbye.” He lifted his head to stare at Fenris, his eyes red-rimmed and raw. “Even after everything he did to me, I - I still loved him. He was my father. And - and I’ll never be able to tell him that. Not ever.” He bowed his head and wept brokenly. 

Fenris held him closer and started to rock back and forth. He felt a lump in his throat as he listened to Dorian sobbing. “Amicus, do you want to go back to Skyhold after his service? Don’t answer right now, just hold on to me as long as you need.” 

Dorian fought to calm his sobs, focusing on calming his breathing. “I - I can’t,” he finally managed. “I’ll have to appear before the magisterium; with my father dead, I inherit his title and his place. I’m no longer an altus but a magister.” He lifted his head again and gave Fenris a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry, amicus. Please forgive me.”

Fenris kissed him on the forehead and gave him a sad smile. “You’ve done nothing that I need to forgive. Magister is a title, you’ve well proven it’s not who you are, well in the sense I’ve come to know it. I know you did not want it, not like this so I harbor no anger over it. You’ve just gotten terrible news, it would be ill done of me to hate you for it.” 

Dorian gave a long, low sigh. “I am a terrible mess. My kohl must be halfway down my face by now, and no doubt I look most unattractively blotchy. Is my nose red?” He gave Fenris a tremulous smile as he tried to retreat behind his customary bravado; but he could feel the mask slipping and he hung his head. “Oh, what’s the use of pretending?” he sighed. “Maker, I need a drink. Several drinks, in fact. Amicus, would you think the less of me if I admit I have a deep desire to drink myself insensible right now?”

“Not at all, I’ll keep watch over you if that’s what you need.” Fenris untangled himself and poured them both a stiff drink. Once Dorian had his in hand, the elven warrior clinked the rim of his tumbler against his friend and took a sip. 

“And everything had been going so well,” murmured Dorian after he’d taken a large swallow of his drink. “The magisterium are practically falling over themselves to court ‘Anders’’ favour. It couldn’t have gone better if Leliana had orchestrated it. We’ve had offers of alliance from over half of the magisters in Minrathous alone, and invitations to discuss matters from half a dozen more. Arden has done a sterling job, I have to say. I was looking forward to going home in a week and seeing Josie’s face when I hand her the letters of commission and pledges - and now everything will be horribly complicated and it’ll likely take anywhere up to a month to get my father’s estate settled.”

“We can send ‘Anders’ home and I will stay if you like, I don’t feel right leaving you here alone.” Fenris offered before he took another sip then leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “I could use time ...away anyway.”

“I couldn’t in all conscience ask that of you; I know you’d been utterly dreading coming back to Tevinter, amicus,” said Dorian before taking another long pull at his drink.

“Right now, I’m dreading going more. You are my friend and I will not leave you to deal with this alone. As soon as I broke Lord Belleson’s wrist, the rest of them got the hint that I’m no longer property.” Fenris topped up his drink and Dorian’s. “I’ve got other reasons but the main one is I won’t leave you to this alone. Unless you’d rather have Meneris with you during this time.”

Dorian shrugged dolefully. “I’m not sure there’s much he could do, and in any case he’s needed in Skyhold.” He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “No, I shall pull on my big boy pants and deal with this as befits Magister Pavus of Minrathous - which is to say, in public I shall be the very model of decorum, and in private I shall get horrendously drunk.”

“I’ll join you in that part of it and the offer is there if you want. I can’t imagine you are safe with him being killed. Having a dragon at your side could be useful amicus.” Fenris offered.

“You do have a point,” conceded Dorian with a wave of his glass. “Most feuds here in Tevinter after all _do_ tend to be ‘slaughter your enemy and all his issue’ affairs, and they’ll likely come after me next. They’ve had four days over me already, after all.” He sighed, then hauled himself to his feet. “I feel ratty and out of sorts and... ugh. I think I shall take a bath, change into something more comfortable, and then if you will indulge me I think I shall drink myself into oblivion, amicus.”

“Shall I guard you then? I should let ‘Anders’ know then so people don’t gossip about the Ambassador leaving his husband alone. Though he will be tied up in meetings for the forseeable future. Go on, I’ll be in here with this fine drink and my thoughts. Unless you want something else from me?” Fenris looked down at his drink as he waited.

“I don’t think I shall be in any fit state for that,” said Dorian ruefully. “I shall be back in half an hour.” He nodded to Fenris, then headed off towards his rooms. 

He threw aside the formal robes he’d been wearing all day for meetings and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, then turned to fetch a towel.

He had a brief second to register that he wasn’t alone before he felt something like a punch to the gut. He doubled over, and then indescribable pain exploded in his belly. He stared down to see the sword in the man’s hand.

The sword that was now embedded in his guts.

Dorian screamed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's life is not yet out of danger, and that of Anders hangs in the balance.

Fenris dropped his glass and bolted down to Dorian’s room when he heard the other man’s pained screaming. He didn’t stop and think of what could have made the magister scream, he simply battered the door open and found Dorian on the floor with his would-be assassin looming over him. 

Dorian was huddled upon the floor, one hand clutching desperately at the spreading dark red stain soaking through his shirt, the other hand outstretched and held vertical, palm upraised as he held a barrier spell over himself, his face twisted in pain as he lay in the pool of spreading blood, his face ashen. Fenris didn’t pause to consider the tremendous strength of will it must be taking for the magister to cast the barrier spell through the agony of the gut wound but lit up his brands as he launched himself at the would-be assassin with a spine-chilling snarl, his nails elongating into talons as he drew upon the power of the dragon and leapt.

The swordsman turned and swung his blade in an arc to meet Fenris’ outstretched claws but the elf deftly dodged, inhumanely fast as he shifted into the form of a lyrium ghost. The man took a step back but Fenris was insanely fast. The fight was hard yet the end inevitable and swift.

Fenris stood over the man’s body as he let the lyrium brands fade once more, the man’s heart in one bloodied hand. He’d not broken a sweat and he was not even breathing particularly hard.

He turned towards Dorian as he cast aside the heart and dropped to his knees beside the stricken man. “Amicus! How bad is it? Where -”

Dorian had dropped the spell, unable to maintain it any longer than necessary. He lay huddled upon the floor, both hands clenched over the wet stain, eyes closed; at Fenris’ words, his eyes slowly opened, the soft grey glazed with pain as he rolled slowly over onto his back and lifted up his hands briefly to show the gash in his abdomen, the curls of viscera visible, gleaming wetly with blood before he clutched both hands to the terrible wound with a groan, teeth gritted against the pain, forehead beaded with sweat, his life ebbing steadily away with the blood welling up between his bloody fingers. Fenris swore.

The sound of running footsteps that halted at the door had him glancing around; Arden stood there, staring down at Dorian for a moment in shocked surprise before he threw himself down upon his knees next to the dying magister, uncaring of the blood that was soaking into his fine ceremonial robes as he pressed his hands over those of Dorian and channelled healing magic into the terrible wound.

“Going to need lyrium for this one,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Fenris unhesitatingly held out his hand and lit his brands.

“Take all you need,” he urged the mage. Arden merely nodded, lifting one hand to lace his fingers with those of the elf; and then Fenris felt it - the pull of magic upon his brands, his body a living conduit from the Fade through Arden to heal Dorian’s dying body, arresting the flow of blood as Arden began to weave his rent and torn body back together from the inside.

Dorian had lapsed into unconsciousness, the pain, bloodloss and shock simply too much for him to withstand. His limp hands remained in place, pressed against the healing wound by Arden’s hand as he continued to pour healing into the Tevinter mage’s unconscious body.

Muscle rewove itself and then the skin drew closed once more over Dorian’s stomach, fresh scar tissue a shiny pink against his tawny skin; and finally Arden let the magic trickle away as he released Fenris’ hand. He would have fallen had Fenris not caught him in time.

Dorian’s hands fell limply to his sides and he lay there, unconscious but whole once more. A little colour had returned to his cheeks, though he was still worryingly pale.

“Arden?” said Fenris in a low rumble. “What do you need?”

“Sleep,” answered the blond mage tiredly. “Maker, but I’d forgotten how much healing takes it out of me. I’m not a spirit healer like Anders or Hal.” He managed to rouse himself a little. “He’s lost a lot of blood and it will take him a while to recover; the scar is very fresh so he should rest for a couple of days and take it easy after that. He’ll be in some discomfort for a while but he’ll live.”

They stared at Dorian, his clothes soaked with blood, the tear in his shirt showing bloodstained skin and the fresh pink scar all too clearly.

“Need to get him cleaned up and into bed,” said Arden wearily as servants and guards suddenly poured into the room, belatedly roused to investigate the screams; Calpernia amongst them. She stared down at Dorian and the blood, then her eyes narrowed at the dead body of the swordsman. 

“Get that out of here,” she ordered. “Strip the body and note everything - I want to know who he was, who sent him, who paid him. Find answers.” She turned and glared at the servants. “You two!” she snapped, glaring at two women. “Undress and bathe Lord Pavus - you,” she added, gesturing to two men, “Assist them. Carry him to the bathing chamber - carefully, mind; if his wound reopens it’ll be _your_ guts I’ll be spilling next, you hear me? Dress the wound afterwards then put him to bed.” She turned to the guards. “Check the perimeters of the compound, secure it. There may be other assassins. I want to know how he got in and I want a full report on my desk within two hours, am I understood?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” answered the commanding officer as he snapped a salute and began issuing orders to the other men.

“And I want this blood cleaned up and not a trace left by the time the Ambassador is in bed!” Calpernia snapped, before turning at last to Arden and Fenris as the servants began carefully lifting Dorian and carrying him to the bathing chamber.

“How is he?” she asked Fenris, her voice softening at last.

“He’ll be fine, I think after some rest. He’s no stranger to blood and pain. I think I might need to send a missive to Skyhold.” Fenris replied quietly.

Calpernia nodded as she stared down at the blond mage. “The news is spreading through the magisterium like wildfire that Magister Pavus is dead, assassinated. Seems someone tried to make sure the same held true for the son as the father.”

“I should have come with him, knowing his father had been killed and he wasn’t himself.” Fenris said as he stared at the bloodied carpet. “I’m taking Anders to my room for a bath, please have Dorian brought there as well. I would feel better with us all together until all the assassins are found, Calpernia.” 

She nodded. “Makes sense,” she agreed. “I’ll have an extra bed brought to your room for Dorian. I’ll also have food sent for Anders; I dare say after expending that much energy to save Dorian’s life he’ll need to eat before sleeping. I doubt Dorian will rouse enough to eat much before morning but I’ll have potions sent to your room in case he wakes in pain.”

“Thank you Calpernia. If it’s handy, please send a bottle of Starkhaven malt for me along with something to eat.” Fenris picked up ‘Anders’ and kissed him on the cheek. “If you’d get the door?”

Calpernia nodded. “Once you’re all settled I’ll have to go take a patrol around the grounds myself. Can’t trust these bloody magisters; doubt they’d settle just for mundane means to take down one of their own.” She pulled the door open and held it as Fenris carried Arden into the hall, the blond mage drowsily protesting that he could walk, honest. Calpernia snorted then strode ahead of them to open doors for Fenris until they arrived at Fenris’ rooms.

“Starkhaven malt is it? Right, I’ll have it sent to you along with the food,” she nodded, then left them to it.

“Yes, thank you.” Fenris shut the door with an awkward kick before he carried Arden into the bathing chamber and swiftly got them rinsed off before he ran the bath. 

“I wish Vic and Anders were really here.” he said as he tugged his clothes off while trying to keep ‘Anders’ upright. 

“I’m alright, Fenris - really,” protested Arden wearily. “Just incredibly tired.” He rubbed his eyes as he swayed a little.

“You’re about to fall on your face, let me take care of you Anders.” Fenris said with a glance to do the door. “ _I already slipped once, we don’t know who is around or if there are ways to listen to us. So let me treat you as I would him._ ” Fenris whispered rapidly.

Arden nodded his head in resignation. “Alright love,” he sighed. The endearment came without conscious thought; he was more than halfway asleep and it was all too easy to forget that this wasn’t _his_ Fenris.

The elven warrior got them cleaned up as quickly as he could then put ‘Anders’ into a fluffy robe before he put him in their bed. He’d just gotten cleaned up when a servant entered and left their tray with a short bow. Two other servants arrived directly afterwards, carrying a single cot which they set up in a corner of the room and rapidly it made up with fresh bedlinen before Dorian was brought in upon a stretcher. The magister was still unconscious, his wound now bandaged protectively; his hair was damp and he’d been clad in a simple dark red robe that only served to emphasize how pale he still was. They laid him carefully in the bed and then a serving woman fussed over him, tucking him in carefully before they withdrew, bowing to Fenris and Arden before drawing the door closed silently behind them.

The three men were alone.

***

Vulpine stared at herself in the mirror and bit her lip as she tugged the long tunic straight for perhaps the fifth time and sighed. Her face was no longer blotchy from crying, but she still looked a little pale and shaky. She scowled, then ran a hand through her red hair.

She didn’t want to talk to the Inquisitor, but it was unlikely she’d have much choice in the matter. He wanted a report on what had happened in Anders’ room, and he could hardly demand Ellowynne tell him. Anders certainly couldn’t. That left only her.

“I’m not afraid of some jumped up Dalish boy!” she declared defiantly. _Liar_ , the reflection seemed to say. She hated how thin and weak her voice sounded, even to herself.

She drew a deep breath. Better get this over with before he sent someone to fetch her. That would be even more humiliating than puking then crying by herself in a cold bath.

She tugged the long sleeveless tunic straight a sixth time then turned and reached for the staff that stood by the door. As tall as she was, it was silverite with a leaf-shaped blade at the foot, topped by twin silver snakes in a caduceus shape, their eyes set with red stones as they bared sharp fangs at each other. She had mixed feelings about the staff; it looked a little too Tevene for her liking - like something a magister might use, such as that Dorian guy. On the other hand, it had been a gift from Anders.

She slung the staff on her back. She felt inexplicably safer somehow with it there. She wished she’d had it with her earlier when she’d visited Anders.

She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.

Meneris looked up and gave her a smile, and noted how much she reminded him of Fenris. He dared not say that, but the resemblance was there whether she liked it or not, especially in personality. Instead he poured them both wine and nodded at her to take a seat. 

“Relax Vulpine, you’re not in trouble. In fact I’d say you were quite the hero, whether you meant to be or not. Thank you for saving them.” 

She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch the bitch kill a kid and a helpless man,” she said. “Besides, she threatened me too.” She took her glass and waited until she’d seen Meneris take a sip before she cautiously tasted it herself.

The Dalish elf quirked an eyebrow at her language but didn’t bother correcting her. “Still, not everyone would have fought back. I’m sure Ellowynne is grateful for what you did. Speaking of which, how do you feel? Killing someone is never easy, no matter your age when you first take a life.” Meneris leaned back to watch how she reacted, carefully.

She drew a sharp breath. “I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can look after myself just fine.” She took a hasty gulp of her wine to hide how her hands had started to tremble.

“You, young madam, are a terrible liar. Want to hear how I reacted when I first killed someone? It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are upset, or rattled. Do put the wine down before you spill it, your hands are shaking, Vulpine.” Meneris was kind with his words and tone, but he was ready for the girl to storm off in a huff for calling her bluff.

“I told you, I’m fine!” she snapped tersely, but the base of the wine glass rattled a little as she set it down upon the desk. She pressed her hands down firmly on her knees to stop them trembling as she stared at the elf defiantly. She could feel a prickling behind her eyes and she gritted her teeth. _I will not cry. I will not!_ she told herself firmly.

Meneris shrugged and took another sip of his wine. “Fine then, if you wish to have it that way. I simply wanted you to know you are not alone, and you don’t have to throw a wall up with me Vulpine. I know what it’s like to kill before you’re ready.” He paused and considered his glass for a moment before continuing. 

“I was with a small group of hunters, trying to help fill the clan’s pantry before it got too cold or we moved again. Humans had found us, thought it would be good sport to bother the knife-ears as they put it. We had no choice in fighting them because if we didn’t they might find our camp and tell other humans. There are few enough Dalish without us giving away our position. These shems had more bravado than sense, and one charged me, foolish boy.” 

She stared at him. She could see where the story was leading. “You killed him,” she said.

“Oh yes, and no one tells you what it’s like to have that metallic smell hit your nose, feel the tackiness of another’s blood on your face, your weapon. The stench as someone voids out and dies before you. The tales don’t give you the terrible truth about killing another person and how you might feel after. I ran back to the clan with the others, cleaned up and reported to the Keeper like them. What I never really spoke of was how I went to a hot spring and soaked for hours and cried, how I threw up when trying to eat meat and thought of how it felt to pull my blade from his body. The nightmares that came to a fifteen summers old Dalish boy who had to kill before he knew what it meant.” Meneris refilled his glass and leaned back settle himself.

Vulpine had gone pale as he mentioned the metallic scent of blood, and then a sickly look came across her face. He could tell from the way she suddenly clenched her jaw that she was fighting down the urge to be sick; he wondered if she had anything left in her stomach. From the look of dazed recognition in her eyes, he knew he could have been describing her own experience and reactions.

“I don’t think your wine agrees with me,” she murmured, her voice shaking a little.

“The privy is to your right if you feel as if you’ll be sick.” Meneris said quietly as he watched her try to get up and not seem in a hurry before she bolted into the room. He started tea as he waited for her to return. 

When she finally emerged, her eyes were red-rimmed and she was looking decidedly shaky. She made her way back to her chair and sat down, her ears drooping as she stared at the floor. “You... you wanted a report. Ser,” she said quietly, withdrawn, with no trace of her usual bravado.

“First have some tea, and compose yourself. I’m not a harsh man Vulpine and I would have you be comfortable before you have to recount what happened. Take your time, there is no hurry.” Meneris slid a pot of honey to her and motioned to the mint. “Chewing that will help clear the taste from your mouth.”

“I hate mint,” she murmured absently as she reached for the tea. “Tastes too much like the magebane potions my master gave me.” She stirred a small spoonful of honey into her tea then sipped it slowly. The colour slowly returned to her face, though she kept her eyes on the floor. She drank half her tea then lowered her cup. “What do you need to know?”

“How you realized the woman didn’t belong, what you did to protect Anders and Ellowynne and how the assassin wound up rather dead. You may go after that or we can talk if you like, I know too well what it's like to wind up in a new place, with expectations set by people you don’t know. With Callus busy and Anders still unwell, you have no one to speak with really.” Meneris pulled out a parchment and waited for her to start.

“The woman was dressed like a chantry sister. Ellowynne didn’t recognise her. That told me she likely wasn’t who she pretended to be - I should expect any kid of Anders’ would know pretty much everyone in Skyhold, certainly in the infirmary. So I was already on edge before she pulled out her knives,” Vulpine shrugged. “She said she was going to kill us first then finish what she’d started - meaning to kill Anders, I presumed. Ellowynne shouted that she wouldn’t let her hurt her father, and the woman moved towards her. I knew I had to deflect her attention onto me.”

She paused and took a sip of her tea. “I threw up a barrier first to protect ‘Wynne and Anders, then I let her have it with a mind blast. Had to concentrate to aim it only at her; I didn’t want to hurt Wynne, and I have no idea what a mind blast would do to Anders whilst he’s out like that. And then I....” Her voice tailed off as she finally lifted her gaze to glance at Meneris nervously. “I... summoned up spirits. And told them to attack her.” She stared at him and bit her lip unconsciously.

“That’s impressive, something I’d figure only Anders could do.” Meneris smiled at her and topped up her tea. “Go on when you’re ready.”

She took a hasty sip of her tea then went on. “They couldn’t do much - they were spirits, after all, not demons - mostly healing spirits that tend to hang around Anders. They get curious about him. They’re always attracted to spirit healers. But there were others too - wisps, sprites, little... nameless things. There’s always some around, and I can usually get them to follow simple commands.” She glanced at something just over Meneris’ shoulder, and he had to fight the sudden urge to look behind him. “They knocked her about a bit, distracted her. Then I told Wynne to hit her with lightning. She’s better with fire but I didn’t... it wouldn’t be right for a little kid like her - not to do that. I’ve - I’ve seen someone hit with a fireball, it isn’t pretty and... well, she’s only a kid. It _had_ to be me. So, she used a lightning bolt on the woman to stun her, and then I trapped her in a crushing prison. And I told Wynne to look away.” She gulped and looked down.

Meneris sat and waited patiently for Vulpine to pull herself together enough to finish her story. The elf girl hastily gulped her tea, finishing it then settling the cup back on the table as she dropped her glance back to the floor again.

“What did you do then?” prompted Meneris gently.

“I made the crushing prison shrink,” she said very softly. “And I made it keep going until it sliced her to pieces and she was dead.” She swallowed hard as her stomach gave a rebellious heave, and then she began to cry.

Meneris set his cup aside then rose from his seat, making his way around the desk to come stand in front of her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You did what you had to, to save Wynne and Anders. You must have been very frightened, and you were very brave.”

“I couldn’t let her hurt him - not when he’s been so kind to me!” she sobbed. “He’s gentle, and kind, and patient - not at all like a magister, and he makes me feel like what I have to say is important and doesn’t treat me like I’m a piece of dirt or shout at me, and he’s hurt and sick and can’t defend himself. And Wynne’s just a kid! What was I meant to do? She’d have killed them both before anyone came to help! That wasn’t brave, I had no choice!”

“Vulpine, bravery isn’t doing something because you’re not scared,” Meneris said quietly. “It’s being scared but doing it anyway. And I know you’ve never killed before. But you didn’t let that hold you back from doing what had to be done.”

“I used to dream about killing my master,” Vulpine whispered. “I dreamed about it all the time. I never knew what killing someone would really feel like.” Her thin body shuddered as she cried.

“I’ve known men far older than you do far worse the first time,” said Meneris. “And many more that simply froze. You didn’t freeze though. You acted - and not without thought. You protected Anders and Wynne first with the barrier before you attacked. You wouldn’t let Wynne kill. You did it to spare her.” He gently took hold of her arms and tugged her up out of the chair then gave her a gentle hug as she cried. “It’s alright,” he said gently. “It’s over. You’re safe now. Easy there.”

Finally her crying lessened, and after a moment he felt her try to pull away. He released her then made his way back around the desk to pour them both more tea as Vulpine sat down again and wiped at her eyes, a little shamefaced.

“Would you like something to eat, or do you need to go back to your room and rest? Would you like to see Ellowynne maybe?” Meneris asked gently, unwilling to make her upset again.

“If I try to eat right now, I’m going to puke again,” she said as she shook her head. “I’d like to see Ellowynne though - just to make sure she’s alright.” She sniffed, her nose running a little thanks to the crying jag; she wiped it with the back of her hand without thinking. “I should wash my face first.”

“Feel free to use the privy, and when you’re ready I’ll walk you.” Meneris offered as he watched her make her way back to the small wash room.

He heard water splashing, and then after a short time Vulpine re-emerged, her eyes looking less red and her face less blotchy. “Thanks,” she nodded, her gaze not quite meeting his but rather somewhere around his chest. “Don’t say anything to Callus about this,” she added. “He’ll only worry, and bad enough I already embarrassed myself once.” She picked up her staff from where she’d left it leaning against the back of her chair and slung it on her back once more. “Right, I’m ready,” she said.

Meneris arched an eyebrow at her tone but let her be. “As the young madame wishes, let’s go then.” 

They headed back through halls towards the rooms where both Anders and Ellowynne lived. When Meneris tapped on the young girl’s door, it was Zevran who opened it. He glanced at them both in mild surprise.

“We wanted to check on them, and you. May we come in?” Meneris asked quietly.

Zevran inclined his head and opened the door wider. As he closed it behind them, he gestured towards the door that led into Anders’ rooms. “They are both in here,” he said quietly as he led the way.

Ellowynne was sitting quietly in a chair next to her father’s bed, reading. Anders lay much as they had seen him last in the infirmary, pale and silent, still unconscious.

“Hey, Wynne,” said Vulpine. 

The young girl looked up, startled, and then a relieved grin crossed her face. “Pin!” she exclaimed and leapt up from her chair, dropping her book on the seat before running to fling her arms around the startled teen.

“Hey, steady on, imp!” she exclaimed, but there was a wan smile on her face.

"I think we can let the girls catch up while we speak in the other room?" Meneris said quietly. Zevran nodded and returned to Ellowynne’s room, leaving the other elf to pull the door almost closed behind him.

“Anders is the same; there has been no change,” said Zevran quietly. “Whatever this poison is, it is unknown to me. I have no antidote for it. I do not know when he will awaken - if ever.” He sighed softly. “I have sent ravens to Minrathous, but I do not know how long they will take to get there. Tell me - do you have any means of contacting Dorian directly, perhaps like the ring he gave Fenris to speak with his brother?”

Meneris sighed and rubbed his thumb over the ring that he wore. "Yes, shall I try him?"

“With Invictus wounded and in the infirmary and Anders very possibly dying? Inquisitor, I am _begging_ you to try!” exclaimed Zevran in a heated whisper so that his voice would not carry and alarm the girls.

Meneris held his hand up and called Dorians name, hoping to get a reply. Zevran in a panic disturbed him more than he wanted to let on. The Antivan was pacing restlessly, casting frequent glances at the ring as he did so.

“Why does he not answer?” exclaimed the blond elf, his voice near-frantic.

There was another pause before Fenris' voice came through. "Inquisitor?"

“ _Carissimi_?” said Zevran, halting his pacing to stare at the ring in surprise.

"Zevran? What's going on?" Fenris asked.

Zevran stepped closer to Meneris as the Inquisitor lifted his hand with the ring. “ _Carissimi_ , you have no idea how much I have needed to hear your voice,” sighed the Antivan. “My news is not good I fear. We - _I_ need you to come home, my heart. Invictus has been wounded, and Anders....” He groaned as he clutched his hair absently in his agitation. “An assassin, there was poison upon the blade and I do not recognise it - I have no antidote. The assassin escaped but returned to finish what they started as he lay in the infirmary. They would have killed Ellowynne also, but your daughter killed the assassin. _Carissimi_ , you are needed here.”

"Wh...what?!" Fenris exclaimed.

Zevran bit back a small sob. “Anders will not wake up, and Invictus was hit with magebane. I think all the assassins are dead but I cannot say for certain, and - and I dare not leave Anders and Ellowynne in case more come; it was Anders they were after. _Carissimi_ please, I am begging you to come home.”

Meneris was staring at him in alarm as he watched the Antivan slowly falling to pieces in front of him whilst his own fear over the ring being answered by the elf instead of his love slowly grew.

“Zevran...listen to me. Dorian’s father has been killed and an attempt has been made on his life. I will need some time to bring us back. At least enough for Dorian to wake up, I too fear leaving him alone knowing they are looking to make a clean sweep of House Pavus.” Fenris looked down at the sleeping magister then to Arden. 

“Bring him home, damn them and their lies. Or bring me to him, please Fenris.” Meneris begged softly.

The warrior swore as he sat there unsure what to do. “If I bring Dorian home he will be worried for his mother.”

He felt the cool fingers in his grasp briefly twitch as Dorian shifted his head slightly upon the pillow then gave a pained groan; the small sound carried through the link and Meneris’ eyes widened as he heard his love’s voice - and knew Dorian was hurt. His mind began to conjure up visions of Dorian bleeding, dying; Fenris had told him nothing of Dorian’s condition, and in his fear he could only imagine the worst.

“Please bring him home, I beg you.” Meneris said. 

“All right but he will insist on coming back as soon as he can. Have Hal waiting in my rooms, that’s where I’ll bring us.” Fenris replied as he glanced to Arden and then back to his amicus. 

“Alright, it’s where I’ll meet you. Please hurry.” Meneris replied before he jumped up to find the young healer.

“Zevran, if you can wake Invictus do so. I do not want to ...I just need both of you once I’m back. I’ll see you soon my heart.” Fenris let Dorian’s hand drop gently to his side before he wrote a note for Calpernia, and made one of the guards take it to her. The guard saluted and left.

Arden was sitting up and blinking slowly. “Fenris? What’s going on?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“There’s trouble in Skyhold, I need to go back. I’ve instructed the guard to remain here, and another to stay in this room with you until we return.” Fenris said as he carefully picked up Dorian. 

Arden threw the thin covers aside. “No, wait - you shouldn’t move him, not yet!” he said as he swung his legs from the bed. “Fenris, this is - what’s happened?” He reached for a robe, pulling it on hurriedly.

Fenris halted and looked to the blond mage worriedly. “Don’t you remember healing him?”

“Fenris, I’m not Anders,” Arden said softly as he walked over to Dorian’s bedside. “His wounds are barely pulled together as yet. There was a lot of damage inside; the sword ran him through completely. I was able to deal with the damage inside, but the muscles, the skin - it’s barely held together, which is why his wounds need to be dressed for the moment. If you move him too much, the wounds could just open up again.” He sighed. “It’s why he’ll need the potions. He’ll be in pain when he awakens.”

Fenris nodded, and put Dorian back down. “Then I’ll have to take the cot as well, get dressed and we’re going back to Skyhold. Anders has been attacked and Zevran fears the worst.” 

There was a knock at the door, and they both exchanged a glance.

“Fenris, it’s me, Calpernia,” came the woman’s voice. “Come on, I’m not standing in the hall all night.”

Arden wordlessly went to the door and opened it and Calpernia walked in, brandishing Fenris’ note. 

“What bullshit is this?” she demanded.

“I beg your pardon?” Fenris said as he straightened up and glared at her. “What do you think I meant?”

She waved the paper at him. “You think you’re just going to send me a note and whisk Pavus away just like that? What healing do you think he’ll get at Skyhold that he can’t get here from Anders?”

Arden glanced at Fenris then sighed. “I’m... not Anders,” he confessed quietly.

She turned and stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “You’d better start talking,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet.

Arden returned her stare steadily. “Anders broke his arm not long after you’d left. We couldn’t afford to delay. So I came in Anders’ stead.”

She took a step closer to him. “Then you’re not the Grand Enchanter,” she said quietly.

“Well... in a manner of speaking I _am_ ,” said Arden awkwardly.

“Explain?” Fenris said as he stood over Dorian protectively.

Arden sighed. “Anders resigned, but Meneris had no-one really qualified to take his place. Josie, he and I discussed it with Anders, and... well. To all intents and purposes, I’m Anders - or at least, his public face. Leaving Anders to take an advisory role purely in the background where he can live in peace and quiet whilst I deal with the public side of things.” He shrugged. “So you see, I’m not Anders and yet I am. I’m not the Grand Enchanter and yet I am.”

“That’s either the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard - or the most brilliant,” said Calpernia. “I can’t decide which. You realise if word of this reaches the magisterium, it’ll cause a diplomatic incident the likes of which Thedas hasn’t seen in centuries? Assuming it doesn’t just get us all killed. Likely both.”

“Then word cannot reach the Magisterium Calpernia, please we need to get back and see what has happened at Skyhold. Tell them I decided to leave, if anyone is to be blamed for us going. I cannot sit here while the others wait for us.” Fenris said.

“Fenris... I should stay here,” said Arden heavily. “You should take Dorian back, but I can’t go. Not yet. Dorian would be expected to keep to himself for a while after learning of his father’s death - a period of mourning would be respected. But if I disappear as well, that will arouse suspicions. I have to stay and continue the diplomatic mission.”

“Fuck...I don’t want you left alone.” Fenris said before he looked to Calpernia. 

“Fenris, I’m a Hawke,” Arden suddenly grinned. “I was the Champion of Kirkwall. If a hand-to-hand duel with the Arishok and Corypheus himself couldn’t kill me - not to mention the demon Nightmare - then what have I to fear from the Magisterium? Besides, I’m not alone; I’ll have Calpernia with me.” His face grew serious. “But it does sound as though you are needed in Skyhold more than here right now.”  
“If anything happens, leave, send word when you are safe do you hear me?” Fenris said shakily before he turned to Calpernia. “Keep him safe, please.”

“Send a raven to let me know what happens,” said Arden quietly. “It’ll take days to get here, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Very well, move over.” Fenris knelt down and wrapped his arm gently around Dorian’s side, sure to touch the cot before he lit his brands and disappeared in a white glow.

He reappeared in his room to find both Meneris and Zevran waiting. Zevran looked simply terrible, his golden eyes shadowed, the skin beneath looked almost bruised from lack of sleep, and there was a wild air of barely-restrained desperation about the Antivan that Fenris did not recall ever having seen before.

Fenris had barely stepped away to let Meneris sit with his husband before he felt Zevran’s arms around him. “Carissimi?”

“Anders is dying,” Zevran whispered hoarsely. “There is nothing I can do.” 

“What do you mean dying? He can’t be, do not say such things.” Fenris replied as he leaned down to kiss Zevran on the forehead. “What of his spirit, I can’t believe she’d let him die after bringing him back from near death before.”

“I do not know of such things,” Zevran managed brokenly. “I know only of death, of poisons - and he has been poisoned with something I do not recognise and have no antidote for. And I recognise the look of dying, _carissimi_. I have seen it too often. I have seen him slipping slowly away from me hour by hour and I can do _nothing_.” He clenched his eyes tight shut, but not before a few tears had managed to escape his eyes as he gritted his teeth against the sobs that were rising in his chest.

Fenris held Zevran closer and carded his fingers through the other elf’s hair to try and soothe him. “Come, let’s see him and give Meneris time alone with Dorian. Where is Hal?”

“I’m here,” exclaimed Hal breathlessly as he pushed open the door and stumbled to a halt, bending over to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, there was a woman in labour. Parcival is dealing with her now.”

“Please see to Dorian, he needs more healing than Arden could do and I want to see Anders.” Fenris said as he pulled free and wiped Zevran’s tears away. “Take Ellowynne to her room if she’s there, I don’t want to upset her if I try to reach out to his spirit.”

Zevran shook his head. “No need,” he said, his voice rough. “She is spending the night with Marian at the college - and your daughter.

“I see.” Fenris replied slowly before he turned to Hal. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly, I will be back after see to Anders.” The elf felt his husband’s arms around him again and he tried not to wince. “Carissimi, please ease your grip.”

Meneris hadn’t paid any attention to them, he was too busy fussing over his husband. Dorian had not stirred, even with the disorienting sensation of being wrenched through the Fade; he still lay unconscious and pale, his lips bloodless.

Hal moved to Dorian’s side and he carefully checked the magister’s pulse and frowned before laying a hand on the pale cool forehead and concentrating. “Maker, he’s lost a lot of blood,” he murmured. He rested his hand lightly upon Dorian’s abdomen and the Tevinter mage gave a low moan of pain.

“Sword right through his guts, Arden did what he could.” Fenris said before he left to check on Anders and hopefully see that it was not as dire as Zevran had made out.

Hal kept his eyes on Dorian, whose eyes were slowly fluttering open as the magister gritted his teeth with another moan.

“Amatus? Can you hear us?” Meneris asked as he held one of Dorian’s hands in his tight as he could without hurting the man.

“Must... be delirious,” Dorian groaned through the pain. “I’m hearing Meneris.”

“No, you heard me love. Look at me, please.” Meneris replied. Dorian opened his eyes slowly and stared up at the elf, and then managed a faint smile.

“I’m dreaming then,” he murmured. “You can’t possibly be here.”

“You’re back in Skyhold love, we kind of took over Fenris’ rooms.” Meneris grinned as he turned Dorian’s palm for a kiss. “We were so worried when he answered.”

“You tried to call me through the ring?” Dorian asked, and his eyes took on an interested look in spite of the obvious pain he was in as Hal began to work upon him. “They worked then? No problems?”

“Creators, only you would worry about that when you’re in so much pain you look like you haven’t had any sun in weeks. Yes, they worked now relax so Hal can work.” Meneris replied.

“ _Venhedis_ , Meneris, of _course_ I was worried about that, we hadn’t had a chance to test -” He broke off with a loud cry as he suddenly jerked, half-pulling away from Hal as he drew his legs up and clutched at his stomach. He panted, eyes wide, then slowly closed them as Hal merely pressed his hand against Dorian’s back over the exit wound and carried on healing.

“Dumat, that _hurt_ ,” Dorian finally managed to get out in a shaken whisper.

“More or less than getting a sword through the middle?” Meneris asked as he watched Hal continue to work.

Dorian laughed weakly. “Almost as bad, but thankfully without the consequences,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry,” said Hal in a distracted tone. “The wounds were starting to pull open, and scar tissue was torn as Fenris brought you here. I’m doing what I can but it would be best if you lie still on your side and don’t speak.”

Dorian made a very faint moaning sound then settled on his side and reached for Meneris’ hands with both of his. “Don’t let go, amatus,” he whispered before closing his eyes.

“I’ll be here love, just let Hal do his thing.” Meneris said as he leaned back and held on to his husband.

Hal worked in silence, his eyes closed as he pressed one hand against Dorian’s back, the other resting lightly upon the magister’s hip. Dorian was silent, occasionally catching his breath with a faint hiss, his hands tightening in Meneris’ grip - the only outward sign of the discomfort he was in. Slowly however, his body began to relax, the tension leaving him as Hal worked healing upon him steadily.

Finally Hal leaned back and rubbed his eyes wearily. “There. It’s healed. You’ll have a scar I’m afraid, Dorian, and you lost far too much blood so you’ll likely feel weak and tired for a few days at least - but you’ll make a full recovery.”

Dorian opened his eyes drowsily. “Is it over?” he murmured.

“Yes, let’s get you into bed and we’ll rest. Tomorrow we deal with getting you back to Tevinter and hopefully getting Anders back with us.” Meneris replied.

“Does that mean I have to get off _this_ bed?” Dorian blinked sleepily at his husband.

“He’ll be very tired,” Hal apologised. “He’ll likely be very easily fatigued for some time to come. He should rest as much as possible - preferably in bed, though he can get up in a couple of days if he doesn’t overexert himself.”

“Alright, it’s too far to get you to our rooms.” Let’s stay here for now, we’ll get you moved tomorrow.” Meneris said as he stretched out next to Dorian upon the narrow cot. Dorian made no answer; as Meneris peered at his husband, he realised the exhausted magister had already sunk into a deep sleep.

“I shall leave you in peace,” said Hal quietly as he withdrew; the healer closed the door silently behind him, and then Meneris was alone, Dorian sleeping peacefully in his arms.

***

Fenris frowned as he sat next to the unconscious mage. "What are the symptoms?"

“Invictus told me that he did not notice at first that he was bleeding from a head wound,” said Zevran quietly. He was sat at Anders’ bedside as Fenris bent over the unconscious man, studying Anders’ deathly pale face intently. “He slipped into unconsciousness within minutes, though his only injury was the cut upon his head which was not deep. It would not stop bleeding until Hal had applied healing, but he remained unconscious. The poison did not look, smell or taste like any I am familiar with, but the few I know that are odourless, scentless and tasteless should have killed him immediately.”

"Has he thrown up, or moved at all since he fell unconscious? There are some thing I’ve seen in Tevinter..."

Zevran shook his head. “Not at all. He has lain precisely as you see him - pale, near-bloodless it almost seems, his skin cold, hands like ice. He barely breathes; he looks like one who is already dead, and his heart beats but slowly. He does not seem to dream either; his eyes do not move at all.”

Fenris stared at Anders, then softly swore beneath his breath. “ _Asemiankathi_ ,” he breathed.

Zevran stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“A poison that can mimic death depending on how much is given, or kill someone very slowly. Someone would have likely declared him dead in Tevinter since they don’t have many healers. Come, I know the antidote but I’ll need you to help me concoct it.” Fenris made a face, and held up Anders’ arm. “We may need some of his blood for this. Can you take a small bit?” 

“His... blood?” echoed Zevran, staring at Fenris; after a moment, he drew one of the knives from his belt. “Fetch me a cup, _carissimi_ ,” he asked quietly as he took Anders’ wrist and carefully set the blade against it.

At that moment the door opened and Invictus entered, a scowl upon his face; he halted and stared, his eyes widening, as he took in the sight of Zevran seemingly about to slit Anders’ wrist.

“Zevran what are you doing?” Vic said before he looked up to see Fenris with a cup in hand. “What in the Void are you doing here?” 

“Vic, yell at me later I need to do this to save Anders.” Fenris replied as he sat and let Zevran carefully slit the blond’s wrist for him. “Wrap his wrist, I’ll be at his workbench.” 

Zevran set to work to dress the shallow cut, then swore. “Invictus, your aid? It will not stop bleeding.”

“Alright, maybe you can explain what is going on?” Vic said as he forced himself to concentrate on healing the cut. He struggled with it until it finally sealed and he could sit back. 

“Just like the head wound,” sighed Zevran. “And yet the cut was so small - barely deep enough to draw blood.” He shook his head. “What manner of poison is this? I have never seen the like!”

“I’ll explain once this is done, bring that cup over please?” Fenris muttered as he set the ingredients out and began to mix the antidote. He was quiet except for a request for what he needed except one thing. “Venhedis!” He swore.

Zevran glanced at him in alarm. “What is it? What is wrong?”

“I’m missing an ingredient...that comes from the Deep Roads. Mythal...why, why do this to me?” Fenris sounded like he was going to cry from frustration.

“We know where a Deep Roads entrance is Fenris, can’t you fly there and back faster as a dragon?” Vic asked quietly.

“The ingredient is a flower - one that grows only in the taint itself,” said Fenris dourly. “Were we in Tevinter, there are certain apothecaries I could approach. It is very rare and costly. It is what felandaris becomes when tainted; sometimes they are able to trade with dwarves for it.”

“Does Anders’ blood not contain enough of the taint to affect regular felandaris?” asked Zevran.

“I do not know - but I do not have even the normal form of felandaris here,” replied Fenris as he gestured hopelessly. “It is a poison, and Anders does not use such things, even in potions.” He shook his head. “In any case, it would require more of his blood - and I do not think it wise to bleed him further.”

“What about Dorian’s blood? Also, there has to be felandaris here, we gathered enough of it when we fought those giants in Emprise Du Leon.” Vic suggested. 

“Where was it kept upon our return?” asked Fenris. “And unwise as it would be to bleed Anders further, it would be unwiser still to take from Dorian. He has lost too much blood already. An assassin ran him through with his sword; he would have died if not for Arden.”

“Well, fuck,” said Invictus. “Then what _can_ we do?”

“Vigil’s Keep,” said Zevran quietly. “We need a Warden.” He glanced to Fenris. “Fly me to Vigil’s Keep, _carissimi_ , and I shall get you warden’s blood, one way or another. This I swear.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felandaris, taint, and confessions, oh my!

Fenris nodded wearily before he pulled Zevran to him and wept quietly for a while then pulled back. “Sorry, I ...had reached my limit and needed to get that out. Can I get something to eat first before we travel?” He asked quietly. 

“I’ll get you something, just rest for a bit love.” Vic left to get them something, leaving the two elves to plan. By the time he came back, Fenris had stretched out next to Anders in an attempt to keep the mage warm. 

Zevran had resumed pacing restlessly, occasionally glancing up to stare at Anders’ gaunt face. The man was slowly starving to death in addition to whatever the poison was doing to him; they’d been unable to coax much into him beyond sips of water; anything else had either trickled from his slack mouth or else begun choking him silently until they had been forced to turn him on his side to clear his throat. He was incapable of swallowing on his own, and Zevran could only feel a sense of almost crushing despair every time he looked at the man he had come to love as much as Fenris, and the thought of losing someone he had given his heart to once more was utterly unbearable. It felt like losing Solona all over again.

He felt the rising panic closing his throat once more, and suddenly the room seemed too close and confining, the air strangely too thin to breathe. He felt dizzy and light-headed, his heart racing.

“I...I need air,” he gasped and fled to the window, flinging it open and leaning out, hands braced against the window frame as he gasped in great lungfuls of air like one half-drowned.

Fenris sat up at Zevran’s words and frowned slightly as he padded over and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Zev?” 

Zevran shook his head, unable to speak for the moment as he gasped for breath.

“We’ll leave soon, I’m sorry carissimi I just need a little rest and something to eat. Teleporting that far still tires me. May I hold you?” Fenris said as he rubbed his thumb in a slow circle over the shorter elf’s shoulder.

Zevran leaned into Fenris and closed his eyes as he nodded, his chest still heaving. “I cannot lose him,” he managed to wheeze. “But I am so afraid, _carissimi_. This... it is Solona all over again. I let him into my heart, and it is so unfair that I must watch him be taken from me slowly like this and be unable to do anything.” He frowned slightly. “Nathaniel will give us what we need. I will have it from him by any means necessary.”

“I’m sure Nate will be willing to give us what we need when you tell him it’s for Anders. We can at least teleport back instead of having to fly and lose more time.” Fenris sighed and held Zevran to him. “I’d rather die than lose him, or have you go through so much pain again carissimi.” 

“I must have angered some god in a previous life perhaps, to be so unfortunate in this,” groaned Zevran. “I pray you are right - and that the blood will work upon the felandaris. This antidote - how fast will it work, with him so far gone towards death already?”

“As long as he is not dead it will work. Pray that we’re fast enough in fetching Nate or his blood carissimi. Lean on me my heart if you need it, I’ll be strong for us, as long as I can.” Fenris closed his eyes as he felt Zevran squeeze him tighter. He didn’t know how long until the strain of the last day would get to him, but he had to keep it together long enough to save their love, then he could collapse.

Zevran turned and curled in against Fenris and allowed himself to be held, drawing some comfort from Fenris’ strength. “Forgive me, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured. “I have been so worried for Anders; I have not slept since he was struck down by the assassin. We would have lost him already if not for your daughter.”

Fenris clenched his jaw at the mention of Vulpine. He was surprised she’d done anything to help Anders or Ellowynne for that matter, but he wasn’t going to fight about it. “So you said.” he finally replied with a wince for how terse it sounded. 

“Once Anders is out of danger, you should speak to her, _carissimi_ said Zevran gently. “She has barely slept since she killed the assassin. I do not think she has ever killed before, and it has... changed her. She may be more amenable to your approach if you do so with gentle kindness, like a frightened, wounded bird.”

“She hates me Zevran, and it's hard to speak to someone when they leave the room when you enter. She killed to protect someone not even her blood kin…” Fenris took a breath to get himsel together before he ranted at his husband. “No, stop. I’ll stop. This isn’t the time for me to talk about that, not when Anders is in danger. Forgive me Zevran, her ...disdain for me is still too raw and I can’t.” Fenris’ voice hitched as he let go of the smaller elf to get some fresh air for himself. 

Zevran leaned against the window frame and rested his head against the painted wood. “I am sorry,” he murmured, and closed his eyes.

“Not your fault love.” Fenris replied as the door opened and Vic came in with a servant behind him with a second tray. 

“Sorry, I needed help. Come and eat, then I’ll rest with Anders while you two travel.” Vic said before he saw the look on Fenris’ face. 

Zevran turned to glance wearily at the tray then Invictus, before turning to look at Fenris.

“Eat, you’ll need to hold on to me and I’ll need the strength for the flight.” Fenris said tiredly before he went for a plate and one of the mugs of ale.

Invictus dismissed the servant with thanks and fell in on his own food. 

Zevran straightened slowly and took up a plate then dropped into a chair and began to eat, forcing himself to clear the plate. He felt sick - sick at heart, and queasy and nauseous from lack of sleep. He forwent the beer and wine however; in his current state he feared it would send him to sleep, and he would need a clear head.

Fenris cleared his plate and snagged a piece of thick buttered bread to sop up his plate. He finished quickly and rose with a sigh. “Carissimi, go get a rope so you have something to hold on to in case you fall asleep. Dress warmly and I will go change as well. I will meet you outside in fifteen minutes?” 

Zevran nodded as he rose, setting his plate back on the tray before he departed for his own room to change.

Fenris watched him go, then hugged Invictus for a long time before he stepped back. “Take care of Anders and Imp, I’ll be as fast as I can.” 

Vic kissed Fenris and reluctantly let go. “Be safe, and when you come back we’ll spend some time together. You look as if you’re barely holding it together my heart.”

“That’s because I am. Just hope I don’t go to pieces once Anders is healed.” Fenris kissed him again before he left for his room to quietly change clothes and head off. He gave Meneris and Dorian a fond look before he slipped out to find Zevran for their journey.

The Antivan elf had dressed more warmly; stout leather pants, his customary high boots, a warm thick tunic over his black shirt, a black sleeveless jerkin belted over the top and a thick, fur-lined cloak over all. He was pacing restlessly as he waited for Fenris.

The warrior came out with a rucksack for Zevran to take once he’d changed. “Once you’re on, tie the rope or...use it like a bit. The last thing I need is for you to fall off.” Fenris belted the ruck sack on and moved a few paces back so he could change. 

Zevran picked up the coil of rope by his feet then stared at Fenris as the white-haired warrior paced back then stood still, frowning slightly as he shook out his arms, then threw his head back. Then abruptly all his lyrium tattoos blazed into light, glowing brighter and brighter until Zevran could hardly bear to look at him. Dimly he could make out the other elf's shape as it changed, elongated, wings sprouting from his back until finally the brilliant silvery-white light faded and the immense dragon stood before him, staring down at him with glowing green eyes.

Zevran swallowed hard, silently reminding himself that this was still Fenris. He hefted the rope, and the dragon crouched slightly so he could throw one end of the rope over the dragon’s back, just in front of the immense wings. He ducked under the dragon’s neck and threw the other end up over the dragon’s back to cross over the other end of the rope. Then he set a foot upon the dragon’s foreleg and vaulted up to sit astride the dragon. He took the two ends of the rope and wrapped them around his own waist before tying them off securely.

“I am ready, _carissimi_ ,” he called. Then he braced himself as he felt the dragon gathering itself, great muscles bunching and tensing before Fenris launched himself into the air. Zevran gripped the ropes firmly but his head snapped back as the dragon leaped into the air and beat his wings down in a powerful downstroke. 

Fenris took to the air silently and with more speed than usual as he headed towards Vigil’s Keep, grateful Zevran had shown him the map and he knew where to go. He didn’t stop until the Keep was in his sight and he circled for a landing close enough to walk in to see Nathaniel. They didn’t need the wardens shooting him down. He turned when he didn’t feel the other elf dismount. 

As he glanced back, he soon saw why; Zevran was slumped unconscious, held on only by the ropes about his waist binding him to the dragon’s back. At some point in the long flight, Zevran’s lack of sleep had caught up to him, and between that and the cold he had passed out.

Fenris shifted back to himself and picked up Zevran carefully. “Zev? Carissimi?” He called out as he tried not to panic. Zevran was worryingly silent and pale, but after a moment his eyelids fluttered and he groaned quietly.

“ _Car...carissimi_?” he finally managed, opening his eyes to stare up at Fenris in confusion.

“We’re here, just a short walk to the gates, I’ll carry you carissimi. Hopefully no one will have seen me flying and wonder where the dragon went.” Fenris kissed him, got him settled in his arms and headed towards the Keep, hopeful they would be let in quickly.

There were two wardens standing guard at the gate. “Halt!” called one. “Who approaches the Vigil?”

“A friend,” called back Fenris a little desperately. Zevran had lapsed back into silence in his arms; whether acting or actually unconscious, he couldn’t tell. “My friend is ill and needs help; we seek a friend - Nathaniel Howe.”

The human warden glanced down at the dwarf, who was a stout fellow with fiery ginger hair and braided beard. “Huh, whatcha want Howe for? Who’s asking?” he demanded, letting out a beery belch. “Who’s your friend there?” 

Fenris turned towards the dwarf, and the torchlight fell upon Zevran’s face, illuminating the blackwork tattoo that wound down his cheek to his jaw. The dwarf’s eyes widened.

“Well bugger me sideways and call me a nug’s uncle,” he said slowly. “Andraste’s tits, Zevran, what trouble have you got yourself into now?” He glanced up at Fenris. “Come on, Longshanks, bring him in. Zevran’s one of us.”

The dwarf turned and stomped towards the inner keep, and Fenris followed, Zevran cradled in his arms. They headed into the keep, making straight for the main hall.

There were a number of wardens in the great hall, some finishing the remains of a meal, but the dwarf made straight for a table at the far end. Another dwarf, a tall Dalish elf woman and a dark-haired man were talking quietly over the remains of their own meal.

“Hey, Howe!” bellowed the ginger dwarf. “We got company. Look who just showed up?”

The dark-haired man glanced over his shoulder, then swore as he got to his feet. “Zevran!” he exclaimed. 

The others were also rising, staring at the seemingly-unconscious Antivan as Nathaniel hurried over. “Maker, Zevran, what happened to you?” He glanced up at Fenris and suddenly took in at a glance how Fenris had changed. “And what happened to _you_ , Fenris?” he added in a quieter voice.

“It is a long tale, and not one to be told right now. Zevran needs rest, a warm bed; he is chilled and exhausted,” replied Fenris. “And I require sustenance and drink myself.”

“You shall have them both,” nodded Nathaniel.

The elven woman had come to join them. “What ails him?” she asked, tersely.

“Exhaustion mostly, I fear,” replied Fenris. “But also he is gravely chilled.”

“Velanna, they’ll need rooms and food,” said Nathaniel. She nodded and moved away.

“Nathaniel, I must speak with you,” said Fenris quietly. “It is urgent. It concerns Anders.”

Nathaniel regarded him with a startled look, then slowly nodded. “Let’s get Zevran settled, and then we may speak,” he replied.

“Of course,” Fenris agreed as he fell in step with the senior Warden, unhappy with the news he’d brought. 

Velanna had arranged rooms in the guest quarters where recruits were usually placed or the occasional visitor, Nathaniel explained. Fenris got the distinct impression Nathaniel had had a promotion recently, from the deference various wardens gave him and the salutes he got each time they passed a group of wardens.

“Here we are,” said Nathaniel as he gestured to a pair of rooms next to each other; Velanna gave him a nod as she headed back towards the great hall. “Let’s get Zevran settled in. Food will be brought shortly.”

Zevran opened his eyes briefly as Fenris laid him on the bed, closing them again as the warrior tugged off his boots.

Fenris got Zevran in bed then sat at the table with Nathaniel. “Thank you for letting us rest for a bit.” 

Nathaniel shrugged. “Zevran may not be a warden, but as far as we’re concerned he’s still one of us. Now, what is this all about - and how did Zevran get so chilled? Maker, I’d almost have thought he just stumbled off a glacier except we’re miles away from any snow.”

“I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, but...he flew on a dragon.” Fenris said quietly.

Nathaniel’s eyebrows rose. “Now, if anyone else had told me that - and about anyone else, too - then I wouldn’t have believed it, but the _is_ Zevran we’re talking about. He actually flew? On a dragon?”

“You’re looking at the dragon he flew in on.” Fenris said before he found the tabletop incredibly interesting.

“You’re kidding me,” said Nathaniel disbelievingly. “Wha - _how??_ Was this Anders’ doing? Maker, that would be just like him -”

“No, not his doing. He’s good but he can’t give me the power to change at will. It’s a long story and one I’ll happily tell you once he’s healed. We need your help Nathaniel, Anders is dying and we need one thing that we don’t have at Skyhold to make the antidote.” Fenris glanced at him, sure he made no sense as he tried to explain.

“Dying?” exclaimed Nathaniel, suddenly looking stricken. “Maker, no! How? Whatever you need, it’s yours - only please, how did this happen?”

“He was attacked, there were assassins found in Skyhold, the last one nicked him with a dagger and it had a poison I’d seen used in Minrathous. We need felandaris that has been exposed to the same taint you carry in your blood as a warden. Vic is getting the plants ready, and if you will come with us, we can finish making the antidote. Then I am going to go collapse and sleep for a couple of days.” Fenris glanced up when the door opened to a servant, he waited until Nathaniel had poured them wine before he pulled a plate over.

Nathaniel stared at him. “You’re saying you need my blood, is that it?” he said quietly. 

Zevran suddenly sat upright, startling them both as he threw aside the blanket and turned towards Nathaniel, setting one foot on the floor.

“We need your blood to corrupt the felandaris,” he said, his voice rough, eyes fixed upon Nathaniel. “And we will have it, one way or another.”

“Calm yourself carissimi, you damn near made me hit the ceiling. Nathaniel is willing to help us.” Fenris caught himself before his wings had unfurled. 

Zevran managed to stand, reaching for one of his blades. “Anders is dying,” he said, taking a step towards Nathaniel who had risen to his feet. “You will give your blood for him.” 

Nathaniel raised his hands slowly. “Zevran. I have already said I will help. If my blood can help save Anders then I will give it willingly.”

Zevran halted, the blade in his hand still pointed at Nathaniel. “Good. I should have to kill you otherwise.” He grinned.

“Zevran... put the knife down,” said Nathaniel softly. “You’re not yourself.”

“Zevran, stop it or I will make you stop. Nathaniel is willing to help. Eat something and get yourself together. Once we’ve had something I’ll take us back.” Fenris warned his husband.

Zevran stopped and stood still for a moment, the knife still pointing at Nathaniel until he slowly lowered it then blinked, swaying slightly. “I...I cannot let him die, I - not after Solona....”

“Easy there,” said Nathaniel as he moved forward. “You’re not going to lose him, my friend.”

“Sit and eat, then we can go back to Skyhold.” Fenris said as he pushed a plate towards Zevran then went back to his own meal.

“I don’t think he -” began Nathaniel then swore as he darted forward to catch Zevran as the Antivan elf’s eyes closed and he slowly crumpled towards the ground. The dark-haired archer managed to gather the unconscious elf up in his arms and deposited him back in bed, tucking him in.

“Maker,” he sighed as he took his seat once more and reached for a glass of wine. “So. Do I want to know how long since last he slept? I’ve seen Zevran push himself too far before, and this has all the signs.”

“Days from what I can tell. I can take us all back easier than I got both of us here. I just need something to eat before I try to teleport us to Skyhold.” Fenris replied with a glance to Zevran and Nathaniel.

The warden nodded. “Very well. I’ll go speak to Velanna and Oghren; she’ll take over in my absence,” he replied, then gave a grin. “You may have noticed things have changed somewhat since I got back here from Skyhold. I’m Warden Commander here now, so I can’t just flit off without warning - more’s the pity. I shan’t mention the whole blood aspect though; Velanna’s a bit... well, she can be a bit funny over things like that. And Sigrun wouldn’t take it at all well.”

“I am not excited about it, but I’ll...cross many lines to save Anders’ life. Once you’ve informed them, I will be ready to return.” Fenris said quietly.

“It’s as urgent as that, then?” said Nathaniel equally quietly. “Very well. Finish your meal; I will be back directly.” He got to his feet and left the room.

Fenris finished his meal and got up to pace. He was worried for how unraveled Zevran seemed to be and for his own state of mind. He was so deep in thought, he didn’t hear Nathaniel return. 

“Fenris,” Nathaniel repeated patiently for the third time before finally cautiously laying a hand on the elven warrior’s shoulder, all too keenly remembering his painful experience the last time he’d startled the elf.

Fenris jumped but didn’t spin to take the other man’s heart. “Be glad I am exhausted or you would be dead.” he said tiredly. 

“Believe me, I’m none too keen on feeling your hand around my heart a second time,” said Nathaniel as he stepped back hastily. “But it is time to go, if you are ready.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” the elven warrior got Zevran’s boots back on before he picked up the other elf. “Hold on to me tightly. We’ll be in Anders’ rooms when we arrive at Skyhold.”

Nathaniel grasped Fenris’ arm firmly, the other arm coming around to help cradle Zevran as Nathaniel stared into Fenris’ eyes and nodded. 

Fenris’ brands flashed brilliant white fire, blinding the archer. There was a sudden jerk, then a yank sideways, and then suddenly there was a rug under their feet and Nathaniel stumbled as he let go of Fenris’ arm and looked around, startled, to find Hal staring at him with wide eyes only a few seconds before he felt the overwhelming urge to vomit. He managed to stumble the few steps over to the (thankfully open) window before he lost the contents of his stomach noisily and messily over the rose bushes below.

“Maker,” he groaned. “I’d forgotten how unpleasant that was.”

“Believe me, I know. Get some mint and water while I get Zevran laid out and then we get to take your blood.” Fenris set Zev next to Anders and straightened with a low groan. 

“I’ll be fine in a minute,” replied Nathaniel as he made his way over to a chair then sat down. He tugged off the quilted jacket of his warden armour then started to strip off the tabard. “How much do you think you’ll need?”

Hal came forward to take the warden’s clothing, folding it neatly as he set it aside.

“Enough for the felandaris to become tainted, hopefully not much. I have everything I need and it looks like someone left the herb for me. Hal, can you help with collecting his blood, please?” Fenris asked.

Hal nodded. “I can keep a light touch upon the wound and prevent it from closing until we have enough,” he agreed. He picked up a bowl and laid a handful of felandaris in it, then brought it over to the chair where Nathaniel sat. The archer rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, and presented his wrist to the young mage. Hal set the bowl down then took Nathaniel’s arm, feeling carefully for the vein, then took a sharp knife and made an incision as the warden tensed slightly. Warm, wet blood began to run down the inside of his wrist to drip steadily into the bowl; Hal pressed a thumb lightly just above the cut. 

Nathaniel could feel a slight tingle in his skin above the cut, and then the stinging pain receded as the dripping of the blood increased to a steady trickle that pattered wetly into the bowl.

Fenris and Invictus found they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the sight of Nathaniel’s blood slowly filling the bowl. The room was silent save for the steady dripping of blood, and Nathaniel’s breathing which slowly became more ragged as more of his blood flowed into the bowl, his face growing paler. 

Fenris glanced down at the herb, then back to Nathaniel as the man looked ready to pass out. He finally called for Hal to heal him when the felandaris was covered. 

Hal’s hand glowed blue for a moment and the flow of blood stopped. Nathaniel’s head had drooped, his eyes half-closed.

“Nathaniel?” said Hal quietly. “It’s done.”

Nathaniel lifted his head and blinked. “Is it over? Is it - is it enough?”

Hal stared down at the bowl, at the herb that seemed to be somehow absorbing the blood slowly, the leaves and flowers turning black and yet somehow seeming more _alive_ in some strange fashion that was unnerving to see. He nodded hastily as he handed the bowl of the corrupted felandaris to Fenris.

“Yes, yes - it’s enough!” the young mage agreed.

“Oh. That’s good,” said Nathaniel faintly. “Maker, I could use a drink.”

“Vic take care of him, Nate do not try to get up unless you want to land on your face. Excuse me gentlemen while I work.” Fenris went to the bench quickly, his mind set on recalling how to make the antidote and nothing else.

Nathaniel was struggling to get out of the chair. “Anders... how is he?” he said, then frowned as Hal pushed him back into the chair with little effort.

“Let Fenris work, he’s still making the antidote.” Vic said as he slipped a plate and cup before the warden. Nathaniel stared at the food dazedly then nodded. He began to eat as Hal rose to his feet and went to fetch water and a cloth to clean Nathaniel’s arm with. The warden barely noticed, shovelling food into himself with his other hand as Hal washed the drying blood from his arm then patted it dry before satisfying himself that the cut was fully healed.

“You should take it easy over the next twenty-four hours,” Hal advised him. “I took over a pint from you - closer to a pint and a half; you may feel light-headed on standing up. You should eat and drink and then get plenty of rest.”

Nathaniel merely grunted and continued eating.

Fenris worked as if he were alone in the room, concentrating on the concoction until it was nearly ready. He just needed to carefully add some of the tainted herb to the mix.

Nathaniel glanced up and frowned suddenly as he saw Fenris reach for the felandaris. “Fenris, I really wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” he said as he laid down his fork. “Unless you want to join the wardens.”

The elf paused and glanced back at him. “How do you mean?” He frowned.

“I mean, that felandaris is tainted now. If you touch it with your bare hands and have some small nick or cut you’d forgotten about, then that’s a surefire way to contract the Blight - so unless you have a hankering to come join the wardens, I’d advise you step away and let me handle that.” He got to his feet cautiously, and made his way over to the workbench. “Tell me what to do and let me do it for you.”

“And if you need magic, amicus,” said a voice unexpectedly from the doorway, “Then I am at your service.”

Fenris turned in surprise to see a very pale Dorian standing in the doorway, one hand clutching at the door frame as Meneris held him up on the other side with a frown on his face. Dorian shrugged a little apologetically.

“I felt darkspawn and guessed there couldn’t be any in Skyhold,” he explained.

“So he insisted on dragging us both out of bed to investigate,” added Meneris. “And he’s damned well going to sit down before he falls down.”

Dorian gave a rueful shrug and allowed himself to be pushed into the nearest chair.

Nathaniel merely arched an eyebrow then turned back to Fenris. “So. What am I to do?” he asked.

With Nathaniel acting as Fenris’ hands and Dorian providing the required magic at the key stage of the process, the antidote was soon prepared.

“That should be safe for you to handle now, amicus,” said Dorian as Meneris guided him back to a chair then pushed a glass of wine into his hand. Hal was doing the same to Nathaniel, who seemed to still be bemused that the young man could push him around so easily.

The warrior gave them both a grateful look as he bottled it and made his way to Anders side. “Vic, prop him up so I can give him a dose and try to get him to swallow. If that fails, then Hal should make a shallow cut so he can take this the same way he was poisoned.” 

Invictus carefully slipped a hand beneath Anders’ shoulders and lifted him up; the unconscious mage’s head dropped back, and Invictus gently nudged his mouth open so Fenris could trickle a little of the potion in. Then Fenris laid a hand against Anders’ throat and gently yet firmly rubbed it in steady, rhythmic motions whilst the others held their breaths and waited to see if Anders would choke upon the potion or swallow it.

After a heartstopping few minutes in which Anders’ breath hitched then stopped, he suddenly convulsively swallowed, and Fenris allowed himself a small sigh of relief before trickling a little more of the potion in. Again, he massaged Anders’ throat until the mage swallowed; upon the third mouthful, Anders swallowed of his own accord.

Fenris sat back and watched.

“How long will it take to work?” asked Nathaniel softly. Fenris shrugged.

“It could take some time,” he said quietly. “He was... uncomfortably close to death and the poison has been working in him steadily as he starved. But... he was able to swallow of his own accord at the last, so I am hopeful we shall see some sign of recovery soon.”

Invictus carefully lay Anders back down against the pillows and they waited.

Dorian had slipped back into exhausted sleep by the time Anders began to show some signs of recovery; a little colour had come back into his cheeks, his breathing had deepened, and when Hal checked Anders’ pulse he declared that the unconscious man’s heart was beating more strongly and his hands felt less like ice.

They sat in silent vigil, Nathaniel dropping off into sleep as he sat in his chair, until perhaps two hours later Anders’ eyelids finally fluttered.

Fenris did a slight double take as he noted the sliver of color showing as Anders seemed to come around. “Love?” 

Anders’ fingers twitched as his eyelids fluttered again, and a faint sigh escaped his pale lips. Hal had been lightly dozing in a chair but suddenly was wide awake as he leaned forward, startled, as he stared at Anders.

“Anders?” Fenris asked again as he slipped over to his husband’s side. “Please tell me I am not seeing things.”

A faint frown creased Anders’ brow as he tried to speak, only a faint groan coming from his parched throat as his eyes drifted half-open. He blinked slowly, confused and disoriented. He made another attempt to speak and finally managed to rasp, “Fenris?” His voice was a rough whisper.

“Thank Mythal...it’s me, just wait a moment, I’ll get you something to drink.” Fenris got water and gently held Anders up so he could drink. “Take it easy, small sips.”

Invictus had entered just as Anders had tried to take the glass for himself but failed. “He’s back with us?” 

Anders gave up trying to hold the glass and allowed Fenris to hold it for him as he took steady sips of water. His eyes had slid closed as he drank, but they opened again at the sound of Invictus’ voice. When Fenris lowered the glass, he licked his lips then managed to ask, “How... how long?” His voice was faint and weak.

“Almost a week, I think.” Vic answered as he made his way over to the bed and realized it was a bit too crowded for him to join Anders. “I’ll have some broth and bread sent up, and wake Ellowynne.”

“A week?” said Anders, with a look of confusion in his eyes. “No wonder I feel so weak.” He stared up at Fenris. “You’re not meant to be here,” he murmured.

“Yes, I am love.” Fenris gave him a tired smile before he took one of Anders hands in his and kissed his palm. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears he felt sliding down his face as he finally accepted that they wouldn’t lose their love. 

“Love?” murmured Anders softly. “What... what’s wrong? What happened to me? I feel... I feel so strange.”

“You were poisoned by the assassin that attacked after Dorian and I had left for Tevinter. Zevran hadn’t seen it but I had in Minrathous. We gave you the antidote last night and you finally came around. We were so afraid you were going to die.” Fenris’ voice was shaky as he spoke and he kept a hold of Anders’ hand as if he would flutter away the moment he let go.

“I can’t remember,” said Anders, shaking his head a little. “I remember you and Dorian leaving but... it gets hazy after that. Who... who sent the assassin? Do we know?”

“I’m not sure, everything has been kind of a blur the last few days love.” Vic said as he returned with broth and a very excited Ellowynne behind him. “Someone has been eager to see you.”

“Daddy!” shrieked Ellowynne excitedly as she flung her arms around Anders’ neck and hugged him. Anders was too weak to return her hug; he could barely even lift his good hand. But the smile upon his face showed his happiness at seeing his daughter.

Fenris let go and moved back, glad Anders was better and happy that Ellowynne could see him in recovery and not on a pyre before his time. He took a seat at the table and tried to get himself under control so he could go back to his room and sleep.

Anders was finally able to get Ellowynne to calm a little; he glanced around slowly and seemed stunned to see so many people in his room at once. Zevran was unconscious beside him on the bed; Nathaniel and Dorian were both passed out in chairs, Hal looked as though he very much ought to be in his own bed, and both Meneris and Invictus were looking exhausted. Fenris looked as though he were staving off imminent collapse through sheer effort of will.

“Imp, why don’t you let your daddy get some air while I help Uncle Fenris get back to his room and then we can help him have some broth ok?” Vic asked as he tried to rouse the elf.

Ellowynne sat back and nodded. “Can I help? Or Pin? She’s on her way too,” she answered.

“Perhaps Pin could go fetch a couple of people from the infirmary with a stretcher to help the Inquisitor take Dorian to their quarters,” suggested Hal tiredly before glancing at Meneris. “At least, I assume you’d prefer to keep him with you?”

“Yes, that would be best. I’m sure Fenris would like his room back so he can finally rest.” Meneris said as he tried to rouse Dorian. The magister mumbled something, his eyes still closed, one hand wrapping around his stomach as he curled up a little in the chair with a faint sleepy grimace.

“I hope he didn’t undo my work,” sighed Hal as he got to his feet wearily and crossed over to join Meneris at Dorian’s side. He gently sent a wash of healing magic over the magister’s form; Dorian slowly relaxed once more and began to snore very faintly.

“He’ll definitely need a stretcher,” observed Hal as Vulpine appeared in the doorway and took in the sight of so many people in Anders’ room at once - most of whom were unconscious. She glanced at Anders, and a relieved smile crossed her face before she dropped her gaze self-consciously to the ground.

Fenris looked up to see Vulpine had stopped in the doorway, and he dropped his down gaze as he and Invictus approached. “Thank you for saving Anders and Ellowynne, you did well." He clutched Vic tighter around his waist as he felt the room start to spin.

She darted him a startled glance then frowned slightly as she glanced at Invictus, lifting one eyebrow mutely in query.

"Excuse us Vulpine, Fenris is about to collapse if I don't get him to his room soon. He's barely slept or ate in a couple of days." Vic replied to her unspoken question.

Her frown deepened a little as she stared at Fenris, but she stepped to one side, holding the door open for Invictus.

Fenris looked at her and gave a tired, hopeful smile. "If you're ...willing I would speak to you after I get some rest."

She looked startled, but slowly nodded. “If you like,” she agreed cautiously, darting a glance at Invictus warily.

“Only if you wish it, I meant what I said about not forcing you or Callus to know me. Excuse me, I’m...not well.” Fenris muttered before he swayed again and nearly took Invictus with him. 

Before Invictus could regain his balance enough to haul Fenris upright, Vulpine had taken one step and caught Fenris, hauling him back upright with surprising strength, her eyes on the floor even as she slung Fenris’ arm across her slender shoulders. “Where’s your room?” she asked, not lifting her gaze from the floor.

Fenris answered in a daze, sure he was so exhausted he was hallucinating. He kept glancing at Vulpine as they went to his room and while he was glad for the help, he didn’t think she’d helped of her own will. “Tired, I’m seeing things” he muttered as he curled up on his side and was out before Vic had pulled his boots off.

The former Champion turned to look at the girl who seemed fascinated by the room, the rug, anything but looking at the elf sprawled on the bed. “He’s not the only one surprised by your help just now. Thank you, if he’d fallen out of my grip we’d both have gone down.” 

She stared at the floor, at a spot near Invictus’ feet; her eyes flickered briefly up to his face from behind her red hair then dropped back to the floor - almost as though she expected to be in trouble for looking him in the eye. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Tell him he wasn’t seeing things!” she suddenly blurted out before turning swiftly towards the door.

“Wait, you don’t have to run away Vulpine. Let’s go back together so you can see Anders for yourself and Ellowynne. I’m sure she’ll be glad for company that isn’t a bunch of old men.” Vic said quietly as he snuffed candles with a wave of his hand and pulled the door close. 

She hesitated just outside the doorway then nodded once as she waited for him, then dropped a little behind to follow.

“You can walk next to me, I’m not going to have you walk behind me like that. You’re free and you shouldn’t ever walk behind another mage or human as if you’re not.” Vic said softly as he waited for her to catch up. “Fenris did that a lot when we first began seeing each other, took him a long time to break that habit.” 

Her cheeks flamed red as she quietly swore to herself - _at_ herself, Invictus realised. She took a couple of steps to draw alongside him.

“It’s barely been a few weeks,” she muttered. “Sometimes I just... forget. It’s easier around Mas- around Anders.”

“I realized that after I said it. I’m glad you are getting used to being here with us, around others. If you ever wish to speak plainly, or want to train in combat magic, my door is open to you.” Vic replied as they walked slowly back to Anders rooms.

She bit her lip and came to a sudden halt, glancing up at him, worried. Invictus paused and glanced back, curious as to her sudden reaction.

“I... I killed the assassin. With a crushing prison. It... it makes me feel....” She lifted her eyes briefly to meet his gaze and he was surprised to see the anguish in their piercing blue depths before she dropped her gaze to the floor again. “How do you stand it? The dreams? The - the smell of blood? There was beef served at dinner yesterday and it was still pink inside and I - I couldn’t eat it. How do you _stand_ it?”

Vic knelt down so he wouldn’t tower over the young elf. “It’s hard to deal with, especially the first time. I killed a man when I was just a bit older than you for trying to...get my sister to go with him and he wouldn’t accept her refusal. It was a long time before I could go past where I’d taken care of the body, or even look her in the eye when she asked me about it. The dreams, well they will haunt you if you feel something after a kill. If you ever get comfortable with Fenris, he can speak to that more than I can if he wants to.” he watched her, unsure what was wrong aside from her guilt.

“Have you ever killed someone with a crushing prison?” she asked, her voice scarcely higher than a whisper. “All the blood - is that - is it normal?” She bit her lip again. “He’s going to be embarrassed about me, isn’t he?” she suddenly blurted out. “He must have killed _thousands_ of people but I can’t even kill one measly assassin without - without -” She suddenly burst into tears. “I don’t know why I’m even telling _you_ this, I’ve seen how you look at me - though at least you _do_ look at me; he can’t even do that - he never kept his word, and I - oh, _venhedis!_ ”

Vic offered her a kerchief and rose so they could walk. “Come with me, it sounds like you need more than just a few moments. I’m going to explain something to you about him missing dinner, and I hope you listen to me.” 

She took the handkerchief and walked beside him, her eyes on the floor, face hidden by her hair as she struggled to get her breathing back under control though the occasional ragged breath or sniff still escaped from time to time.

Vic opened his room and let the door mostly shut behind them, and motioned for her to sit. He poured her a half-glass of wine and a half for himself. Once they were settled he gave her a smile and waited for her to take a sip of wine before he began. 

She darted frequent glances at the door, reassuring herself it wasn’t fully closed and she could escape that way if she needed to. She’d been expecting them to return to Anders’ rooms, so this diversion was throwing her - but then this whole month had been one thing after another that had thrown her. It was as though she’d stumbled somewhere back in Tevinter and she were still trying to catch herself, only each time she thought there was a step under her foot it came down on thin air again.

She watched Invictus cautiously from behind her hair whilst he took a sip of his wine before doing likewise.

“I’m not going to make a production out of it, I see that Fenris not making it to dinner or speaking as he promised bothers you. However, he slept through it because he was so worked up over meeting you and Callus he didn’t really sleep. I know you don’t trust him, or like him much but ...there’s no easy way to say this.” Vic took a sip to fortify himself before he went on. 

“He, he knew he’d put his foot in it with you when he tried to defend Anders and call you our step-daughter. Overhearing what you said to Callus hurt him, and he...when he’s hurt he pulls away. He figured you hate him, and I can see why. You leave the room if you can when he’s around, I’ve heard things you’ve said when you do stay in the room, that adds up Vulpine. You’re both, you...remind me of Fenris when he first joined our group. I’m hoping that knowing how much he does care, how much he wanted you to be happy here will soften things just a bit. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s that it hurts too much when he feels like you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him. He’d just accepted that you didn’t want anything to do with him, he was speaking true when he said he wouldn’t force either of you but that doesn’t make it hurt less. Can you see what I’m saying?” Vic took another sip as he waited and hoped some of that sunk in.

Vulpine had lowered her glass to cradle it between her hands, her eyes on the wine as she listened. A part of her - a large part, truth be told - wanted to jump up and run away. Another part held her motionless, frozen and - a little afraid perhaps, but in an undefined way. It wasn’t “angry Master about to punish” afraid, exactly; perhaps more “is this a trap?” afraid, though even that didn’t feel quite right.

She hunted for the right words. “Why... why did he send other people for us, when Anders - when he rescued his daughter himself?” Her tone was quiet, cautious; her eyes flicked up to his face very briefly to check Invictus’ reaction before returning to her wine.

“If he’d gone to Tevinter alone to get you he’d probably have been killed, it took a lot of work to get you both freed Vulpine.” Vic refilled their glasses and sat back with a sad look at the girl before he went on. “You can’t compare what Anders did for Ellowynne to brokering a deal to free you both, and when your deceased master, may they rot in the Void refused, to have them killed. Anders still has friends in the Circle and with his position here, they would not have denied his request. There are still some who would try and claim your father, pardon your sire for the bounty placed by Danarius’ estate if he’d gone in alone. Don’t punish him for what he could not have done.” 

“Anders didn’t do it alone,” she murmured. “And Fenris went back to Tevinter quick enough when it suited him. He has the friendship of a powerful magister. He _could_ have, I _know_ it. He killed Danarius. Why could he not have killed Xerxeus as well?”

“Anders had one person with him, Zevran. Who is not an ordinary man as you’ve seen by now. Fenris did not kill Danarius alone, he couldn’t. He had me, Anders, Viscount Tethras and a couple others at his side and it was a nasty fight Vulpine. That powerful magister became one because his father was assassinated not long before they’d arrived.” Vic’s tone was bordering on cold but he checked himself before he snapped at the girl. 

“The very thought of going back to Tevinter terrifies him, enough that ...he had a couple very bad nights in my arms over it. Don’t assume he just didn’t want to Vulpine, he was a slave too well before you were born and after. It’s not as simple as you are making it. If you speak to him, and he tells you how the idea of walking into the Senate made him feel, realize how unfair you’re being. I love Fenris with all my heart and then some, so maybe I’m being unfair with you but he loves both of you, even when you’ve rebuked him at every turn. Either hear him out or tell him you’ll have nothing to do with him as family; but do not string him along and let him think he has a chance at knowing you as he hopes.” Vic sat back and waited to see if she ran out or threw the wine at him, knowing who her father was, either was likely.

A sudden breeze stirred his hair, and he caught sight briefly of movement out of the corner of his eye. Something suddenly darted across the limits of his field of vision, and then something suddenly hit the back of his head a glancing blow - like a light slap, as from the tail-end of a hand-towel perhaps. Vulpine had gone very still and she was staring fixedly into her wine; if she were aware of anything out of the ordinary, she gave no sign.

“Vulpine...call off your spirits, please. I am not trying to upset you. I just wanted you to hear me out. If you’re angry and no longer wish to speak to me, leave. You aren’t required to stay here if you want to go.” Vic said as he rubbed the back of his head and glanced around. 

Vulpine blinked and glanced up as though only just becoming aware of what was going on around her. She stared at something unseen as it zipped around the room, and frowned.

“No. Stop that,” she said quietly; it was clear she wasn’t talking to Invictus. “No. I didn’t call you. I didn’t ask for this.” Her eyes darted to a space just beyond the former Champion’s right shoulder. “If you do that I will get angry with you. I didn’t call you either.”

Vic raised an eyebrow at her then shuddered as he felt a cold breeze pass by. Once the room had settled he stared at Vulpine curiously. “You’re very strong in spirit magic, Anders is probably happy to have you as a student. If you wish to speak with me still, we can go on or you can go on to Anders rooms.” 

Vulpine was still staring at the empty space. “He keeps coming but I never called him,” she murmured, half to herself. “He isn’t like the others. I think he followed me.” She seemed to shake herself, and then blinked at Invictus; she’d gone rather pale. “I think I’d like to go see Anders, please. He... he doesn’t come when I’m with Anders.”

Invictus frowned but didn’t say anything else, the girl was already shaken. “Bring your wine, it sounds like you’ll need it.” Vic let her lead the way back as he pondered what she’d said about ‘him’ following her. Once Anders was recovered he was going to ask his husband about whatever seemed to be latched on to the girl. 

Vulpine headed straight to Anders’ rooms, opening the door without knocking. A brief glance around the room told Invictus that Dorian and Meneris had already departed for the Inquisitor’s rooms, and both Hal and Nathaniel had gone. Ellowynne was curled up against her father’s side, Anders deeply asleep once more though there was more colour in his cheeks now, and his breathing was deep and even. Zevran was still stretched out beside him, the Antivan deep in an exhausted sleep, dark shadows under his eyes.

Vulpine made her way over to the bed and stared down at Anders as he slept. After a moment, she glanced around at Invictus, and for once her eyes met his unhesitatingly, with a hopeful look.

“It’s... it’s true? He’s going to be alright?” she whispered.

“Yes, Fenris knew the antidote and he’ll recover.” Vic went over to brush a kiss to the blond’s forehead before he took a seat opposite the bed. “You’re welcome to stay and practice your letters if you wish. I think they will be asleep for a while.” 

“There’s... there’s a book I was reading,” she said slowly as she made her way over to a book case and pulled out a small book. It was worn, the cover faded, but Invictus could just faintly make out a picture of what looked like a griffon on the cover. “May I stay and - and read? For a little while?”

“Of course, relax and have some wine. I’ll be here trying to nap.” Vic said with a yawn.

Vulpine took a chair and bent her head over the small book, running one finger under the words as she sounded them out silently in her head, her lips sometimes moving voicelessly as she paused over a particularly awkward word, working out the syllables before carrying on, occasionally sipping from the glass in her hand.

Invictus drifted off; it was the sound of Anders softly snoring that pulled him reluctantly back into wakefulness. As he glanced around blearily, he realised at some point Vulpine had fallen asleep in her chair. The empty wineglass stood near the foot of the chair, and she’d curled up with the book cradled against her chest. If her hair had not been red, she would almost have been the spitting image of her sire.

He couldn’t help a little wistful smile at that thought as he settled back in his chair, his glance returning to Anders once more. His smile deepened as he closed his eyes and returned to dreaming.

Peace settled over the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's gonna be a bit of a pause in posting as cypher will be away for a conference 3/14-3/22.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing is believing, and sometimes you see things you don't want to accept.

Fenris woke up with a start as he realized he was in his room, not the opulent suite in Tevinter. “Venhedis, how ...oh.” He sat up and looked out for a hint of the time but couldn’t tell. Instead he opted to go to Anders rooms to be sure the mage was actually alright. He opened the door and stopped when he caught sight of Vulpine, curled up in the chair, book open. He was quiet as he took in how she looked, sure she’d wake up and bolt out of the room again.

The warrior recalled vaguely that she’d helped Invictus or was that a dream? He wasn’t entirely sure about the previous night, as he’d been so tired he’d nearly fallen on his face. As he watched, he peered closer at the book and realized it was the same book Anders had used to teach him to read. The fairytales were simple but not so childish they’d made him feel a fool as he learned.

Fenris was happy that she’d begun to learn her letters but felt a slight pang over the fact that she had taken to Anders well enough that he was teaching her letters. He blinked a few times when he felt tears threaten, and didn’t try to stop them. He leaned against the door hoarding this quiet moment as long as he could have it.

Perhaps the door creaked, or maybe Vulpine somehow sensed she was being watched - that uncanny almost sixth sense most slaves learned at some point; whatever the reason, she began to stir slightly, her eyes drifting half-open. She seemed relaxed and peaceful in this moment of drowsiness between dreams and full awakening as she slowly stretched, cat-like, before her sleepy gaze roamed over the room - going first to Anders where he slumbered peacefully, more colour in his face and the gaunt lines softened into peacefulness, then to Ellowynne with a fond smile, before drifting over to Fenris. She blinked, and seemed more awake as she straightened in her chair, the smile faltering slightly and a slight pensiveness in her gaze.

Fenris gave her a tentative smile as he moved forward slightly and sat across from her. “Anders taught me to read with that book too.” 

Her eyes dropped automatically to the book then up to Fenris once more, startled. “Um. He said I need to be able to read in order for him to teach me effectively.” She blushed slightly; her eyes were still a little bleary from sleep. “Xerxeus saw no point in having me taught. He said it wasn’t necessary for what he - what he was using me for.” She dropped her gaze.

“Knowing how to read is important, and it is a path to freeing yourself, so it’s no surprise he didn’t allow you to learn. I am glad Anders is teaching you as well.” Fenris leaned back and tried to reassure her he wasn’t going to do anything. “Are you doing alright? Your first time killing can be rough.”

She stared back at him, a pinched look about her eyes as her mouth tightened a little. “Did he tell -” She broke off as she glanced around and saw Invictus asleep in his own chair. “No. He couldn’t have,” she realised, before glancing back at her sire. “It - wasn’t what I thought it would be like,” she admitted. “I often dreamed of killing Xerxeus - he couldn’t control my dreams, after all. But I could never have guessed what it would really feel like to do it. I - I wasn’t expecting that much blood. Or the smell.”

“It stays with you, I’d gag after every match in the arena where I had to kill. Sometimes I’d be punished if I showed weakness after a kill when I was being trained. I was suppose to be fearless, not show a hint of remorse. I learned to hide it, keep my regrets inside, the punishment was worse than what I felt. That broke me in a lot of ways, holding my feelings in…” he tapered off and stared at the floor. “Apologies, I did not mean to speak of myself when you need to talk.” 

“I... wasn’t trained to kill,” said Vulpine. “I don’t think that spell is really meant to be used like that either, I just...well... _pushed_. It was... almost _too_ easy,” she said uncomfortably, dropping her own gaze to the floor. “Master - Xerxeus - he, he didn’t need me for that. I was... useful. In other ways.” She bit her lip unconsciously.

Fenris’ expression changed and he reached out to her without thinking. “I know that pain well, I was useful in that way despite what little status my position of bodyguard afforded me.” He sniffed and fell back into Tevene. “ _If I’d known of you both sooner, I would have done all I could to get you out of there. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._ ”

“ _It wasn’t just that,_ ” she replied, her own eyes beginning to fill with tears. “ _I... spirits listen to me. They come when I call them, though they come a lot even when I don’t - and he used me - demons, he wanted me to call up demons for him, he- he made me -_ ” She broke off, her eyes dark with remembered horror as she pressed her hands to her mouth, her body trembling.

Fenris pulled her to a hug, sure to give enough space for her to pull back if she wanted. “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re here and safe with us. I’m so sorry, it’s ok to cry. I do, a lot, it’s ok._ ” he felt more of his own tears fall as he held Vulpine as she sobbed.

She shook her head, even as she clung to him. “ _I’m not safe, I’ll never be safe - they followed me, they’re here. They keep away when I’m near Mas - near Anders, but they’re never far away._ ” She tried to choke back her sobs, fighting them down, trying to shut them away as she usually did. Damn him, he’d come to her when she was barely awake and vulnerable and now she couldn’t seem to shut off the flood of tears and emotions. And being held like this was comforting, and she didn’t _want_ it to be - but she didn’t want to pull away either. She swore to herself - and at herself, angry for her weakness.

“ _We’ll figure out what’s following you when Anders is better, ok? It’s ok, it will be ok. You can cry, I know this is scary and hard and confusing but if you’ll let me be here for you, I’m here till the end Vulpine. I’m sorry you’re hurting, Mythal I wish I could take this from you, that you never knew the life you have. It’s ok to cry, to feel, it’s alright to let people who care for you help when it’s bad. Please don’t pull away, please let me help._ ” Fenris said quietly.

She scrubbed at her eyes with her hand, then her nose with the back of a hand, sniffing. “ _Could never afford to cry,_ ” she muttered.

“ _I know, it took years with Vic before I could cry around anyone. I mastered doing so silently when I was certain I had a few moments alone._ ” Fenris took a chance and swiped a few stray tears away with his thumb. “ _Thank you for not running from me or pulling back. I know what you and your brother lived, so if you need to speak about it, I’m here for you both. If you don’t want me in your life, tell me so I may grieve Vulpine._ ”

She had jerked, startled, at the first touch of his thumb upon her cheek though she didn’t pull away; she lifted impossibly-blue eyes to stare up and meet his gaze, and he was struck by how much her eyes reminded him of his brother’s eyes - that same shade shade of cerulean blue, like a clear, flawless sky over Tevinter.

“ _I... I hardly know you,_ ” she confessed. “ _But... I’m not running away. Not... not right now, anyway._ ” She glanced over at Anders. “ _He - he showed me his scars. So I’d trust him. He told me what happened in the Circle. I never dreamed a magister - a mage - could be treated like that. He never asked to see my scars, he - he just... knew._ ” She glanced back to Fenris. “ _Are... are you telling me I can trust you... like him?_ ”

“ _Yes, my scars aren’t really ...visible but I have them._ ” he said quietly. “ _You can trust me but it will come in time or it won’t, I can’t force you nor would I try. I’m...just asking for a chance to know you Vulpine, whatever that takes I’ll do it. What do you need from me to show you can trust me?_ ” Fenris realized he sounded needy but he didn’t care, not when she seemed on the edge of letting him in.

Her gaze had dropped to his arm; and as he spoke, she lifted a hand and tentatively stroked her forefinger slowly along one line of lyrium from his elbow to his wrist. He felt a strange tingling in his skin that seemed to ripple out through the rest of his lyrium slowly, as though he were a bell and she had lightly tapped him.

“ _You’re wrong,_ ” she said softly, still staring at the lyrium. “ _Your scars_ are _visible. Most people just don’t realise what they’re looking at._ ”

“ _You’re smart...so smart._ ” he said softly with a hitch in his voice. 

“ _I had to be,_ ” she replied. “ _Xerxeus would have killed me long ago if I weren’t. I had to figure out how to control myself and the magic before he did. Otherwise, I’d just be... a tool. A thing. He tried to take my mind, but I was always one step ahead. But he’d have caught me in the end. He always did. Six times, but I would have made it seven._ ” Her gaze was still on the lyrium.

“ _I can see why Anders likes you so much, you’re like him in some ways. I’m … proud of your escapes. I got away once, and I was found. When Danarius got me back, he made me kill a lot of good people who had helped me. I ran away after that, as fast and as far as I could and when I stopped? I screamed and cried and grieved for what I’d done. I decided I’d rather die than go back._ ” Fenris said as he watched her carefully.

“ _Magisters are bastards,_ ” Vulpine declared angrily. “ _Even that Tilani bitch. She was only helping us for her own reasons. Kept talking about that Pavus guy, telling me I could help them._ ” Her lip curled in a snarl. “ _I want nothing to do with Tevinter. I didn’t get free of that place just to go back. I owe Tevinter nothing but my hatred._ ” She suddenly glanced up at him. “ _How can you go back there after what they did to you?_ ”

“ _Because I will have my revenge by returning in a position of power, one they have to respect. It galled magisters that used to have me under their bootheel to have to look me in the eye and call me ser. I have no love for Tevinter, not the one people want to pretend exists under a veneer of civility. I am going to enjoy every moment of it, and if it fails I won’t cry. My only concern is keeping the Venatori from taking it back. That cannot happen._ ” Fenris said with a matching sneer. 

For the first time, Vulpine actually grinned - a feral grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “ _You said the poison used on Anders was a Tevinter poison. Someone must have made or bought it._ ” She looked as though she were about to say something more, but suddenly she glanced at Anders. A moment later, the blond mage gave a small, sleepy sigh as he shifted slightly and turned his head upon the pillow, his eyes drifting slowly open.

Fenris gave her another smile at seeing Anders waking. “ _We can speak more later, I don’t want to distress him while he’s still recovering. I...thank you for talking with me._ ” 

She smiled a little shyly and shrugged. “ _I... it’s OK,_ ” she said softly. “ _Though it was smart of you to pick when I’d just woken up. Callus always picks then to ask me favours._ ” She grinned before she stood and glanced to Anders again. “ _The spirits are very happy he’s recovering,_ ” she added softly. “ _They’re clustered around him._ ”

“ _We’re all glad he’s recovering. It would have killed Zevran I think if we’d lost him, I’d be in a corner, sobbing. Go on and say hello, I’ll get breakfast sent up._ ” Fenris ignored the comment about him picking a vulnerable moment to speak with her. He was the same when he was just learning how to be free. “I will get us breakfast, please stay with him, I won’t be long.” Fenris gave her a long look before he headed to the kitchens. 

**

Anders drifted slowly back towards consciousness. He was warm and comfortable, the bed soft and yet firm in just the right way. For once, as he finally opened his eyes, awakening, he felt no pain anywhere in his body; he felt refreshed in a way he hadn’t in so very long.

He turned his head upon the pillow and was mildly surprised to find Fenris’ daughter Vulpine, regarding him a little shyly.

“Good morning,” he said softly. “At least - I assume it’s morning? I haven’t slept the whole day away have I?”

“No, no, it’s morning!” she reassured him hastily, her gaze dropping to the ground. He frowned slightly; he remembered how Fenris used to do that - particularly whenever he had something important to say and he wasn’t sure how it would be received. It was rare back then that the white-haired warrior would permit any to see him thus, with his usual calm self-control notable by its absence - but there had been a few occasions; enough that as Anders sat up in bed, he could see clearly that Vulpine had something she desperately wanted to say but perhaps was too afraid to voice.

“Would you bring me a glass of water?” he asked her quietly. The speed with which she leapt up from her seat - as though glad of this temporary distraction - only confirmed to Anders that there was something bothering the red-haired elven girl.

He nodded his thanks as he took the glass and drank slowly, carefully not glancing directly at Vulpine.

“You... you are feeling better?” she ventured hesitantly. “There’s more colour in your face, your - your eyes aren’t... they look brighter,” she finally finished.

“I am well,” he assured her; and it was the truth. Whatever had been in the antidote Fenris had given him, it had healed the damage from the poison and neutralised its effects. He would definitely have to talk to Fenris about that later - though it wouldn’t have surprised him if Zevran got there first.

He tilted his head a little to one side as he stared at Vulpine for a moment. “There’s something you want to tell me, and you’re afraid of how I might react,” he said.

She started visibly, and for a moment her bright blue eyes flicked up to meet his amber gaze.

“How - how did you know?” she exclaimed, before remembering herself and dropping her gaze as she added hastily, “- Grand Enchanter Anders.”

Anders chuckled. “Vulpine, haven’t you worked it out yet? You’re my apprentice - I know you. I’ve gotten used to you, your ways - the way you won’t look directly at me when you’re afraid to say something.”

“I’m not afraid!” she cried, clenching her fists as she lifted her gaze to meet his almost defiantly. He merely grinned until she relaxed a little. “Maybe I... I _was_ a little... concerned,” she admitted, quieter.

His grin softened into an encouraging smile as he gestured to her chair. “Come, sit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s... I shouldn’t worry you with this, but... but I don’t know who else to speak to,” she admitted. “None of the other teachers at the college would take me seriously.”

Anders leaned forward. “Vulpine,” he said quietly, his face now serious. “Did you not hear what I said? You are _my_ apprentice. Do you know what that means?”

She shook her head slowly.

“It means I am teaching you personally, and you answer only to _me_ and none other. You are under my protection and guidance.” His gaze was steady as he watched for her reaction. As dawning understanding crossed her face, he slowly nodded. “ _Now_ do you see?”

“Then... you truly _are_ my Master,” she said softly, then added hastily, “Oh, not like that!” as Anders’ face fell. “Not like a slave’s Master! But as an apprentice’s Master.”

He nodded slowly. “Perhaps. Vulpine, you are now the Grand Enchanter’s apprentice. The only people who outrank my orders are the Divine Herself and the Inquisitor. No-one will dare touch you, and you will have my teaching to guide you.”

Vulpine stared at Anders for a moment, as though weighing something up, and then finally nodded her head firmly as she seemed to come to some internal decision.

“I need to talk to you about - about how I killed the assassin who nearly killed you,” she said, her voice wavering a little though her gaze steady now. “And... about spirits.”

A sudden breeze suddenly sprang up in the room, though the windows were closed. Anders merely lifted an eyebrow as his hair stirred in the eddying wind, and then he lifted a hand.

“Stop.”

The breeze instantly dropped, and Anders smiled. “Interesting,” he said to himself, then leaned forward.

“So. Tell me what happened.”

 

***

Fenris returned to find Anders and Vulpine speaking quietly while Ellowynne worked on her ice magic nearby as Zevran slept on. “I brought enough for everyone, I hope.”

“Uncle Fenris!” exclaimed Ellowynne and ran to hug him, unheeding of how cold her hands were as she flung them around him.

“Easy, Imp,” said Vulpine as she caught the younger girl around the waist and lifted her effortlessly back. “Let your uncle get in the room properly - would you freeze him too?”

“Oops!” giggled Ellowyne. “Pin, make the little ice sprites again!”

“Maybe later, Wynne,” smiled the red-haired elven youth as she glanced briefly at Fenris before dropping her gaze.

Fenris gave her a smile as he kicked the door closed. “Thank you Vulpine, I’d probably have dropped the tray and startled Anders off the bed and woken Zevran.” He set the tray down and went over to the elf with a frown. “Can you help Anders up and start breakfast? I’m going to wake Zevran and he might lash out on reflex.”

“Of course,” she answered as she let Ellowynne down again then moved to assist Anders as he tentatively got to his feet, a little unsteady.

Zevran was deeply asleep, dark shadows beneath his closed eyes and a faint frown still creasing his brow even in sleep.

Fenris gently shook Zevran by his uninjured shoulder and tensed as he hoped the other elf didn’t jump up with a weapon in hand. “Carissimi, wake up I’ve brought breakfast.” 

Zevran’s eyes drifted slowly open, his gaze blank for a few moments as he stared vacantly at nothing before he suddenly twisted and without thinking, instinctively grabbed for Fenris’ wrist with his injured arm before his face blanched and he cried out, flinching away as he cradled his injured arm, the pain serving to fully awaken and ground him as he blinked up at Fenris, his eyes finally focusing on his beloved’s face in recognition.

“Oh Zevran.” Fenris said as he helped his husband get his sling back on. “Stay still I’ll get you a healing potion.” He hurried to help him, even gently holding him as he held the bottle to the Antivan elf’s lips. “Easy carissimi, easy.”

Zevran drank the potion, then managed a rueful grin as he glanced up at Fenris. “That was... not a clever move, I fear,” he confessed. “It seems certain responses are so innate in me now that even such an injury as this does not register when I am woken incautiously - or from too deep a sleep.” He frowned slightly. “I did not manage to hurt you, my heart?”

“No, startled me a bit when you shouted but I’m unhurt. Anders is awake and I’ve brought food for all of us. Can you sit up?” Fenris asked as he held Zevran close to him for a moment longer.

“I think so, though I think perhaps I should not venture far from bed today; I feel exhausted, as though I had barely slept. I dare say it will take more than one night to recover what I had lost in terms of rest and strength,” said Zevran with a quiet tone of resignation. “I do not bounce back from such things as I once did. Perhaps my misspent youth is catching up to me, eh?” He gave Fenris a wink, but the weary note in his voice belied it.

“Do you need me to bring your meal to you?” Fenris asked quietly, sure the other elf might argue it. “Or I’ll keep you and Anders company for a while if you don’t mind.”

“Something light that I might manage one-handed,” said Zevran as he tried to get himself a little more comfortable.

“You’re not leaving that bed,” said Anders without turning around as he served himself from the dishes on the tray Fenris had brought, not glancing back at Zevran as he spoke. He held still for a moment as a stray breeze passed through the room, stirring his hair before passing on. Fenris felt its cool touch briefly as Zevran’s hair was tugged lightly by the stray breeze before it died away gently. The Antivan barely noticed as he settled himself against the pillows and closed his eyes briefly. 

Fenris got a tray and rested it over Zevran’s lap before he held coffee out to the elf then fixed the porridge the way he knew his husband liked it then gave him a look. “Open, do not argue with me.”

Zevran lifted his eyes to meet Fenris’ gaze then slowly he nodded and consented to let Fenris feed him as he lay back against the pillows.

Ellowynne paused as she ate her own breakfast, then turned and whispered something to Vulpine who shrugged then gave her an odd little smile before going back to her own food.

Fenris continued until the porridge was empty and he’d given Zevran a bit more coffee. “Still hungry?” 

Zevran shook his head. “No, I think I shall be fine now,” he said. He lifted his good hand and reached for the cup of coffee, glancing up at Fenris as he arched an eyebrow in silent question.  
Once he’d cleared the tray, Fenris glanced at Zevran, unsure what he was getting at. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I can manage the coffee myself,” replied Zevran as he reached for the cup again.

He gave Zevran a kiss on the cheek before he turned to see Anders, Vulpine and Ellowynne all staring at him. “Is something wrong?”

Anders merely grinned as he turned back to his own mug of coffee, but Vulpine and Ellowynne exchanged a glance before, curiously, Vulpine blushed slightly before busying herself with the contents of her plate.

“Nothing’s wrong, Uncle Fenris,” said Ellowynne. “I think it’s rather sweet the way you look after Uncle Zevran.”

“Well, I love him Imp. You’re supposed to take care of the ones you love, like your daddy does for you.” Fenris slid into his seat for his own meal, studiously avoiding them as he felt his ears warm just a bit.

“I was just saying to Pin that you look after Uncle Zevran just the same as Uncle Zevran was looking after Daddy,” replied Ellowynne with a smile.

Fenris blushed even more as he glanced at the girls. “Pin? Is that what you like to be called then?” he asked instead of admitting the girls were right.

Vulpine dropped her gaze and fidgeted. “Well, it’s... It’s short and easy for Wynne to remember....”

“It’s prettier than ‘Vulpine’,” interjected Ellowynne, “And it’s less of a mouthful. And besides, ‘Vulpine’ probably wasn’t even her real name anyway - just the name that evil bastard who bought her gave her.”

“Ellowynne!” exclaimed Anders as he lifted his head and stared at her, a sharp look in his eyes. “What have I told you about using words like that?”

“Daddy, even _you_ referred to him as an evil bastard,” replied Ellowynne, fixing him with a knowing look that Fenris had seen often on Anders’ own face in the past. “Not to mention Uncle Zevran _and_ I heard Uncle Fenris say it too.”

Vulpine glanced at Fenris and arched an eyebrow as if to ask it it were true.

“I said worse, just not where you could hear me Ellowynne. I called him much, much worse things.” Fenris grinned at Vulpine before he refilled his coffee and sat back. 

Vulpine shrugged. “He _was_ a bastard,” she said diffidently. “Now he’s dead. And he can’t say a thing if I decide not to use the name he gave me. In fact, _no-one_ can.” She glanced to Anders as if for confirmation; Anders merely nodded.

“I can wear what I want, and I can eat what I want,” Vulpine went on. “I can read whichever books I want - because I _can_ read now. And I can go where I want and talk to whomever I want. I belong to _me._ ”

“Freedom tastes good, doesn’t it?” said Anders quietly.

“Better than the biggest feast,” Vulpine agreed.

“Then what do you wish to be called? I will abide by that, and if you like you can call me Leto, it was my name before Danarius took it and ...everything else from me.” Fenris said before he found his coffee interesting.

“I haven’t decided yet,” the red-haired girl confessed. “But Pin will do for now. It’s what Wynne’s been calling me anyway.” She smiled.

“I knew a Wynne once,” said Anders thoughtfully as he glanced to his daughter and smiled indulgently.

“As did I,” said Zevran from his place in bed. “A most forthright woman - most formidable, and a very powerful Spirit Healer.”

“As Pin is shaping up to be, at least that’s what I’ve heard from Anders.” Fenris gave her a smile as he finished his meal and rose. “If you would speak with me more, I would like that very much ...Pin.” he finished with a tentative hope.

“I... I’d like that,” she replied, her eyes upon her plate once more.

“Do you wish to talk now? Or would you like to stay with Wynne and Anders for a bit longer?” He asked, sounding unsure enough that the others all looked at him in concern.

The red-haired girl glanced to Anders for a moment; when the blond mage inclined his head towards Fenris, she gave him a hesitant smile before turning to Fenris. “Now... now would be fine,” she said quietly.

“Lead on, if you wish to go to your room, or mine or my office or wherever you’d be comfortable Pin.” Fenris gave her another shy smile as he waited for her to pick a spot to talk.

“Your office is fine,” she shrugged. She glanced back at Anders, a troubled look in her eyes. “About what we talked about....”

“It’s fine, Pin,” said Anders gently. “You’ll be safe with Fenris - as safe as if I stood beside you. You’ve no reason to fear.”

She nodded, a little doubtful, but turned to Fenris. “I think I’m finished, if you are?”

“Yes, I won’t let any more harm come to you Pin, I promise..” Fenris waited for her to exit before he took the lead towards his office, making sure he didn’t get too far ahead of her. Once they were in, he left the door open a bit, and made she she knew she could leave. “Would you like something to drink?”

She sat where she would have a clear line of escape to the door if need be; she didn’t think it likely she’d need to, but old habits died hard and Skyhold was still very strange, new and different from anything she’d ever known.

“Water, please,” she said absently as she glanced around the office, trying to glean something of the man staring almost nervously at her, from the furnishings he had chosen to surround himself with.

Fenris poured her water and slipped a tray of sweets towards her. “Thank you for speaking with me, it means a lot.” 

She stared at the sweets with wide eyes then glanced up at him as though expecting them to be snatched away again at any moment as she slowly reached her hand towards one.

The warrior sat back and sipped his own water as he watched her, once she’d taken a few he slowly took one for himself. “I keep these around, I’ve always liked sweets even before I escaped. You may stop by when you wish to have some.” 

“Xerxeus used to let me have one or two whenever I’d done something he was particularly pleased by,” said Pin quietly. “Sometimes he’d hold them out to me then snatch them away again, laughing.” A sly smile played at the corner of her lips. “I stole one once. It was the best thing I’d ever tasted - almost as good as freedom.”

Fenris’ lips curled in a smirk. “The forbidden always tastes best.” He took another sweet and pondered what she might want to know from him, finally just asking “What is it you wish to know of me...Pin? Anything you ask, I will try to answer as best I can.”

“I’m... not sure,” she admitted. “There’s so much I don’t know about you - where would I start?” She glanced to one side, then stared back at him with almost unnerving suddenness. “How did you and Anders meet?”

“He was with Invictus when I...hired them to help me take out my old master. I was...conflicted about him after some time. Invictus and I, were not nice to him for a long, long time before we wound up together. I hated mages for what had been done to me and he hated the world for how mages were treated. It took a lot to make me see we were very much alike, more than either of us wanted to admit at first. It was not one of my better moments.” Fenris admitted before he set a glass out for them and left a bottle of red to breathe. “I think answers to your questions might need a bit of liquid courage.”

“He told me what life was like for him in the Circle,” she said quietly. “They treated him about as well as a slave - and worse than most. He showed me his scars.” She tilted her head to one side. “When did you first see them? Was that when you realised, too? Or was it later?”

Fenris grimaced and looked at his hands. “A bit of both, I nearly drowned him when he sassed me but I’d never realized that mages could be abused as he had been. I’d only known slaves to have marks like his.” 

“In Tevinter, with an attitude like his, I’m not sure even being a Spirit Healer would have saved him from far worse,” she shrugged. “What the magisters do to mages too weak to hold their freedom... well, I’m not sure this tranquility thing he mentioned would really be the worse fate.” She eyed the two glasses for a moment. “Maybe I’ll join you in that drink,” she confessed quietly.

“He would not do well there, I know. I know I did not when we returned for the meetings with the Senate.” Fenris said quietly, pouring them each a half glass of deep, red Nevarran red. 

“He told me he’d been to Tevinter once - with you. He didn’t say anything further though - it was at the end of one of my lessons, and it seemed as if he almost couldn’t get me out of the room fast enough,” she said cautiously.

Fenris swallowed and and took a long pull of his drink. “That was a very painful time for all of us, he likely did not want you to see him break down. Which you might see depending on where this conversation goes.”

She reached for her wineglass. “I’m... not sure I’m quite ready to see that,” she confessed. “I’m not sure I would be... I mean... Perhaps we’re both too unready for this.” She made to put the glass back down, looking on the verge of fleeing.

“I’ll spare you that, perhaps we can talk about something more pleasant, if it’s possible?” Fenris offered.

“As long as it’s not about dragons and flying,” she smirked. “Sorry, Wynne’s been going on about dragons and people turning into dragons and... well, she’s got a wonderful imagination,” she finished with a fond smile as she glanced down into her glass of wine before slowly taking a sip.

Fenris stiffened and looked to Pin with a worried look. “She wasn’t imagining that.”

Pin glanced up, still grinning; her smile died as she took in Fenris’ serious expression. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly. “People can’t turn into dragons. I know enough about magic to know that - there isn’t a school of magic that would allow that; there aren’t any shape-changing spells, and in any case, there’s not enough actual body mass to transform into a dragon - well, a _small_ dragon, maybe, but that’s not the point because....” Her voice tailed off as she stared at him.

“Did Anders tell you about our trip to the Temple of Mythal?” Fenris asked. She shook her head slowly, staring at him, the wineglass in her hand forgotten now.

Fenris took a breath and launched into the tale, his expression serious as he wound down and leaned back, hopeful he had not scared her away.

She had watched him, her face still and mask-like, not giving away a hint of her thoughts as he spoke. As he stared at her with an expectant air, she lifted one eyebrow slightly.

“You’re telling me,” she said slowly, her tone flat, “That Mythal did it. That Mythal turned you into a dragon.”

“Yes that is what I’m telling you. I can show you if you do not believe me.” Fenris offered. Her eyebrow arched slightly higher.

“This room would be a bit small for a dragon, don’t you think?” she asked, her tone still one of disbelief.

“Let’s go to the valley just past the drawbridge, and if you wish we can bring Callus so he can see as well. Or I can simply show you my wings unless it would disturb you too much.” Fenris offered.

“Just show me your....” Pin echoed, then snorted, shaking her head. “This isn’t one of Wynne’s fairy stories, and I’m no kid - seriously, what do you take me for?”

Fenris sighed and tugged his tunic off before he slowly let his wings spread. “Believe me now?”

She stared at him, her eyes slowly widening, until the wineglass dropped from her fingers as she shoved her chair back and she leapt to her feet and away from him. She gestured, and suddenly a screaming, howling wind filled the room - though Pin herself remained untouched, not so much as a hair upon her head stirred out of place. The wind was bitter cold, and Fenris could have sworn there were voices in the howl of the sudden gale. Pin’s eyes were wide, her face paling as she stared at him.

“Vulpine, stop… please!” Fenris pulled the wings back in and held still so she could see he meant no harm. 

She stared at him still, her blue eyes unblinking, until she slowly drew herself up to her feet and gestured wordlessly once again. The wind dropped, and the sudden silence was almost deafening.

Fenris knelt, slowly and carefully at the side of his desk. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swore to you what I said was the truth. I will never, ever do that again if it frightened you.”

Her eyes seemed to stare through him for a moment, before flicking to a point over his right shoulder.

“He... he said I’d be safe with you,” she breathed, still staring at that spot.

“You are, I swear I would rather die than hurt you. I will not move, I will remain still so you will can be assured. Anders knows I would not hurt you, please believe me.” Fenris’ voice hitched as he bowed his head and waited.

“Not you - _him!!_ ” exclaimed Pin. Before he could ask her, bewildered, what she was talking about, Fenris suddenly felt her hand grasp his wrist and then he was yanked to his feet with surprising strength for a sixteen-year-old elf-girl. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she cast him a terrified glance over her shoulder.

“Run. _Now._ ”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness descends

Fenris let Vulpine drag him out of his office and down the hall as if the Veil had torn right behind them, he finally tugged her behind him as he bolted for Invictus’ room and slammed the door shut. “What ...was...that about?” He panted as he tried to figure out what they’d run from.

She glanced around the room then back at him with a frustrated look. “We have to go find Anders - _he_ keeps away when I’m with Anders, it’s the only place that’s safe when he comes!”

“Whose spirit is that, or is it a demon?” Fenris asked as he grabbed a spare tunic and the other sword he kept there. “Allow me to take us there?” He offered his hand to her, worried at her panic.

“I don’t know - I think it’s a demon, but it’s one that Xerxeus dealt with and he’s... not the same as the others,” she moaned. “Xerxeus summoned him the first time, but afterwards he always forced me to call him because - Xerxeus said he liked me. He obeyed Xerxeus - but he would only respond if I summoned him, and I didn’t want to but I had no choice. I’d hoped with Xerxeus gone... but I was a fool, of _course_ he’d still come. He’s afraid of Anders though.”

“We’ll get rid of it, once Dorian is well and Anders can fight it then we’ll get rid of this damned demon. Let me carry you I can run faster.” Fenris was scowling as stared at the door and kept the burst of swears he felt on his tongue in. 

“Faster than a demon that can find me anywhere I go?” she pointed out bitterly.

“Yes but I’ve already frightened you once today, let me help you, please.” Fenris begged.

“What could be worse than seeing you turn into what looked like a demon and then _him_ showing up?” She blinked at him.

“Never mind, let’s go back to Anders, fast as we can run.” Fenris said without snapping, somehow. 

She nodded, thankfully not choosing to argue further.

Anders looked up, startled, as they both burst into his rooms. The mage was leaning over Zevran, one hand pressed gently to the Antivan’s bare shoulder as it glowed blue. Zevran shifted his free hand and a moment later a throwing knife appeared in his hand. He halted his instinctive movement when he saw Fenris, though the knife remained in his hand as he stared at the white-haired elf and raised an eyebrow in silent query.

“Demon...some kind of spirit, that is drawn to her showed up in my office as we spoke. She...can see it, I cannot.” Fenris explained as he slammed and bolted the door behind them. “Pin, explain what it is that you saw?”

She glanced to Anders, who straightened, his expression grave. “It’s _him_ ,” she told him tersely. “The one I told you about. The one that comes without being summoned. He’s - I think he’s getting stronger.”

Zevran glanced up at Anders. “All demons can bleed,” he said softly.

“All demons, yes,” replied Anders quietly. “I’m not so sure this is a demon, though it might have been one once. I’ve been meaning to speak to Dorian about it, but - well.” He shrugged. “He’s still not fully recovered.”

Zevran glanced at the closed and bolted door, Fenris still leaning against it. “How is it that your daughter can see it yet you cannot, _carissimi_?” he asked as he got to his feet and drew a second blade. He glanced to the elven girl. “Is it here now?”

“He’s afraid of Anders,” she replied, shaking her head.

“I’m not sure why,” said Anders, frowning slightly. 

“He thinks you’ll know him,” she replied. “He... seems to know you.” She glanced back at Fenris. “He called you ‘little wolf’,” she added.

Fenris went still and he made a choked noise as he slid against the door. “No....” 

“That’s... that’s not possible,” said Anders softly. “Danarius is dead.” He turned troubled eyes to Fenris. “You killed him. You told me so yourself. Invictus was with you, and you tore his heart out....”

“We must fight a ghost?” Zevran frowned.

“It was a demon once, but Xerxeus did something... I don’t know what, he - he _changed_ it,” said Pin, glancing from her father to Anders. “You - you know what that thing is then?”

“We do, but... that’s not possible,” Anders repeated. “And why would it be afraid of _me_? I would have thought it had far more to fear from Fenris.”

Fenris looked up at them, then to Pin, and back to Anders. “This...can’t be possible. It can’t. All this time, I’m ...not, I can’t get away from him can I?” 

“We have killed demons before, and we can kill this too,” shrugged Zevran. “Let this Danarius come; I shall make him bleed.”

Fenris shook his head slowly, and had barely gotten to his feet before someone pounding on the door made him jump. 

“Anders, Fenris? Let me ...us in, Callus is with me. What’s going on?” Vic called when he couldn’t open the door.

“Cal!” exclaimed Pin and flew to the door, scrabbling to unbolt it before she grabbed her startled sibling’s arm and dragged him inside. As Invictus followed, glancing around with a frown, Anders turned to him with a worried expression.

“A ghost, it seems,” the blond mage answered his husband. “One that’s come back to haunt Fenris I fear.”

Vic turned just as he felt Fenris’ arms around him. “Love...what do you mean to haunt...no, Danarius is dead. We’re in another damned country.” 

“Somehow, Pin’s former master appears to have bound Danarius’ spirit into a demon,” Anders said hesitantly. “How, I have no idea. I don’t want to even begin to guess at what kind of sacrifice and blood magic that must have entailed, but... Pin says it knows Fenris, and called him ‘little wolf’.”

Fenris pulled away from Invictus and paced in a circle as he tried to keep himself together. Going to pieces wouldn’t help even if he wanted to just change and fly off. “Why...why go through---Fuck. He knew, he had to have known who you are to me, even if I didn’t. It...he must have manipulated your former master. Years dead, and still he hounds me.” 

Vic watched the elf circle the room, unable to quite follow what Fenris had started to go on about. “Love, I don’t understand. I know you’re upset but you’re not making sense right now.” 

The warrior kept to his path as he spelled it out. “Even though I didn’t know of Pin or Callus, Danarius would have since he put me to ...stud. What’s missing is how his spirit, or whatever he was after I killed him found Xerxeus and allowed himself to be bound to a demon. Unless he was ...already bound before he died, or had made a deal with a demon. He did blood magic all the time...but why go so far even after death?”

“He sought immortality, perhaps?” suggested Zevran. “Men will do strange things for fear of death, no?”

“Xerxeus made me summon spirits,” said Pin quietly. “He kept bringing me things - robes soaked in blood, made me summon spirits to them. Some of them... some were magister’s robes. Sometimes the robes of people I’d seen visiting his villa, but sometimes the blood was... old.” 

“How do we kill it? I will not have him haunting me any longer!” Fenris snarled as he picked up speed as the others watched. 

“It - he, rather - is afraid of me,” said Anders as he watched Fenris pace. “Why, we don’t know.”

“You can destroy him more likely than I can, you are a Spirit Healer. I’m just...a fighter.” Fenris replied as he took a seat, nearly lashing out when Invictus tried to comfort him.

“Easy love, easy. I know you’re rattled but we’ll fight him and we’ll win.” Vic said quietly.

“If this ghost is bound to a demon, then it can bleed like a demon - and we will make it bleed, my heart,” promised Zevran.

“Pin, is this... thing... is it afraid of Hal?” asked Anders as he turned to her.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’ve never hung out around him. All I know is, it doesn’t come when the other spirits do, here in your room. Except once - when you were... were dying, in the infirmary,” she amended.

“What do we do? I don’t want to stay cooped up in here or wait for it to try and ambush me when I am not around Anders. I ...I’m sorry, this is not what I was expecting.” Fenris said as he leaned against Invictus, his arm around the other man’s leg as he tried to stop himself from snapping at everyone. 

It was Anders’ turn to pace, frowning as he thought. “It only comes when Pin summons spirits, but she’s not summoning _it_. It seems to use her summoning as an excuse to appear.” He glanced up at Pin. “You say it came when I was unconscious in the infirmary? Have there been other times?”

“Just now, when I was talking with Fenris,” she answered; she was aware of Callus giving her a sharp look but ignored it. “And once before - with Invictus.”

“What did it do on each occasion?” asked Anders as he continued to pace.

“It just... lurked there. Whispering that it could help me. That we’d be stronger together - you know, the usual demon... stuff. Until it saw Fenris and called him ‘little wolf’,” she replied.

“So it hasn’t sought Fenris out of its own accord then?” asked Anders.

“Not that I know of,” she shrugged.

“If you point it out, I’ll kill it...again, as many times as I have to.” Fenris said angrily.

“Before you go on the rampage, let’s see how we can even attack it. I will not lose you to him, not then and not now.” Vic said as he let his fingers trail through the elf’s thick hair. 

Anders glanced to Pin again. “Do you think it would come if you called?”

Her eyes widened. “Do you want me to?”

He glanced to Fenris. “Not here - I think I’d rather battle a demon somewhere less... ah... _flammable_ ,” he replied with a quick, nervous grin. “The last time Fenris, Invictus and I battled a demon indoors, it was rather hazardous to the furniture.” He put a hand to the back of his head absently. “Not to mention my health.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, I...need something from my room before we battle this thing.” Fenris said as he unwrapped himself from Vic and looked to the others before he dashed out.

Anders glanced after him, the worried look returning to his eyes. “I’m not sure I’m fully recovered enough to face a demon,” he confided quietly. “Maker, I wish....” He glanced to Zevran.

“You wish I should fetch Hal and perhaps Dorian?” suggested the elf.

“And perhaps the Inquisitor,” nodded Anders. “Meneris should know of this, at the very least, and I wonder... his mark may be effective against this thing.”

Zevran nodded, sheathing his blades as he turned and hurried off, not bothering to snatch up his shirt.

Meanwhile Fenris hurried into his armor, and retrieved two things from his dresser. Pendants that he’d worn for protection, but that still meant a lot to him. One for Pin, the one he wore as he made his way to freedom from Danarius. The other, one he’d purchased after killing Danarius for Callus. Even if they didn’t claim him as more than sire, he wasn’t going to let his demon have them. He returned to Anders’ quarters and went straight to Pin, pendant clutched tight as he offered it.

“I’ve something for you, both of you.” 

Pin glanced up from the staff Anders held - his old Warden staff, Fenris suddenly realised, recognising the blade. She stared at the pendant.

“What is it?” she asked, curious.

“A pendant I wore for luck and protection as I made my way to Kirkwall, until I killed Danarius. I want you to have it.” Fenris opened his palm and waited for her to take it.

She drew closer to him and reached out for it tentatively, frowning slightly as her fingers touched the chain. She glanced up at him, then picked up the pendant and inspected the small talisman quizzically.

Zevran returned with Meneris and Dorian, the Tevinter magister glancing to Anders who beckoned him to one side where the two mages began conferring quietly, Anders glancing up at Fenris occasionally as Dorian nodded, thoughtfully. He glanced up at Pin.

“Young lady, a word if I may?” he asked courteously. 

Pin stared at Dorian distrustfully, but at Anders’ encouraging nod she walked over and they began to converse quietly in Tevene.

Fenris turned and offered Callus the other pendant, a slight smile on his face. “I got this for myself once I’d relieved Danarius of his heart. It was one of the first things I’d bought for myself. If you will have it, it’s yours Cal.” 

Callus took the pendant and glanced at it curiously, then shrugged. “Sure - can’t hurt, I guess,” he answered. 

“Meneris,” Anders said as he turned back to the others. “I think the sooner we deal with this thing the better. I doubt you like the idea of some unseen demon lurking about any more than we do.”

“Agreed, do what you need and if my sword can be of use, it’s yours.” Meneris looked around the room and sighed. “I’ll be glad when things are not as exciting.”

“”You and I both, Amatus,” answered Dorian as he shrugged. “I think -” He broke off as Hal arrived. “Ah, good! At least one of our spirit healers will be at full strength.” He glanced back to Anders. “I still think perhaps you should sit this out; you’re not fully recovered yet.”

“No more are you,” Anders replied with a shrug. “If there’s something after Fenris then I’ll not let him face it without me however.”

“This creature is afraid of Anders. We should make use of that, I am thinking,” said Zevran.

Hal was carrying a bag slung over his shoulder; as Zevran spoke, he produced a pair of long curved blades. “Perhaps you should take these, Zevran,” he suggested.

The Antivan stepped forward and accepted the fighting knives almost reverently. “Ah - these were Belann’s, were they not?”

“They were,” Hal nodded. “I know you’re not a mage so you can’t use them as he did - but they _are_ enchanted, and may serve you better against this demon you describe, better than your own knives.”

“Perhaps you are right,” nodded Zevran.

Fenris turned to them and gave a wan smile. “Then let us go to the area beyond the drawbridge to face my...demon. If anything happens to me, do not let it get away no matter what the cost. Do you understand? I cannot let it have Pin or Cal, even if I fall.”

“I do wish you’d reconsider,” Dorian remarked to Anders, then held his hands up in appeasement as Anders turned and glared at him. “Far be it for I, of all men, to suggest the course of prudence however.” He glanced to Meneris. “Particularly when I have just been arguing against it myself.” He smiled ruefully.

Fenris led them out of the room and towards the drawbridge, his expression grim as he didn’t break his stride even for Invictus’ calling his name.

“Damn him and his bullheadedness.” Vic muttered as he fell in behind Pin and Callus.

“Inquisitor?” called Cullen from the battlements as he caught sight of the group moving towards the gate; he headed down the stairs towards them. “Is there something the matter?” He frowned as he glanced at Dorian, then his eyes widened. “Maker, Pavus - what are you doing out here?”

“Do be a fellow and keep onlookers away from the drawbridge, Cullen?” asked Dorian, pointedly ignoring Cullen’s question. 

“Please do as Dorian asks, and we’ll explain once we’re done, thank you Cullen.” Vic said as he passed by with his arm around Zevran. 

“Wait - should Anders even still be out of bed?” Cullen exclaimed.

“Not you too,” Anders muttered. “Cullen, please - just... trust us. Keep people away. There’s a demon, and we need to deal with it away from where it could harm anyone.”

Vic shook his head no and continued on among them, his gaze at Fenris’ back and the way Pin and Callus walked with arms looped together as if they were on their way to their doom. His gaze shifted once they were in the valley and Fenris stood before Anders, ready to have the ordeal over with. 

“Do whatever you have to Anders, no matter what may happen.” Fenris glanced around quickly then focused on his husband. “I’m ready.”

“Maker, I’m not sure I am,” Anders confessed. He glanced to Pin, his gaze uncertain.

“Pin, you don’t have to do this,” muttered Callus.

“No, I do,” she replied uneasily. “It’s getting stronger. We both know it’s been getting stronger since Xerxeus died.” She pulled away from her brother and moved to stand beside Anders.

“Will it come if you summon it?” the blond Enchanter asked her quietly. “Did Xerxeus use blood to summon it?”

“The first time... yes,” she nodded. “After that, it came whenever I called to it.” She shuddered. 

“Take my blood then.” Fenris said softly, his gaze on Pin steady.

“No!” exclaimed Anders, horrified. “No blood!”

“Then how is she to summon it?” asked the warrior.

“Not with your blood or anyone else’s. We’d never get that thing away from you once it got a taste of you.” Vic replied.

“You’ve shed enough blood for Danarius!” said Anders. He clutched at Fenris’ hands. “Love, please, no blood.”

“It comes without me calling anyway,” Pin shrugged. “If I call other spirits, it comes too.”

“As you wish Anders, I just want this thing...over with so I can go and hide for a while. A long, long while I think.” Fenris said as he glanced between Pin and his husband. “As I said, I’m ready.”

Anders looked to Pin and drew a deep breath. “This is your show, in a manner of speaking, Pin. You seem to have an affinity for spirits that goes far beyond even my experience as a spirit healer. I can feel healing spirits around me when I heal, but I can’t command them in the way you seem to. And I’ve never summoned a demon - Maker, I’m not sure I have any right to ask this of you! You’re my apprentice; it’s my duty to protect you. You... you’ve not even been Harrowed, though - Andraste’s tits, this goes far beyond anything any Circle mage ever went through at their Harrowing.” He stared at her, guilt plain upon his face. 

“I’ve never heard of any mage summoning a demon without the use of blood magic,” remarked Dorian. “Usually they require an offering first. Most demons lose interest in a mage that has proven resistant to their temptations.”

Anders suddenly turned to Fenris, his eyes widening in dawning realisation. “You asked Pin to take your blood for the summoning,” he whispered in horror. “Fenris, you asked _your own daughter_ to perform blood magic!” 

As Fenris’ own eyes widened with the understanding of what he had asked of Pin, Anders reached for the elven girl’s shoulders and he drew her towards himself as he took a step back, away from Fenris, then pulled Pin behind himself protectively. “You can’t do this - Fenris, what in Andraste’s name is _wrong_ with you? Your _own daughter!_ ”

“ _Venhedis_ , he’s right,” said Dorian quietly. 

Fenris blinked and backed away from them. “I..it’s the only way I’ve known about demons. I..I. Never mind, I am sorry Pin, Anders. I simply wanted it gone, I didn’t think. Excuse me please.” The elven warrior turned away and headed towards the Keep.

Anders remained standing protectively in front of Pin, who was now staring wide-eyed from the blond enchanter to the retreating form of her father and then to Callus, who was equally wide-eyed.

“I can’t believe he would do that,” whispered Anders. He was shaken badly that Fenris, of all people, should have been so willing to resort to blood magic.

Invictus stared at them both then looked to where Fenris had gone. “Do you honestly think he would do that on purpose? Do you see how rattled he was? Now, he’s going ..fuck Anders. I know he wa wrong, but this is really bad. I’m going to find him, I’ll catch up with you all later so we can think of an alternative.” 

“Vic, he wanted her to use _blood magic!_ ” exclaimed Anders; he tugged at his hair distractedly as he stared at the former champion. “I... I couldn’t let him - that, that’s wrong, what’s _wrong_ with him?” His voice was slowly creeping higher towards hysteria.

“Beloved, you are distraught,” said Zevran gently as he moved towards Anders, taking hold of the blond enchanter’s wrists gently. “Look at me. No-one is going to perform blood magic. Pin will not be harmed. Do you see?”

Vic pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, he wants Danarius to quit haunting him. He wasn’t thinking of how. Do you realize how damned desperate he must be to even consider what he asked? Did you miss how he basically said go on if I die? Just, go with Zevran, Pin stay with them for now and I’ll be along later. I’ve got too much experience with how he’s going to be right now.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Hal as Zevran gently pulled Anders into his arms and held him close. Pin was now staring at Anders, reaching one hand out hesitantly before she gently patted his shoulder, looking bewildered as though she weren’t entirely sure what to do. She glanced at Callus, who gave a helpless shrug. He was a fighter, he knew nothing of magic save what he’d seen their master and his sister do, and all this talk of demons was completely over his head. 

Invictus hesitated as Hal joined him. “You haven’t seen him at his worst, he may well lash out at both of us. Are you sure you want to come with me?” 

Hal nodded. “I’m certain. I’ve seen him pretty bad before; I can handle it if he takes it out on us. Just as long as he doesn’t turn into a dragon and decide I look tasty.” He tried to grin, but his nervousness betrayed him as he fiddled with a loose thread upon his sleeve. “We should go. I... think I know where he may be. There’s this place a little further on in the valley - we’ve gone there together a few times.”

“Very well, if he turns to a dragon I’m going to run.” Vic said as he let Hal come with him. “Do you think he wouldn’t just go back inside to the Keep?”

Hal shook his head as they headed further into the valley. “No, I’m pretty certain he’ll be here. It’s become... kind of his safe place, in a way. He’s taken me here quite a number of times - usually when there’s something on his mind.” He picked his way past several boulders, skirting a small pool of water. He glanced up, then pointed. “There he is - see him? Up on that ridge.”

Vic looked up and frowned. “I am worried, he’s usually not one for high places like that, unless he’s going to change and fly off.”

“Oh Maker. We’d best hurry,” replied Hal as he stared up at Fenris. He hitched up his robes with one hand. “Come on!” He began to sprint up the hill towards the white-haired elf, who had his back to them, staring out across the mountains.

Invictus bolted after Hal, breathing a bit hard as they reached the elf. “Fenris?”

Hal reached towards Fenris but halted as he noticed the stiff way Fenris held himself. “Fenris?” he asked softly.

“Leave me alone,” the elf said without turning.

“Love, we’re worried, I know you are not so fond of heights you’d be up here unless you were about to take flight.” Vic said quietly, fearful he was going to have to grab his husband.

“Please talk to us,” Hal said softly. “I’m worried for you.” He reached out again, and very lightly laid his hand on Fenris’ arm. “Please.”

“I asked my husband and daughter to perform blood magic because I couldn’t get past my fear of what has been done to me. Leave me, I am unfit to be around anyone right now.” Fenris shifted so Hal no longer touched him.

Hal drew his hand back, his gaze troubled. “There’s a demon pursuing you. Anyone would be afraid in your shoes,” he said quietly. “You’ve spoken of Danarius to me before - I think _anyone_ would react badly at the prospect of a creature like that following you. Desperate men do desperate things, Fenris. It doesn’t make you a bad man. Only... mortal.” He tilted his head a little to one side. “I still love you,” he added very softly.

“None of you, save Pin and Callus understand what I was put through.” Fenris’ voice was rough as he glanced back at them just enough to let them see how wrecked he was before he turned his gaze to the valley. 

“You’re right,” said Hal desperately. “We can’t know. I have only my experiences in the Gallows to compare, and you’ve been through so much worse than I have. I can only dream of what you’ve been through. But....” He took a step closer, his balance precarious on the shale slope. “I love you, and I want to help. Please. Love.” He reached his hand towards Fenris again.

“Hal, stop this” Fenris said as he tried to keep the young mage safe before he turned to his husband and found himself embraced hard enough to topple them both.

Hal made a grab for Fenris as the elf and the former Champion began to fall; he managed to grasp the hem of Fenris’ tunic, and then they were falling - tumbling, scrabbling desperately for a handhold, anything, attempting to halt their headlong fall down the steep scree slope as a cascade of loose rocks and stones tumbled down around them, bruising and battering them as they slid and fell helplessly down the mountainside.

At some point in their tumble, Fenris had changed partially to try and soften the blow against his tougher, draconic hide but didn’t quite manage to avoid injuring himself, Hal and Invictus as they slid. He groaned in pain as he tried to get up and realized something was sprained, if not broken from their fall. 

“Love, Hal?” Vic called as he sat up and winced at the scrapes he could feel under his clothes and the stickiness of blood coming from...somewhere on him. There was a faint moan from somewhere to his left as Invictus raised his head and glanced that way, he saw Hal sprawled upon his back, half-buried in the scree. His eyes were closed, and blood ran down the side of his face. As Invictus watched, Hal slowly opened his eyes and stared back at him, his eyes dazed and unfocused.

“F-Fenris?” Hal managed weakly. “Fenris... where....”

“Here...I’m hurt” the elf rasped as he laid back and tried to figure out where he was most injured. “Something...might be broken.”

“I’m the least hurt, I think.” Vic said until he tried to stand. “Or not…”

Hal managed to turn onto his side and began to slowly claw his way out of the scree, his movements hesitant and unco-ordinated as he began to crawl towards Fenris.

“Can you teleport us back or are you too injured?” Vic asked with a hiss as he ripped at the shredded material and bloodied cloth.

“Where... where are you injured?” Hal asked as he managed to make it as far as the injured elf. He reached a hand out, his fingers glowing with the blue aura of healing magic as he attempted to help Fenris, heedless of his own injuries and the blood now running freely down the side of his face.

“Upper...arm, might be broken, it really hurts.” Fenris hissed as he tried to remain still as Hal worked on him. “You’re bleeding..”

“What?” said Hal dazedly as he glanced up at Fenris. 

“You’re bleeding, your face is almost covered.” Fenris closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Please it hurts...so much.”

Hal put a hand to his face then stared at the blood, his eyes still unfocused. “Oh. So I am.” He put his hand to his head and swayed slightly as he sat up. “Don’t... don’t worry about me. Just... just stay still, let me heal you.” He shifted a little up the slope carefully so he could reach Fenris’ arm and set to work, channelling mana into the broken bone, carefully deadening the nerves before bone began to shift, realign and regrow, tendons wrapping about the new growth as he steadily worked with single-minded attention until the arm was whole once more.

He lifted the nerve block and smiled at Fenris before slowly slumping down onto the shale, his eyes slowly drifting closed as he almost gracefully collapsed.

Fenris flexed his arm and winced, his expression tense as he turned to Invictus. “Can you get over here? If I’m touching all of us, I can get us to the infirmary.” 

“Yeah, I think this looks worse than it feels. These trousers are for the fire though.” Vic mumbled as he crawled over to Fenris and wrapped himself around the elf. “Ready when you are.”

Hal groaned faintly but managed to reach out a hand to touch Fenris arm again. “Take us home,” he murmured, his eyes drifting half-open as he attempted to focus on Fenris. 

The elf did that, winding up in the Infirmary thankfully in a spot where they didn’t startle anyone. “I’m just going to lie down here on the cold floor.” Hal had already dropped where he landed, sprawled unconscious next to him whilst Invictus groggily sat up.

“Hal? Fenris - First Enchanter Hawke?” exclaimed Parcival as he hurried towards them. “Sweet Maker, what happened to you all?”

“Took a tumble, Hal healed Fenris but I’m still banged up, mind the knee.” Vic let Parcival help him to his feet and got him to a cot. “Hal has a head injury and Fenris is just exhausted, let him lie there for now. Get Hal cleaned up first please, I’ll keep until you can help me.”

Parcival nodded as he crouched down next to the unconscious Hal. “Rebecca! I’m going to need help!” he called as he gently rolled Hal over then frowned at the blood smeared down the side of the young mage’s face.

“I’m here,” called Sister Rebecca as she hurried towards them, a folded blanket in her arms. “Here, lay this over Ser Fenris. Now, about Hal....” She tutted as she knelt down next to Hal, briefly resting her hand on Parcival’s shoulder as he glanced at her with an oddly fond expression for a moment.

“Let’s get Hal off the floor,” said Sister Rebecca. “Take his feet, dear I’ll lift his head and shoulders.”

Vic closed his eyes to the sounds of the Infirmary, only to drift off until he felt someone trying to pull his pants off very carefully. “Hmm stop, stuck...to me.”

“I’m sure we can do something about that,” purred a soft voice. “You look very tired. Why don’t you just close your eyes and rest while I... clean you up. Hmm? How does that sound?”

“Sounds nice, just gonna try to sleep through this cause I’m tired, so cold and tired.” Vic mumbled as he let his eyes drift closed again.

“So very tired, aren’t you? And so very cold.” The voice drifted nearer, softer. “Let yourself drift away... you’re safe with me. Here, let me warm you.” The voice was a gentle purr in Invictus’ ear, enchanting and almost mesmerizing. Invictus felt he almost recognised it, but he couldn’t quite place it. The familiarity was soothing however.

“That’s it. Just let yourself rest....”

Soon, the former Champion was deeply asleep as someone took care of him, soothed him as he drifted warm and comfortable. The soft laughter as he drifted into dreamless sleep seemed to wrap around him as consciousness fled, and with it the last lingering thought that he knew that voice, remembered it; remembered a room in the Hanged Man, in Kirkwall....

And then it was gone, and he slept.

And Danarius laughed softly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are made, fences mended and no one wants to see Anders truly angry.

Back in the valley, Meneris was holding Dorian up as he wondered what in the Void had just happened and what they were going to do about the demon. “So...Anders, care to explain why we’re out here and not fighting this creature?”

Zevran had succeeded in calming down Anders, who was sitting on a nearby fallen log and looked shaken. “It’s... hard to explain,” he said slowly. “Fenris used to be a slave in Tevinter - owned by a magister named Danarius. It was Danarius who put the lyrium in Fenris’ skin, carving it into him. The experience was so painful and traumatic that it drove out all memory of who he was; it’s why he hates being touched even now when Mythal healed him and restored all his memories. He escaped Danarius and fled to Kirkwall. When Danarius finally came to reclaim him, as I understand it Fenris ripped his heart out - I wasn’t there at the time, but Invictus and Varric told me the gist of what happened. 

“As far as I can tell, Danarius must have made some deal with a demon to - I don’t know, bond somehow after his death, using the powers of Fenris’ daughter and the blood sacrifices her master made. I think perhaps Danarius had somehow enslaved Xerxeus through blood magic. This demon... it’s no ordinary demon. It’s Danarius spirit, bound to the demon, and... I think it wants to find a way to escape the Veil, the Fade - to possess someone and get to Fenris. Maybe even possess Fenris himself. We can’t allow it to take hold of anyone, so I had hoped that Pin might be able to summon it without the need for blood magic, but... well. You saw what happened.” 

He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry. I made things worse. I just... I couldn’t let him use Pin like that. I’m... she’s my apprentice, I can’t -”

Pin moved to his side and laid a hand tentatively upon his shoulder. “It’s OK,” she said quietly. “You were only trying to protect me, Master.”

Meneris’ eyebrows rose at the word Master. “Vulpine, why did you call Anders that? He’s not …”

“I’m not his slave, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Pin as she glanced up at him. “But he is my Master - I am his apprentice, and I answer only to him - and, I guess, you too. It’s... not a slave thing - he’s my teacher. My....” She glanced to Anders and added softly. “My protector.” 

“I’m pretty sure Pin would fry him on the spot if he did get that idea in his head, Inquisitor. Might I suggest we go back to the Keep? I’m sure the Commander is curious as to what happened out here. Anders also looks ready to fall over.” Callus said as he gave his sister a grin.

“I... yes, you’re right,” said Anders tiredly. “I think maybe I’m just not recovered enough from the poison. I’m sorry.” He glanced up at Dorian. “How are you holding up?”

The magister shrugged ruefully as he leaned against Meneris. “I will confess that I’ve felt better - and the temptation to simply fall over is... well.” He gave a small chuckle. “Let’s just say I’m glad Meneris came with us.” He glanced to his husband and his smile softened. “Amatus,” he whispered.

Meneris gave him a brief kiss before he looked to the path back. “Come on, let’s get our weary mages settled in and we can discuss next steps after everyone has had something to eat. “

“I can assist you...Magister Pavus, if you wish.” Callus offered.

Dorian blinked then pulled a small _mou_ of distaste. “I suppose I shall have to get used to people addressing me like that but _venhedis_ , I am not my father. Do just call me Dorian, Callus.” He sighed. “I must return to Tevinter as soon as I am able; I fear my father’s funeral must have taken place already as I was recovering here. It will have caused considerable scandal, and I am not looking forward to that.” He glanced away, and then suddenly looked up as an idea suddenly struck him. “Oh. I wonder... yes... it could work!” He glanced around. “I must speak with Fenris - hmm, I shall need to make some calculations, but... yes, I do think it would work!” He glanced at Meneris. “We must get back quickly. I need to consult my books.”

“Why must you speak to father right now...Dorian?” Callus asked as he helped Meneris lead the mage back in. 

“Dorian...what are you planning?” asked the elven fighter. 

“Time, Meneris. The theory I devised with Alexius - remember, I helped him develop it? I brought us back in time. I think I can work out a way to return to Qarinus in time to be present at my father’s funeral. It... it may not work, I need to consult my books, work out the calculations, talk to Fenris. But if it works... _venhedis_ , the possibilities!” His eyes were bright with excitement, his gaze distracted, his mind working furiously.

Pin was staring at Callus sharply. “You... you called Fenris ‘father’,” she said quietly. “You... you’ve... accepted him?” She glanced away, a small frown upon her face. Zevran regarded her with a thoughtful look as he helped Anders along, one arm slung around the blond mage’s waist as Anders leaned against him, barely taking heed of the way they were going.

Callus tilted his head at her with a sad expression. “A while ago Pin, but that’s not a conversation for anyone but us. Once we get back, let’s talk in your room about things, if you want that is.” 

“As long as it means we get back in for dinner, I’m all for moving about now.” Meneris added before he got them headed back. 

Pin glanced back at Callus as she walked beside Anders, carrying his staff as well as the warden staff he had given her. She nodded. “Yes, I think we need to talk,” she agreed. “I... there’s... things I need to tell you.”

“So I gathered.” Cal replied, his thoughts on Fenris and what could come next. He was quiet as they returned and even as he helped get Dorian settled while Pin helped with her...protector as she’d called Anders. He wouldn’t call the man master, even if she meant it in a different way. 

He waited outside Anders’ rooms for her, almost impatient as he wondered at her calling Anders her protector, especially someone she’d taken for a magister at first sight. Cal looked up when the door opened, relieved to see his sister. “Hey, is everyone doing ok?”

Pin glanced back into the room at Anders lying down on the bed as Zevran gently tugged a blanket over the exhausted mage, then turned back to Callus and nodded. “I think he’ll be OK - he just pushed himself a little too hard,” she shrugged. “So... upstairs then?”

“Yeah, your room is ok for you?” Cal said as he pushed off the wall and joined his sibling.

“Sure,” she shrugged as she closed the door behind her. Callus noticed she still had Anders’ Warden staff slung on her back as she headed down the corridor and he followed.

Cal waited till they got settled in the room and poured himself a drink. “So… you said you have stuff to tell me?”

Pin unslung the staff and stood it in the corner by her bed, next to the plainer staff she’d been using since they’d left Tevinter. She turned and began to pace slowly. “I’m... not sure how to start,” she confessed. She glanced at her brother as she paused in her pacing. “You called Fenris father - you said you’d been doing that for a while. How... how did you....” Her voice tailed off as she stared at him. “What made you... call him that?”

“He and I talked, a lot Pin. He’s scared like I told you. He held nothing back, told me how he wanted to know us...how you turning away hurt but he’d resolved to accept you if you never let him in. He’s a good man Pin, and ...it’s been nice to have someone who gets what we’ve been through to talk to. He’s not bad Pin, he wants to be there for us however we let him, on our terms. I gave him a chance, and he’s been really good so far.” Cal sipped his wine and let her think on what he said.

She wrapped her arms around her torso and bowed her head a little. “I... he and I talked - just before... _he_ appeared. He came to check on Master Anders this morning, and he caught me just as I woke up.” She turned her head slightly and flashed him a small grin. “Just like you do when you’re after something.”

“Pin, I’m pretty sure he didn’t plan to find you like that. He was likely checking on Anders and didn’t realize you were there. You think everyone is up to something.” Cal frowned slightly at her but didn’t keep at it. “So are you going to give him a chance finally?”

She cast him a desperate look. “Can you blame me for being suspicious? After all that’s happened to us - after what... what our mas- what Xerxeus put me through?” She lowered her head until her face was hidden by her wild red hair. “I... I _want_ to trust him. I almost felt....” She gave a low sigh as she hugged herself tightly. “I can’t let it go. I wish I could just accept this as easily as you. But... I’m afraid, Cal. Everything’s so different. Master Anders... he’s, he’s gentle, he doesn’t push, he... lets me take things at my own pace. He has scars - he’s been through something similar to how we were treated. I... trust him. I...” She glanced up at her brother slowly, and her cheeks were tinged with a faint blush.

“Stop calling him Master, after all we survived how can you even say that about a mage?” Cal snarled, looking very much like Fenris in that moment.

She flinched as though he’d slapped her and turned her face away. “It’s not like that! It isn’t! He’s my teacher - what else am I supposed to call him? I’m his apprentice - his _only_ apprentice!”

“Then find another word for him, at least around me. Perhaps try his name? Having Fenris as his spouse, knowing what we went through and his own experience yet you use _that_ word?” Cal finished his drink and refilled it. “What else did you need to talk about?” 

She turned away and dropped down into a chair, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them as she curled up slightly in the chair. Callus recognised her body posture - his sister was afraid; afraid as he’d rarely seen her before.

“That - that spirit, demon, _thing_ \- Callus, it knows me. And... I think it’s found someone. The spirits... the healing spirits that linger around Mas- around... Anders.... they whisper to me, and they say it’s - he - he’s found someone. He’s crossed through the Veil. Cal, someone here in Skyhold - they...” She choked back a sob. “He’s possessed them. But I don’t know who. I just know it’s someone - someone close to F-Fenris.” She stared at her brother, fear in her eyes.

“Once everyone is calm, we will see what to do. For now, what’s got you spooked Pin? I’ve hardly seen you afraid, enough that I could tell. I’m your brother, let me help you.” Cal offered her more wine and sat back.

She accepted the wine and uncurled a little to sip at it. “I’m scared of what that thing could do now it’s possessed someone. And I’m afraid of - of my magic. I’ve been losing control over it; I don’t even have to summon the spirits any more. They’re all around me wherever I go, and... and I think I’m beginning to see the Fade around me, even when I’m awake. And I don’t know how to explain this to - to Anders. It’s been happening ever since we got here and I don’t know what to do, Cal.”

“The Veil is thin here, and the Inquisitor has that mark. Do you think it affects you somehow?” Cal asked. She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

“It’s worse around him,” she said quietly. “If I stand too near him, it’s... it’s almost like I’m standing in the Fade, and -” She covered her face with her hand and fought back a sob. “I’m trying so hard not to get drawn in, but... there’s something about his mark, it’s like a rift into the Fade, and the spirits are drawn to it like moths to a flame and I can feel it pulling me too.”

“Make sure to tell Anders that when you talk with him again, probably in a couple of days. I won’t let them have you Pin, and you can talk to me you know that right? You don’t have to run to Anders, he’s not your blood kin. We are.” Cal said quietly.

She darted him a guilty look. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Anders just makes me feel safe. He....” She dropped her gaze to her glass of wine. “I want to - to be able to trust Fenris, but... he doesn’t feel like a father to me, and Anders....” Her voice tailed off as she hunched over.

“Anders what? Don’t tell me you ...Dumat below Pin! You called the man a magister in moments of meeting him and you trust him more than Fenris? I can’t believe you.” Cal’s lip curled in disgust as he stared at her.

She gave him a pleading look. “Please, Cal, don’t look at me like that! You don’t understand!”

“No, I don’t so explain it to me then Pin. Unless there are other reasons you’re so willing to give a mage a pass not a year away from that fucking place and our lives.” Cal dropped the sneer, but he wasn’t happy with how his sister had turned on him and Fenris for a mage’s approval.

“He’s gentle, and kind, and patient - he taught me to read, and... and I feel safe around him and... Cal, I get this kind of... tingly feeling when I’m around him and he makes me feel... special. Like I really mean something to him. Did you know, he’s never taken an apprentice - not like this, the Grand Enchanter - and I’m his apprentice, and I can go where I like, do pretty much what I like, and - and the guards treat me differently, and I only have to answer to him, the Inquisitor, or the Divine herself. After what we went through - it’s like living in a dream, and he’s given me so much and -” 

Her voice tailed off as a dreamy look came across her face. “And I’ve watched him working, and he has the most beautiful, graceful hands, and his magic - it’s so lovely and gentle and soothing. He’s a wonderful healer and I can learn so much from him. You have no idea what it was like for me under Xerxeus - he forced the magic from me, and it hurt whenever he made me use it. Like it was burning in my veins, in my skin. It’s not like that with Anders. You ask how I’m willing to trust a mage? Cal, I _am_ a mage - and I’m not being used any more, and the magic doesn’t hurt now. I - I feel more than grateful, I think I....” She fell silent as her blue eyes widened suddenly. 

“Cal, I... I think I love him.”

The other elf raised a brow in shock as he took in her words. “Pin, he is older than Fenris and married to three other men. That is not a path you want to go down, believe me. Best let that fancy alone and never breathe a word of it to him, or Fenris, First Enchanter Hawke or Spymaster Hawke. Especially not the Spymaster, he’ll break your heart without meaning to.” Cal wished for something stronger as he pondered his wine.

“We’re just sixteen, there’s no way he’d love you back like that Pin you have to know that.” 

Pin’s face fell and she lowered her head. “I know,” she said miserably. “But I dream about him nearly every night and I just... I just want to be near him. I was so afraid when he was poisoned - I thought he would die. And he’s still so weak and it worries me. But I haven’t breathed a word to anyone about how I feel - only you, here, now.” She looked up at him with a worried look. “You... you won’t tell anyone, will you Cal? Please promise me you won’t breathe a word?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you Pin. Do you realize ...no, that’s not right to say, not now. But tread carefully with him. If Zevran or the others get a hint of this they will set you straight. Not to be cruel, but to keep you from heartache.” Cal said with a sigh. “I need something stronger than this.”

Pin sipped her wine miserably. “I don’t have anything else - I’m not even used to drinking wine, to be honest.” She sighed softly. “I don’t know what to do. I just know I want to be near him. I won’t breathe a word; I just....” She bowed her head. “I know it’s pointless and he’ll never look at me the way he does Fenris or Zevran or Invictus. He... sometimes he smiles at me, the way he does at Wynne and... I just want to try my hardest and make him proud of me. Is that... is that really so bad? No-one’s ever looked at me like that before. Like I’m... special.” 

“Well if you’d give Fenris a chance, and paid attention, he already looks like that when he sees you. Despite what he says Pin, he dotes on you even when you spurned him.” Cal said softly.

Her head jerked up as she stared at him, wide-eyed and startled. “He - he does?” She blinked.

“Yes, he does. Every time you’ve run off when he enters a room, I see the look on his face. Whenever he’s caught a bit of your lessons outside and seen you do a spell well he smiles. That man is as proud of us now than if he’d been there since day one of our lives. He’s been walking around with a broken heart despite saying the exact opposite of how he feels. We’ve all been slaves, you know what it’s like to hide how you feel. He didn’t want to ...I probably shouldn’t even tell you this. But he’s so proud and doesn’t care that you’re a mage Pin. His own sister betrayed him to his old master, so she could become his apprentice... and even that hasn’t stopped him from wanting us to have better.” 

Pin glanced away with a distracted look. “Oh... oh.” She glanced back at him with dawning realisation of what he said; suddenly the little looks she thought she’d seen Fenris give when he happened to walk past the training ring where she’d worked on spells with Anders made sense. “Whenever he happened to come past... that wasn’t by accident, was it? He - he’s been seeking me out to watch, hasn’t he?” She set her glass down. “ _Vishante kaffas_. I’ve been an idiot.”

“Ask him, whenever he returns to us. I’m sure he’ll want to apologize for what happened out there. The look on his face as he ran off today was painful.” Cal said with a sigh. “Do you want to look for him?” 

“I have a better idea,” she answered as she stood up. 

She closed her eyes and lifted her hands, palms up as if in supplication, and Callus could feel his skin prickling with the power of the magic flowing from his sister. Suddenly the room was filled with a strange breeze that bore with it a faint tang of some floral aroma he couldn’t quite place, and he heard soft whispers all around as Pin’s hair stirred with the wind, lifting and swirling with the eddies as she gathered power to herself. She murmured something softly, and suddenly the air was filled with softly twinkling lights. They swirled around Pin like living creatures, flittering about her almost like fireflies. A few broke away from the twinkling cloud around Pin and flittered over to swirl around Callus as though curious about him.

“Go,” said Pin softly, and suddenly the wind whipped up into a gale and then suddenly dropped, and all the twinkling lights had gone. The air was almost preternaturally still as Pin opened her eyes and smiled. “The spirits will find him and come tell me.”

“What did you do?” Cal asked curiously

“I summoned up all the healing spirits in Skyhold and sent them to find him,” she smiled. “If he’s anywhere near Skyhold, they’ll find him and then come tell me.”

Cal was surprised at that, and worried what might happen if Fenris realized a spirit was looking in on him after chasing a demon. “Hopefully he’s just in his room sulking.”

Just as he spoke, there was a rush of wind through the room and suddenly the soft twinkling lights of the spirits were swirling around Pin in agitation. Her smile dropped as she glanced around at them, then looked up at Callus. “They say he’s in the infirmary. He’s hurt - and so are Invictus and Healer Hal. They say Hal is badly hurt.” She gestured with her hand and the twinkling lights disappeared. “ _Venhedis_. We should go to them. Something’s happened - something bad.”

“Can’t one day go by without anyone being in trouble around here?” Cal muttered as he sat his glass aside and led Pin down the hall.

“As you said - the Veil seems to be thin around here. There’s something about Skyhold - there are so many spirits here, I’ve never seen so many attracted to one place before,” answered Pin as they hurried down the stairs and headed towards the infirmary. “Maybe it’s because there are so many mages here, or maybe it’s because so many died in the siege - Anders told me a force of Venatori attacked during the war and they had to kill a lot of them with magic. You can’t have something like that happen and not disturb the Fade,” she added, panting as they hurried on.

“I thought things were bad in Tevinter with magic and shit.” Cal said as he ran ahead to get the Infirmary door.

“Where is Ambassador Hawke?” he asked of the first person they came across.

Sister Rebecca looked up from the desk where she’d been writing an entry in the infirmary log book and glanced at him, startled for a moment before she recognised Callus. She rose with a reassuring smile. “Young master Callus, isn’t it? No need to worry; your father is going to be alright. If you’ll just follow me - we’ve put Ambassador Hawke, First Enchanter Invictus and Master Healer Hal in a private side ward.” 

“What happened to them and why didn’t anyone get us?” Cal asked as they were led to a closed off room where Fenris seemed to be asleep, as were Hal and Invictus. He approached Fenris softly, a frown on his face as he observed the older elf. “What were his injuries?” he asked of Rebecca.

“A broken arm, though Healer Hal appears to have mostly healed it. Bruises, contusions - a touch of concussion, various scrapes. But on the whole superficial injuries, really.” She smiled reassuringly at Callus and Pin. “It was the First Enchanter and the Healer who were the worst injured. The First Enchanter has a broken ankle, two fractured ribs and some nasty cuts down his right arm and leg that needed some stitches. And Hal has a very nasty head wound - Parcival had to put him into a deep sleep whilst he worked on him, and it was touch and go for a while - but he should recover in time, with lots of rest.” 

“How did they get back here if everyone was injured that badly?” Cal asked as he glanced at his father, then the others before he turned back to Rebecca.

“Your father - once his arm was taken care of - was able to teleport them all directly here to the infirmary, and Parcival was immediately on hand to begin healing them,” she smiled. “I think he’s just sleeping off the exhaustion of bringing two people when he teleported - I understand it takes more effort? He’ll be fine once he’s had a nap.”

“Teleported? What ...no, never mind I don’t want to know. If you don’t mind, we’d like to sit with him for a bit, Healer Rebecca.” Cal somehow kept the skepticism from his voice but he thought the woman was having him on. 

“But of course,” she nodded. “I’ll be at the desk if you need me.” She beamed at him in a friendly manner, then withdrew. 

“Dumat the wild tales I hear around here, teleportation and Ellowynne’s wild stories about him turning to a dragon. Next I expect someone to tell me Andraste stops by for tea every third Tuesday.” Cal said as he pulled a chair up. 

Pin darted him a sharp glance. “He _can_ turn into a dragon,” she said. “I’ve seen him - well, he sprouted wings, at least. Something to do with Mythal and his lyrium that I didn’t really understand; I was just freaked out that he’d popped these big leathery, silver-white wings out of his back and... well. I believe the dragon part,” she finished with a shrug.

“Wings? Pin don’t tease like that, I am not able to take anything else weird today.” Cal said then caught himself before he really yelled.

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away, biting her lip and blinking hard. Callus recognised the stance - he’d seen her do it often when she knew she wasn’t believed. Usually a whipping followed after at their master’s hands; Xerxeus would never raise a hand against either of them again but some habits died hard it seemed, and Pin couldn’t help the automatic reaction. Her brother realised that she must be telling the truth, strange as it may seem.

“Hey, come here.” Cal called, worried for his sister.

She glanced back at him, fear and worry in her eyes. After a moment, she walked slowly over to him. “I’m telling the truth, Cal, I really am,” she protested.

“I know Pin, I can see that now. It’s ok.” Cal gently pulled her into his arms and held her. “I’m sorry, this is all so weird.” 

“It’s weirder living with it, trust me.” Fenris muttered as he gave up pretending to sleep as they remained near his bed. 

Pin jumped with a small gasp, though she recovered quickly. “Fa-Fenris? You - you’re awake... how do you feel? What happened?”

Fenris rubbed a hand over his face, irritated at the light stubble he felt before he looked to them. “I went off to be alone, Vi--Invictus and Hal followed...and I think they assumed I was going to do a foolish thing and jump. We all went down the hillside. I’m sore, I’m...how I feel doesn’t matter right now. I owe you and Anders an apology for my idiocy.” 

“You just wanted that thing to leave you alone father, I think Anders realized that now. As do you, right Pin?” Callus said as he nudged her towards Fenris.

She took a hesitant step towards her father. “I know you were only trying to deal with the demon once and for all,” she said quietly. “You... you just didn’t realise what you were asking.”

“I’m still ashamed of asking that of you both, I hope...it didn’t undo what little trust I might have earned with you Pin.” Fenris looked down at the cover, not wanting to see her anger or worse betrayal as she approached.

“It... it doesn’t matter, because I didn’t use blood magic - I didn’t even call it up. There was no point without you there - only the Inquisitor and the First Enchanter were in any fit state to fight it, beside Cal. And...” She trailed off and glanced to Callus as though for reassurance for a moment, biting her lip, before she looked back to Fenris. “It’s... the spirits tell me it... it’s possessed someone. It reached through the Veil and found someone weak enough to let it in but - I don’t know who.” She regarded him fearfully, afraid of his possible reaction to the news.

Fenris’ head snapped up and he stared at her. “It...has gotten someone?” he said with a glance to Hal then to Invictus. “Would I know if it possessed me? No, it would have already done something if it had me...Vic? No, he’s stronger than that. Hal ...he’s still unconscious.” 

“I’d think if it had managed to possess someone that close to you, it would have acted by now father.” Callus added in.

“Not if it claimed Hal,” Pin disagreed, shaking her head. “He has a head wound, remember? And Parcival said he’d put Hal under, into an enchanted sleep. If he’s possessed, the demon can’t do anything, not with his host so deeply unconscious.” She glanced at Fenris. “Parcival said he’s healed but resting. It’s far more likely that he’s the one possessed - what are we going to do? He’s helpless right now, but....”   
“No...I can’t, I can’t have this. Not him, he’s been through so much.” Fenris clutched at the bedding as he stared at Hal, fearful for the young man. “Tell me we’re wrong, get someone to check him out before ...before we have to do something.” 

“No one is leaving you alone here, not with a possibly possessed mage. I’ll send for the Commander.” Callus said as he motioned for Pin to remain at Fenris’ side. She cast Callus a worried look, but turned back to their father.

“I’ll be right back, just stay with him.” Callus hurried out and left the two alone. 

“Pin…I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I brought you here to this madness...I’m sorry…” Fenris said as he gripped the covers and kept staring at Hal. 

She shrugged and gave a strange little laugh. “Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “Demons, possessions, undead magisters - it all seems rather familiar. Though elves that can turn into dragons are something new to me,” she added with a faint, lopsided grin before she dropped her gaze to her hands which were clasped tightly in front of herself, bright blue eyes lowered.

“I know...you said earlier you weren’t at a point to see me get emotional. Once Callus returns, you should leave with him if you still are unready for that. I’m, not alright.” Fenris pulled himself back against the headboard, arms around his knees as he stared at the unconscious red-head. 

She lifted her head to reply, but before she could speak the door was opened and Cullen strode in with Callus; beyond the door they could see six templars waiting.

And then it descended into a nightmare. Too late to flee, Pin and Callus were forced to stand aside and watch as Fenris went wild, begging and pleading with Cullen not to do this, even as the templars entered the room and began to chain the hands and ankles of the unconscious mage. No matter what Fenris said, Cullen remained unmoved.

It was when they put the heavy iron collar about Hal’s slender throat that Fenris went wild, and to their horror Pin and Callus were forced to hold their father down with the assistance of Cullen as the templars bore the still-unconscious young man out of the infirmary room and headed towards the dungeon.

The racket, the screaming and shouting, had aroused Invictus; groggy and disorientated, he finally awoke just as the templars were carrying Hal out and Fenris collapsed, weeping and shuddering as Pin and Callus desperately tried to console him, Cullen retreating with an apologetic but firm stare towards Fenris.

“I am deeply sorry, Fenris,” said Cullen from the doorway as Invictus sat up slowly. “But it’s for the best. We can’t take any chances - trust me, I’ve... I’ve had to deal with possessed mages far too often.” Cullen’s expression was full of remembered pain and weariness. With a heavy heart, he turned and left, closing the door very quietly behind himself. 

“What happened? Where’s Hal?” Vic said as he sat up and clamped down a whimper of pain as he felt his injuries flare up.

“Hal...he’s gone...they took him. They took him away.” Fenris wailed. Pin glanced at Invictus with a sorrowful look, her arms wrapped around her father as he clung desperately to her, weeping bitterly.

“It was the demon,” she said miserably. “It’s possessed Hal, and Cullen has had him taken away in chains to be locked up in the dungeon.”

Invictus wished desperately he could go to Fenris but the pain that shot up his leg kept him in place. “Venhedis, we need to get Anders and Dorian, I can’t do anything with a snapped ankle.”

“I’ll get them… Pin can you...never mind just stay with them, I’ll be back.” Callus gave a sad look to Pin as she tried to get Fenris to calm just a bit. She nodded to her brother.

“You go fetch Master Anders - I’ll stay here with Father,” she replied. “Go quickly.”

Callus’s eyes widened at her saying father, but it wasn’t the time to discuss it. Instead he gave her a dip of his head before he raced to Anders’ rooms and barely caught himself before he barged in and found how deadly Zevran was. 

As he entered, he found Zevran fussing over Anders, who was slumped in a chair looking pale and exhausted, his eyes closed, waving away a cup of wine that Zevran was trying unsuccessfully to persuade him to drink.

“Come, my love, it will revive you, no? You are too pale, it is worrisome, hmm? Please , just a sip -” Zevran broke off as he heard the door open and whirled around, a blade appearing in his hand as he cast the cup aside. “Who - ah. Callus. It is wiser to knock, hmm?” He straightened slowly, sheathing his blade as he shook his head at the youth.

Anders opened his eyes tiredly and glanced at Callus. “What’s the matter?” he murmured.

“I’m afraid you won’t like the news I bring, except that Invictus, apologies First Enchanter Hawke is awake. The rest is ...terrible.” Callus said as he dropped his hand from the hilt of his own weapon.

Anders straightened in his chair and gestured for Callus to come closer as he reached for his staff and used it to lever himself to his feet, the effort obviously taxing his energy. “Dare I ask?” he asked heavily. 

The younger elf stood before Anders and explained all that had happened, ending on Fenris broken and sobbing for Hal in Pin’s arms before he was asked to get him. “I am afraid of what I will find when we return.”

Anders had closed his eyes as Callus had described how the templars had chained the unconscious Hal; at mention of the collar, he screwed his eyes tight and shuddered, his breathing becoming ragged. As Callus went on to tell of Fenris’ reaction, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead to his staff as he clutched it in both hands, and a low sob escaped his lips as his shoulders began to shake.

Zevran had his arms around Anders in an instant, murmuring softly to Anders as the mage shook his head. After a few more minutes in which the only sounds were Anders’ hoarse, ragged breathing that hitched every so often and the quiet murmur of Zevran trying to console him, Anders finally raised his head to glance at Callus, his eyes red and raw, a look of deep hurt and remembered pain in their amber depths.

“Lead us to Fenris,” he managed hoarsely.

“My love, you are not well -” Zevran protested gently, but Anders shrugged him off.

“No. Fenris needs me - needs _us_. My needs don’t matter; I must go to him. Lead us, Callus.” Anders gestured to the elven youth as Zevran gave a resigned sigh and nodded to Callus as he slung an supportive arm around Anders’ waist.

“I apologize Grand Enchanter, I wished I’d brought better news.” Callus said as he led them back to the infirmary, and the sounds that came from the room broke his heart. “Dumat, he’s still at it.”

Anders flinched at the sounds, and even Zevran paused before the door, closing his eyes briefly as a pained look crossed his face.

Then they went in.

Vic looked up and gave them all a relieved smile. “Thank Andraste you’re here. He’s… inconsolable.”

Pin had her arms full, Fenris wrapped around her and sobbing bitterly, his voice sounding hoarse from screaming. She looked up at Anders and Callus with a desperate look.

Anders pulled away from Zevran and made his way over to the bed and sank down onto the edge near Pin and Fenris, then reached for Fenris’ hand. “I’m here love,” he said gently. “I’m here. I understand. Oh Fenris. Poor Hal.” Tears were running down his own face, unheeded.

Zevran stepped inside and leaned against the wall, regarding Fenris with a sorrowful look. “Ah, my _carissimi_ ,” he murmured. “My heart aches for you both.”

He glanced up as a messenger tentatively knocked on the door then held out a report. Zevran frowned, then sighed as he accepted the scroll and dismissed the runner. He held the report in his hand but glanced back to Fenris and gave a low sigh.

“My heart… is ripped in two. Why Hal, Why?” Fenris begged.

“I wish I knew love,” murmured Anders as he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the elf until Fenris was embraced upon one side by his daughter and upon the other by the mage as Anders pressed a soft kiss to Fenris’ temple. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“No, please take me … not him, he’s had so much go wrong. Please let me see him, let me…” Fenris sobbed brokenly, uncaring who saw him. Anders glanced up at Invictus hopelessly. 

“Are they likely to let us pass to see him?” He glanced to Zevran. “Love?”

Zevran straightened and shrugged. “I do not know. How did they usually deal with such matters in the Circle?”

“It was templars,” interjected Pin. “Six templars came with Cullen.”

“Templars?” exclaimed Anders. He stared at her and then he seemed to collapse beside Fenris with an anguished cry. “No. _No!_ This is not the Circle, they - they _can’t_! Oh Maker, Maker _why?_ ”

“I don’t know… I’ll do whatever they tell me so I can see him, please Anders.” Fenris pleaded.

“You don’t understand,” Anders whispered brokenly. “What they do to possessed mages... I can’t... they....” He bowed his head. “Andraste forgive me. Forgive him. Please. They can’t do this.”

“They can’t kill him! No, I’d rather one of you put a sword to me yourself.” Fenris was hysterical as he held onto Pin.

“No!” cried Pin. “Please, Father, please! There must be _something_ we can do!” She stared at Anders, then Invictus, before glancing to Callus and then Zevran, who was tapping the scroll thoughtfully against his chin.

There was a knock upon the door and Zevran scowled, then opened it as the knock was repeated, more insistently.

“Your pardon, Spymaster, but the Inquisitor wishes your response to the report immediately and says it cannot wait.”

Zevran muttered a curse in Antivan, but then frowned as a hopeful look came over Pin’s face as she stared at him. “You have some thought or idea, Pin?” he asked slowly.

“The Inquisitor! He has the ultimate power here. He can stop this! He can order them not to execute Hal!” she cried.

Anders lifted his head slowly. “Sweet Andraste... she’s right. She’s right! We have to speak to Meneris!” 

“I’ll do whatever he says, please Anders.” Fenris begged as he struggled to his feet and held on to Pin’s hand. “Please.”

“If you can help me with my ankle love, I can help you.” Vic gritted his teeth as he barely kept himself from screeching.

Anders glanced over and frowned slightly, then nodded as he disengaged himself from Fenris then made his way over to Invictus’ bed. “I’m sorry, love - let me see it; what’s wrong? And what happened to you three anyway?” He sat down wearily on the edge of Invictus’ bed, cool healing energies pooling in his hands already before he laid them upon Invictus’ leg, closing his eyes as he reached out with his healer’s senses to feel what was wrong.

Pin glanced at him, then closed her eyes and whispered something under her breath. Fenris could feel a subtle ripple along his lyrium as she drew upon her own magic. It was quite unlike anything he’d ever felt before around a mage; a moment later he thought he could hear soft whispers as a light breeze stirred their hair. He caught a faint scent of some flower he almost thought he recognised.

“You’re...very strong Pin, we’re lucky you’re with us.” Fenris said quietly.

“She’s calling all the healing spirits to aid me,” said Anders in a tone of distraction, his eyes still closed as he worked healing upon Invictus’ ankle and ribs. “It makes this so much easier with their aid.”

Pin opened her eyes and smiled shyly.

“You… said father earlier, thank you.” Fenris said softly. She blinked, then blushed as she ducked her head, not knowing what to say.

Anders merely smiled, his eyes still closed, as he directed the healing magic and the assistance of the healing spirits to heal Invictus’ ribs then to seek out every bruise and contusion, healing everything until the former Champion was whole and unhurt and felt invigorated and energised.

Anders himself, unusually, was also revitalised as he opened his eyes; they were clear, the lines of worry upon his face smoothed for the moment as he sat straighter then glanced back to Fenris as the healing spirits whirled around the room slowly. He could sense them clustering about Pin as she sat there, head bowed and blushing, and she slowly lifted her head, unable to keep back a small smile. The spirits flew around the room one last time, touching each person with a burst of restoring and invigorating energy before they dispersed.

“May we go see Hal now?” Fenris asked quietly.

“Do you want me to go love? Or I can fetch Meneris for you.” Vic asked as he flexed his ankle, relieved at being whole once more. Anders glanced to Invictus.

“Perhaps we should go down to the dungeons to check on Hal and you bring Meneris there?” he suggested. “He may find it harder to deny our request when he sees what has been done to him.” A grim expression had settled over his face.

“You’ve seen this happen before,” said Pin quietly. “You know what we’re going to see.”

“And what they will do to him if Meneris does not halt it,” Anders nodded grimly. “I saw it far too often in the Circle.”

“What we’ve seen in Minrathous is nothing Pin.” Fenris said tiredly as he wiped his face. “The only way this could be worse if it were Invictus.”

Anders glanced to Invictus then reached out and laced his fingers with those of his husband. “Not a chance,” he murmured. “You’re too strong. You’d never give in to a demon. And you’ve always stood strong, love. I think it would kill me if it were otherwise. I’d sooner face the headsman’s axe myself than see you fall; I thank Andraste for your strength and fortitude.”

“I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than let that happen loves. I’ll get Meneris, you two see to Hal.” Vic kissed him gently then got to his feet with a hiss. “Maker… still a bit wobbly.”

“It’ll pass, love - faster than you may think,” remarked Anders as he got to his feet then reached for his staff. He glanced to Zevran. “Are you coming with us or going with Vic, love?”

“To the Inquisitor I think,” replied Zevran. “I have been summoned, no? Come, Vic - let us go persuade Meneris to be merciful, hmm?”

“Yes, and we’ll meet you back in Fenris’ rooms?” Vic asked.

Anders pondered a moment. “Check Fenris’ rooms; if we’re not there, then get down to the dungeons as fast as you can.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with a worried, pained expression. “It depends what we find down there. They may have -” He broke off and swallowed hard. “No, I... I can’t say. But...” He glanced up at Invictus. “If we’re not in Fenris’ rooms, then we’ll be trying to stop something -” He bit his lip; he had been steadily turning paler as a haunted look came over his face, and with a start Invictus suddenly realised the experience was bringing his memories of his worst times in the Tower all flooding back. Anders stood with them here - but a part of him was trapped in a small stone cell, forgotten and tortured, somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Just hurry,” Anders finally said.

“Of course love, good luck to you both.” Vic went off with Zevran, his expression grim as they chatted low and fast about what to do for Hal and Fenris.

As they left, Fenris had finally let Pin go so he could put his armor on, strap his weapon back on and then took her hand again as if he needed it to accept what was happening. “I’m ready.” 

“Do you wish me to go as well, father?” Callus asked.

“Please come too, Callus,” answered Anders, and Pin shot him a grateful look which turned to alarm as he continued. “We may need your sword arm as well as that of your father. None of you know what we will find down there, but I do. And we may need to use force against templars down there. They will try to SIlence me; they may use Smite against me. I can stand against it but it will drain and hurt me. We cannot count upon my spells.”

Pin clung to her father’s hand as she stared at her teacher.

“Come,” said Anders, and he led the way out of the infirmary and down towards the dungeons.

They passed several guards who made to bar their way until they saw it was the Grand Enchanter, second only to the Inquisitor and the Divine both, and they stood aside without question.

It was as they approached the farthest set of cells - the ones with runes to nullify magic, all guarded by templars, that they heard it - Hal screaming and begging to be let free. As they drew closer, they could make out his words.

“Oh Andraste please, _please_ \- you can’t do this to me, I’ve done nothing wrong! Please - these chains, they burn - Maker, _please_ , have mercy, I swear whatever it was, I won’t do it again!”

“Hal? What have they done to him?” Fenris said as he hurried ahead of them and found templars in his way. “Get out of my way, or you will not like what happens.” He snarled.

“You cannot pass, messere,” answered one of the templars. “The mage is possessed; for the sake of your very souls, we cannot let you pass.”

“You can and you will,” replied Anders as he stalked forward, his voice like ice and his eyes flashing angrily.

“Grand Enchanter?” exclaimed the other templar. “Ser, surely you of all people must understand the danger -”

“I understand it far greater than _you_ ,” replied Anders coldly. “Step aside, or I’ll have you all up on latrine duty tomorrow. And if I find one hair upon Hal’s head has been harmed, I’ll have the bloody Commander himself down there digging shit with the rest of you.” He leaned closer; with his height, he towered over the nervous templars. “Do. I. Make. Myself. _Clear??_ ” he hissed. Fenris felt a shiver run down his spine as he recognised the tone of command that Anders used - the one that had had such a devastating effect upon Fenris himself.

The templars looked at each other then stepped aside as Anders swept past, his long black robe billowing out behind him as he stalked towards the cell where Hal still screamed, wept and begged for mercy, his voice hoarse and ragged.

Fenris followed behind, eyes down as he tried to get a grip and not...respond in the worst way to that voice. Any inappropriate thoughts fled as he saw Hal for himself. “Hal….what did they do to you, amor?” He whispered as he fell to his knees before the young mage.

“Did he just call Hal, amor?” Callus asked in surprise.

“Hush,” whispered Pin as she stared in horror at Hal.

The young mage had been stripped naked, and there were whip cuts and wheals across his body and down his legs. His wrists, ankles and throat were chafed raw and bleeding by the iron manacles and collar. Hal strained at the ends of his chains desperately towards the barred door.

“Please - please, you have to tell them to let me go, I’m innocent, I swear!” begged Hal. “Don’t let them hurt me again... the iron, it hurts, don’t let them touch me again - I promise, I’ll do anything - anything you want, just please let me go!”

“Open the door,” commanded Anders, still in that tone of authority.

Pin still held Fenris’ hand, and he felt it as a shiver ran through her body; the stare she turned on Anders was wide-eyed.

“Ser, we can’t do that - Commander Cullen’s orders -” began a templar.

“I outrank Cullen,” snapped Anders. “Open the door before I am forced to do so myself. And I warn you that if I am forced to do that, you’ll be wishing to face what you’ve done to Hal rather than face what _I_ shall do to you.” He turned his head to glare at the templar who had spoken, and his eyes flared golden.

There was brief conferring amongst the guards and then a ring of keys was produced. Anders snatched them from the man then turned to unlock the door before he swept into the cell.

Hal fell to his knees, weeping in abject relief as Anders bent to unlock the manacles and collar. He swore furiously.

“Magebane! The bastards smeared magebane over the inside of the manacles!” he exclaimed loudly.

Behind them, Pin, Fenris and Callus heard a jumbled clanking as all the templars nervously moved back and away from the cell.

Fenris whimpered as he heard Anders’ rage at what had been done to Hal. He started to worry that he’d erred, what if he’d been wrong and betrayed the young man. He felt Pin squeeze his hand but he couldn’t help the fear that was creeping into his heart as he overheard them.

Anders had released Hal from the manacles and collar, hurling the hated object into the far corner with a vitriolic curse in his own mother tongue. He slipped off his loose over-robe and slipped it onto the naked and bleeding young man who was now babbling almost incoherent thanks as Anders bent over him.

Anders took Hal’s chin gently yet firmly in his hand and forced the young man to look him in the eyes. Hal regarded him wordlessly, and there was silence for a moment. Then a look of thunder crept over Anders’ face, and Fenris felt Pin begin to tremble.

Anders swept Hal up into his arms and stalked out of the cell.

“Possessed? _Possessed??_ ” He stalked towards the unnerved templars. “Dolts! Idiots! Imbeciles! Is there not a man amongst you with the wit to recognise a man untainted by demons when you see one? Did not a single one of you think to consult one of the senior mages who could have told you, as _I_ tell you now, that _this man is not possessed??_ ”

He stalked towards the templars who were nervously shuffling backwards; Anders’ fury was in full flow now, and suddenly a few templars at the back broke and ran before the rest decided that seemed the prudent option and followed suit.

Anders turned, a fainting Hal in his arms, and stared at the others. “I will have Cullen’s head for this,” he growled. “Come on.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, what have we here?

He stumbled on. He had no idea how long he’d been walking. He’d walked forever, it seemed. No matter. The voice drove him on. 

There was only the voice, and the song. The song was maddening. He couldn’t ignore it. He woke up humming it. When he dreamed, it followed him into dreams.

He wasn’t humming now. There was a woman. She was shouting something at him, but the words were unintelligible. There was fruit piled up. He wasn’t aware of hunger, but something at the instinctive level told him he should eat. He grabbed handfuls and stumbled on as she shrieked and screamed at him.

It was all noise to him. He bit into an apple. It was sweet. Had he eaten sweetness such as this before? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

Hands catching at his sleeve - what remained of it. Rags. He pulled away and the remains of the black sleeve tore free in their hands.

More hands. Irritating. Annoying.

The rippling in his veins. Sparkling, bright, power flowing into his hands. He threw his hand out towards those who tugged at him and the shouting turned into screams.

They let him go. Enough.

Up, up; he had to go up. _He_ was up ahead somewhere. His lip curled in a snarl; vengeance. Vengeance, he would live for it. It was all he had.

The path. He would follow the path. The place that sang to him. And then the mountains. The place of stone.

He brushed dirty white hair out of his face, took bites of the stolen apple and pressed on. The place where it started; that was where he would start.

Then. Onwards. One name in his mind; he didn’t question how he knew it, only that there was where he would find _him_. And then peace.

Skyhold.

***

“I will have Cullen’s head for this,” Anders growled. “Come on.” He turned away, Hal cradled protectively in his arms.

“Yes… Grand Enchanter.” Fenris said meekly, terrified of what would happen when Anders turned his anger on him. He hurried after the blond mage, hand clenched tight with Pin’s as Callus fell in behind them, confused as the Void over what had happened. Pin ran along beside him, her eyes wide and as frightened as he, even as Callus stared at them worriedly then darted nervous glances at the Grand Enchanter’s back. 

He’d never seen the Grand Enchanter like this. The man was terrifying in his wrath. Callus couldn’t imagine any templar - not even Cullen himself - being able to withstand that fury. He resolved to never, _ever_ get on the wrong side of Anders. He could never have dreamed this side of the usually gentle, tender blond mage could even exist. He’d seen the man playing with his daughter, doting fondly on her; he’d seen him healing - he’d seen him dying on his deathbed.

And now he saw a man who surely could have faced down the very gods themselves. It was... terrifying.

Anders led them to Fenris’ rooms and laid Hal upon the bed, sitting upon the edge as he called up healing magic into his hands and then, without a further word, set to healing the unconscious young man.

Pin darted a glance at her father and then Callus, then gently disengaged her hand from Fenris’ grasp to gently call up the healing spirits to aid Anders once more.

Fenris pulled back and sat in a nearby chair. He thought of getting a drink but realized he was shaking still. “Ca...Callus, do you mind pouring a little wine? I’m a bit too shaken right now.” 

“Of course _pater_ ,” was the younger elf’s reply as he gave them each a half-glass and settled in next to Fenris to watch, and wait. Pin had dropped to the floor at her father’s feet, curling around and hugging his leg as she stared at Anders with those big wide eyes.

Anders was oblivious to everything, his eyes closed and his mind lost in healing Hal, even as the young mage’s blood soaked slowly into the clean white linen of Fenris’ bed. “Magebane,” he muttered, half to himself. “Magebane in the cuts... resisting me.” He was oblivious to Pin’s quiet gasp of horror, to the way her breath hitched.

Fenris reached down to touch Pin’s shoulder just to reassure himself they were there, that Hal was going to be ok and to cling to the hope that Anders wouldn’t murder him once he was done with the red head.

“He’ll be fine, Anders is a master healer,” Callus said as he watched the blond mage, soon falling silent as he worked.

Anders’ head had steadily lowered until he was bowed over Hal’s still form, pouring all his heart and mana into the healing, the magebane resisting his magic and draining it away it seemed almost as fast as he could pour it into Hal’s bleeding and broken body, the skin knitting slowly as he worked to heal the damage - bruising and bleeding inside, concussion ( _memories of booted feet hitting the small of his back, glancing off his unprotected head; a gauntleted fist to his stomach_ ), wrenched joints; every injury bringing back remembrance of how much damage the templars could do to an unarmed man in such a short space of time. The colour of his mana shifted from blue to white then shone with a golden shimmer interleaved with the silvery white as his breathing slowed, growing ragged.

The door suddenly burst open and Zevran and Invictus dashed in, Meneris and Cullen but a pace behind. 

Anders lifted his head slowly, exhausted and drained, and his eyes focused on Cullen.

“I’ll kill you,” he said softly as he rose to his feet. 

He took two steps towards the apprehensive Commander before gracefully collapsing unconscious to the floor, his energy and mana all expended in the fight to save Hal and heal his broken body.

Fenris was on his feet as Anders started to crumple but he managed to slide to his knees just as Anders landed. “Mythal...can today get any worse?” 

“I take it Hal was not possessed?” Vic said as he came to his spouse’s side.

“He wasn’t! Master Anders just looked in his eyes and _knew!_ ” exclaimed Pin as she jumped up, before she threw herself down at Anders’ side and reached a trembling hand to touch his cheek as Fenris lifted Anders in his arms.

Fenris gently cradled Anders in his arms; he looked down into Anders’ pale face and sighed before he turned to face Cullen. “Commander...I suggest you leave before he wakes up.”

“Normally I’d disagree and say Cullen should face what he’s done, but knowing the way Anders can go off the charts, I’m going to ask you to leave as well,” Vic said.

“No, no-one is going anywhere until someone explains what has happened in the last few hours since the valley,” Meneris said.

“You didn’t see what he did to the templars,” said Pin in an awed voice. She turned and glared at Cullen. “You’ll be shovelling shit in the latrine pits when he wakes up,” she said with an edge of dark, vitriolic glee. “I’d run away if I were you - _templar!_ ” she spat at him then turned and gently ran her fingers through Anders’ hair as he stirred slightly with a faint sigh.

“ _Pin, what do you think you are doing?_?” Fenris asked when he saw how she had doted on Anders as he lay still.

“ _He pushed himself so hard,_ ” she murmured softly. “ _He exhausts himself too much for others. I worry for him. He nearly died and I was so scared, yet still he pushed himself when he’s still not fully recovered._ ” She glanced up at her father. “ _You must worry for him so much. I don’t want to lose my teacher. But he is your husband._ ” 

“ _Yes, he is._ ” Fenris said before he glanced to Invictus. “Can you get us something to eat please, then I’m going to go fall on my face on the first flat surface I see.” 

“Not until someone tells me what in the Void is going on! Hal’s possessed, then he’s not, you’re snarling at Cullen to go. There’s a wild man spotted near Skyhold and Vulpine is acting strangely,” Meneris said as he looked to everyone for an answer of some kind.

Anders stirred and opened his eyes, turning his head until his eyes focused on Meneris with difficulty.

“Hal was never possessed,” he sighed softly, his voice weak; Meneris found himself drawing closer to hear him. “Not a damned one of Cullen’s bastard templars bothered to ask any senior mage to check. One look and I knew he wasn’t possessed. They tortured Hal for nothing. Look at him. Look at the scars, and know that is nothing - _nothing_ to what I have healed in him now.” His voice was slowly strengthening as he struggled to get upright; Fenris carefully set his feet to the floor then held Anders up as the blond mage swayed, dizzy and weak, yet held Meneris’ gaze by sheer force of will. “Cast those bastards out. They would torture a young man to death for sheer amusement at the allegation of possession. Not a man jack of them has ever seen true possession but they’ve tortured plenty of mages needlessly on hearsay. No, he was never possessed - and Cullen is guilty for every stripe a whip laid upon Hal’s skin this day.” 

His eyes bore into Meneris. “Make him look. Make him see what even now, he is blind to. My scars were never enough; but damn me if I’ll let him turn away from those of this innocent man whom he would have seen beheaded without even a trial!”

Cullen was staring at Anders aghast, all the blood drained from his face.

“Get your Commander gone before I finish what Anders started, Meneris. We will speak later, once he’s rested,” Fenris said angrily as he wrapped his arms around Anders as if to protect him.

“As you wish, Fenris; come, Cullen, let’s leave them be and we can adjourn tomorrow, or the day after. Apologies to all of you.” Meneris tugged at Cullen to go, eager to be away from them. 

Anders had sagged in Fenris’ arms, his eyes rolling back - even that small effort too much.

Cullen was staring at Anders, a strange, distracted look in his eyes. He shook his head slowly. “No, Inquisitor,” he said slowly. “Anders is right. I should see what... my men, these... these templars have done in my name. I... I owe Anders that much.” He stepped closer to Anders, who was sprawled limply in Fenris’ arms, his eyes closed.

“Then hurry up so you can go,” Fenris snarled, his eyes darkened as his teeth seemed to be a little longer and sharper. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Cullen nodded slowly and stepped up to the side of the bed. He studied Hal carefully then reached out and rolled Hal carefully onto his side.

“Inquisitor,” he said quietly. “You should see this.”

Meneris moved unwillingly to Cullen’s side, darting a glance at Fenris as he held Anders close and glared at the other elf, then he turned his attention to the unconscious Hal. “What am I looking at?” he asked, then followed the gesture of Cullen’s finger and stared at Hal’s back. After a moment he saw it: the crisscrossing lines and raised red flesh of whip scars across Hal’s back and down his thighs, the bruising at shoulders, elbows, wrists, small of his back. 

Cullen gently lowered Hal until the young man lay unconscious, flat upon the bed. Cullen lifted one arm and showed Meneris the scarring around Hal’s wrist from the magebane-smeared manacles, then gently tilted Hal’s head backwards to show the extensive scarring around the unconscious youth’s throat from the collar.

“This... this falls at my door, Inquisitor,” said Cullen heavily. “I placed Hal into their hands, believing he was possessed. I... was wrong. I believe in Anders’ judgement implicitly. If he says Hal is not possessed then he is not. I can only assume that I was operating on false information - but I will not shirk the blame for the abuse that Hal has been subjected to.” He sighed and bowed his head. “Anders is right. This has happened too much. To Anders, to too many Circle mages. This... should not have happened here.” 

“Then make it right, work with Anders to make it happen. I trust you two to work this out and not have it happen again Commander,” Meneris said quietly.

“Now I’ll trust you all to get out of here and let us try to salvage what is left of today,” Invictus said frostily.

Zevran glanced at Meneris. “I shall come to you in an hour or so to discuss this stranger,” he said quietly. “A wild man who has come this close to Skyhold and none know his identity? It... sits uneasily with me.” He frowned.

Pin turned to Fenris. “Father - we need to get him into bed,” she said quietly. “He has exhausted himself and needs to rest.” She stared at him pleadingly. “Let me help?”

“That will be fine Pin, I probably could use the help.” Fenris said as he struggled to get Anders up and towards the bed. She helped her father to lift the unconscious Anders up and lay him in the ample wide bed next to Hal, who lay unconscious, his face white and bloodless.

“Forgive me, both of you.” Fenris said as he caressed Hal’s face then leaned in to kiss Anders on the forehead before he withdrew and slumped into a chair with a low sob.

Hal lay like one dead, but at Fenris’ touch Anders stirred slightly with a low groan, turning towards Fenris with his eyes closed. A tear slipped free from beneath his eyelids and slowly rolled down the side of his face; Fenris found his gaze transfixed upon it as he stared down at Anders.

“Father?” murmured Pin, then louder, “Father!” As Fenris wrenched his gaze from Anders’ unconscious face, she regarded him worriedly as she held out a glass of brandy.

“Father... we need you,” she said quietly. “Please... don’t fall away from us. Hal and Anders both live. Please... we - _I_... need you too.” She stared at him anxiously. 

He regarded her for a long time before he took the glass with rough thanks. “You called me father again Pin.” 

She glanced away, rubbing her arm self-consciously, as she bit her lip. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she said softly before darting him a wry smile.

Fenris dipped his head slightly. “Of course not, I will not take more than you offer Pin, I apologize.” He took his seat again near Anders and Hal with his drink in hand, occasionally sipping as he waited on food to arrive.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “I was teasing you,” she said unexpectedly. “Though, not about calling you ‘Father’,” she added hastily as his head jerked up with a hurt expression that only slowly subsided. “Maker,” she exhaled. “What a pair we make.” She glanced at Callus. “Go on, say it,” she shrugged.

“I’ve nothing to say Pin, this is one time I’ll not tease you for it. I’m just glad you both realized how bullheaded you were being.” Callus took up a seat by Fenris and poured himself a couple of fingers of brandy. 

“I wasn’t -!” began Pin hotly, then subsided when Callus lifted an eyebrow at her. “Well. Alright, maybe I _was_ ,” she conceded. She glanced at Fenris. “Wonder where I get _that_ from,” she said drily.

“No idea, none at all,” Fenris replied just as drily.

“Hah,” said Pin, not looking at him, though she smirked.

“Maker help us now that you’ve gotten over you two got over yourselves,” Callus muttered.

Pin’s glance had landed on Anders, and her smile slipped; then she looked at Hal, and it fell away entirely. “Will he... will he recover?” she asked in a small voice. “What they did to him... that was so much worse than....” Her voice faltered. She felt a deep pang of guilt. It had been Fenris who had told Callus to fetch someone who could check if Hal had been possessed... but it had been she who suggested Hal might have been possessed in the first place. She had been wrong - so, so wrong; and Hal had paid the price.

“Yes, he’ll recover physically. I don’t know how he will fare emotionally,” Fenris replied.

“I know the physical wounds will heal,” she said softly. “Bodies are resilient things. The worst scars are always the ones inside though.” She glanced back to Callus then dropped her gaze. “Cal... is there any of that brandy left?” she asked quietly. 

“Yeah, sip it slowly Pin, slowly or it will burn on the way down,” Cal cautioned his sister as he passed her the tumbler.

She nodded and took the glass, then silently leaned against her brother for support, closing her eyes.

“Dumat...the last week has been a nightmare. Once we eat, you should get some rest and we should let them get some rest as well,” Callus said.

“Once we eat I’m going to go collapse on my face,” Fenris said as he tipped his glass up.

Pin glanced up at him. “Father, where will you sleep?” she asked, as she looked at Fenris’ bed with Anders and Hal both laid out unconscious upon it.

“Probably with Zevran, unless he has to go take care of what he was reported about a stranger. Otherwise I’ll be with Invictus, why?” Fenris asked quietly.

“Would you like me to sit with Master Anders and Hal until they awaken? Then I can make sure they both eat - or fetch help if Hal awakens in pain,” she suggested. She managed not to dart a glance at Anders as she mentioned him, though it took an effort of will.

Fenris frowned at her for a moment but let his mask slip back on. “If you wish Pin, thank you.”

She ducked her head so neither of them would see the blush that lightly stole over her face.

She was spared further words when Zevran opened the door and glanced around until his gaze fell on Anders and he swiftly entered the room, crossing to the side of the bed and leaning over Anders as he slept, his eyes studying the blond mage’s unconscious face before lifting to stare at Hal. He glanced back then towards Fenris.

“ _Carissimi_?” There was a whole conversation’s worth of questions in that one word and in the look in his eyes as he gazed over to Fenris.

“Aye, _carissimi_?” Fenris replied tiredly.

In an instant, Zevran was before Fenris, dropping to his knees as he reached for the elf’s hands. Dropping a kiss into each palm, he then lifted his golden gaze to meet Fenris’ tired emerald green. “Dear heart. What happened?”

Fenris laughed dark and low, as he held Zevran’s hands. “What hasn’t happened is more like it. May I come to your bed tonight my heart?”

“You do not have to ask, beloved,” replied Zevran. “My bed is yours, you know this. But - Hal, Anders? What has happened?” He glanced back at the still form of Anders, visibly fighting down his anxiety at having found Anders unconscious so soon after they had nearly lost him.

“I will explain once we are alone and resting Zevran. I would not traumatize them again with the retelling. Can we go now, please?” Fenris asked plaintively.

Zevran glanced back at Anders, his distress more obvious now until Pin stepped forward.

“It’s not the poison,” she said quietly. “He tired himself out healing. Nothing more than that.”

Zevran glanced up at her, and then his shoulders slumped in relief as he turned and pressed his forehead to Fenris’ hands with a muttered, fervent prayer of thankfulness in Antivan before he straightened then nodded to Fenris. “Come, _carissimi_ ,” he nodded. “Let us go to bed.”

“Please, I ...need you so much,” Fenris said shakily as he rose and let Zevran check on Anders first once more before they left. He felt fragile as he took the other elf’s hand in his.

“We’ll see you for breakfast father; take care of him, Zevran?” Callus said with a tip of his glass at them.

Zevran glanced to Pin. “Ellowynne is with the twins; I will have Marian bring her here after breakfast,” he said.

“Sure,” nodded Pin. “You go on; I’ll keep watch.”

Zevran gave her a nod then turned back to Fenris and guided him gently towards his own rooms up in the Rookery.

“Dumat, I thought Zevran was about to fall apart any minute with worry,” Pin sighed. “Because what he needs after watching Master Anders slowly dying was to find him laid out unconscious like this in a bed stained with blood.” She took her father’s vacated chair and sighed again before taking another cautious sip of her brandy.

“Father isn’t much better off, I … how he fell apart is going to haunt me for a while,” Callus said softly.

“You and me both,” said Pin softly. “Do you think he knew what they would do to Hal, I wonder?”

“I’m sure he did. He was hysterical, I didn’t think he was… capable of that kind of hysteria,” Callus said before he refilled his drink. “Not literally, I mean letting us see him like that.”

“Yes,” she replied slowly. Her gaze was upon Anders, thoughtful. “He was... upset to find Master Anders near death - but he wasn’t hysterical. But he’s not married to Hal. I... don’t understand. Is Hal his adoptive son?” She glanced up at Callus, worried. “Is that why he was so frantic?”

“I have no idea, I didn’t realize he was so attached to Enchanter Hal. There is clearly history we are not aware of there,” Callus replied.

Pin regarded the unconscious red-head pensively, a finger twirling a lock of her own red hair unconsciously. “I wonder how old he is? He looks young enough to be - what, half Master Anders’ age? No older than us; than maybe a few years?” Her gaze went back to Callus. 

“I’d say twenty-one, twenty-two at the most,” Callus guessed.

“Too young to be a lover, I’d guess,” she agreed. “Maker. No wonder he didn’t seem to know how to behave around us - he already _had_ a son, at least of his heart if not by blood.” She bit her thumbnail distractedly.

“I don’t think he feels that way about Hal, Pin… like a son I mean. That was too heartwrenching to feel that way about a son not of his own blood. Let’s let it be Pin, just let’s rest.” Callus said.

She turned and stared at him, aghast. “Not of his own blood? Cal, what in the Void does blood have to do with it? If Hal has been a son to him, do you seriously think the fact he didn’t sire him directly matters a fuck to him? He’s known us for less than a month and Hal for far longer! The way he screamed - that’s the way I’ve heard mothers scream for their children when a magister snatches them! That’s the way a father screams when he knows his child is destined for a blood sacrifice! _Venhedis_ , Cal, the only time blood comes into a relationship like that is when it’s been shed on the floor, not whether it flows in the same veins as father and child!” She glanced away from her brother. “If you’d spent more time around the other slave families, you’d have known that. I heard far too many whose children died at Xerxeus’ hands.” She shuddered and closed her eyes, then shook her head. “No. Fenris’ hysteria was that of a man who knows his son is about to die. And Anders’ wrath - he knew what those templars were going to do.”

“Alright, alright; I am not going to fight you on this, Pin. Let’s just try and relax until food arrives,” Cal said before he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a catnap.

He was awoken by a tap at the door some time later; glancing around, he saw that his sister had curled up asleep on the end of the bed near Anders’ feet as he slept.

Callus opened the door cautiously and peeked out. “Yes?” 

Sister Rebecca blinked at him. “Oh, hello, young master Callus! I’ve brought food.” She held out the tray with a smile.

“Ah, thank you, Sister... Rebecca, wasn’t it?” Callus replied as he let her in and moved to shake Pin awake. “Pin, food...you should eat.” 

Pin lifted her head drowsily. “Huh? Oh.” She sat up, rubbing her eyes slowly. 

“Oh sweet Maker - Grand Enchanter Anders!” exclaimed the Chantry Sister as she noticed Anders for the first time. “What is -” She broke off as she stared at the dried blood upon Hal’s skin, the unmistakable whip scars and the dark blood soaked into the bedding beneath the unconscious healer. “No. Oh Maker no. Not young Hal,” she whispered as Callus took the tray. 

“It looks worse than it is, Sister. Anders healed him and we didn’t get a chance to change the bedding. If you don’t mind, we’re going to take care of them. Can you send someone with fresh bedding and linens in a couple of hours?” Callus said as he set the food out for them.

There were tears in Sister Rebecca’s eyes as she moved closer towards the bed. She stared down at the scars and shook her head wordlessly. It was a moment or two before she was able to speak.

“No, it... it is _exactly_ as bad as it looks, I fear” she said drily. “I have been a healer long enough to know how bad injuries are at a glance, young man. It was templars, wasn’t it? The ones that carried him out?”

“Yes, it was those bastards,” nodded Pin, glaring. 

“Ordinarily I would say such language is shocking but... I quite a gree with you, young lady,” nodded Sister Rebecca, her eyes still upon Hal, her lips thinned with a quiet anger. 

She finally straightened and turned back to Callus. “I shall bring the linens myself,” she said quietly. “I shall be back shortly.”

“She’s not bad for a Chantry Sister,” Pin yawned. “Not like that Mother Giselle.”

“Father and Dorian both hate Mother Giselle,” Callus said absently before he dug into a bowl of stew. 

Pin gave him a sudden smirk. “Mother Giselle apparently is none too fond of them either. Guess that means she doesn’t like us? Not that I care, except she badgers Master Anders.” She pulled a face. “I can’t fathom why he bothers going to Chantry.”

“That’s not our concern, Pin. I know father often discusses it with Anders, but he is beholden to Mythal. As for Giselle not liking us? I don’t care, and you shouldn’t either. If she so much as looked at us sideways Fenris would throttle her anyway.” 

“Oh, I don’t,” replied Pin airily. “Only, Wynne says Mother Giselle was talking about Sister Rebecca in the library the other day. Something about her bringing the Order into disrepute and breaking vows or something?”

“I don’t think we should be gossiping about that Pin. I’m more worried about father and Zevran to be honest. I’m sure Sister Rebecca can hold her own against Giselle should it come to it. Now, come eat and then we can make sure Anders and Hal get something; assuming we can wake him.”

“I was only paying attention because it was Wynne telling me,” Pin shrugged. “And you know full well that the likes of us _have_ to pay attention to gossip. It’s saved us both a beating more than once. Don’t assume we’re safe here. Mother Giselle has the ears of the templars. If she decides that Rebecca has turned apostate - well, I wouldn’t like to see her get carted off the way Hal did.”

“She’s a mage?” Callus asked in confusion, he couldn’t recall if he’d seen her do magic.

“Not that kind of apostate, dummy - she’s _sleeping_ with a mage!” she replied as she stirred her own stew. “I know we haven’t been out of Tevinter that long but it’s quite obvious that the Southern Chantry would consider that a huge no-no.”

“How do you know she’s sleeping with a mage?” asked Callus curiously.

“Just watch her around Parcival,” she shrugged.

The elven boy shrugged then went back to his food for a bit. “Not our concern Pin. Come on, you try to wake Anders, I’ll try Hal.” Callus set the empty bowl aside before he tried to rouse the red-head.

Pin tried to rouse Anders, but without success. “It’s no good, Cal - when he’s exhausted himself like this he just sleeps for hours afterwards,” she sighed, shaking her head.

Hal moaned faintly, his eyelids fluttering weakly.

“Enchanter Hal, can you hear us?” Callus said as he gently shook the other man’s shoulder. “You need something to eat, and we need to change the bedding.” Hal cried out softly in pain, and Callus snatched his hands back hurriedly.

Hal opened his eyes slowly. “Where am I?” he murmured faintly.

“Fenris’ room, Anders got you from the cell and told them you weren’t possessed. Can you sit up at all?” Callus asked gently.

“I’m not sure I dare,” Hal confessed, his eyes darkening with the memory of his earlier pain. 

“Well you need to sit up enough not to choke if I help you have some stew. Let me help but it may hurt,” Callus warned him as he moved around to help Hal move around. “Pin can you stack those pillows behind him?” 

“I can’t bear the thought of food,” muttered Hal, a queasy look crossing his face, then drew his breath in with a gasp of pain as Callus settled him more upright against the pillows.

“Magebane, Cal,” Pin reminded her brother. “He’s going to feel sick as a dog for a while.” She gave Hal a sympathetic look. “Did they make you drink it, or only use it on you?”

“Both,” replied Hal quietly. “It was on the whip.”

“No wonder Anders passed out,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “Have you any idea how hard it is to heal wounds tainted with magebane?”

“Funnily enough, I do,” Hal managed wryly. Pin glanced at him.

“Oh, not you,” she said, her gaze softening. “I was talking to my brother.” 

Hal glanced at Callus, then tried to smile reassuringly. “It’s alright,” he shrugged, and instantly regretted the incautious movement as he blanched and drew his breath in sharply.

“Easy, now, don’t try to move,” said Sister Rebecca as she returned bearing clean bed linen. The healer, Parcival, had returned with her; he moved swiftly to the side of the bed.

“Lie still a moment,” murmured Parcival as he gently sent waves of healing energy into Hal. “You’re likely to be stiff and sore for a while I’m afraid.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, this should never have happened. There’s revolt in the College - there’s been a deputation of the senior enchanters to the Inquisitor already, demanding the removal of the templars from Skyhold. Very nearly had open revolt. The mages are angry - and the templars are nervous.”

Hal groaned quietly. “The last thing we need is another Mage-Templar War,” he said, distressed. 

“I agree, we heard of the conflict even in Minrathous. I’m sure once Anders is calmed and awake we can try and speak to the others. Right now, I think we should have cots sent here and once the bed is made, everyone try to get rest. This is far more excitement than I had back in Tevinter,” Callus said as leaned against Fenris’ table, his gaze caught by the thick leather-bound journal with a familiar sigil on it. 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had open hostilities between mages and templars here at Skyhold,” said Parcival as he shook his head. “Last time, it was because Commander Cullen had laid a Smite on Grand Enchanter Anders - back when he was only the First Enchanter.”

Hal smiled weakly. “Anders had shrugged it off then gave Cullen a black eye,” he nodded. “Don’t think I’ll be doing that myself. Anders is far stronger than I.” His gaze went to Pin. “Don’t you get any ideas either,” he warned her.

“No, don’t get any ideas. I don’t want to see a fight between father and Anders if you got some foolish idea about protecting him into your head Pin. Let father take care of his husband, and we’ll be on the lookout for him.” Callus said with a long look to his sister. 

“Well, if ever someone needed his eye blacking it’s that Cullen,” she said rebelliously.

Hal closed his eyes and sighed. “Not on my account,” he answered quietly. “And Anders would be very distressed if you did it upon his. Maker knows, he gets upset enough when Fenris, Zevran or Invictus do it.”

“Speaking of them, I want to check on father and Zevran while you get resettled. Would you mind Pin or do you want me to stay with you while we wait on cots?” Callus asked

Pin glanced over towards the window and frowned suddenly; both Hal and Parcival were staring in the direction of the window as well.

“Did you feel that?” murmured Parcival.

“What was it?” wondered Hal.

“Something’s out there,” whispered Pin as she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “And it’s got all the spirits spooked.” She glanced at the other two mages and then they all jumped as Anders suddenly sat up, his eyes opening wide.

“No. No, it’s not... that’s not possible!” he exclaimed.

“What’s not possible?” Callus asked as he moved to protect Pin from whatever had started the older mage awake and upright. Anders had risen from the bed and was making his way unsteadily towards the window. 

“He was dead,” Anders whispered. “He took it from me. It’s not possible.”

Callus looked from Anders to the others. “What is he talking about? Should I get Fenris?” The expressions on the faces of the others told him they were as nonplussed as he was.

Anders swayed suddenly as he braced his hands against the window frame. “No point,” he murmured. “He’s coming. He’ll be here soon.” He glanced back at them. “Don’t... don’t let him take me again,” he whispered before he collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

 

***

 

The wind whipped at his hair, the cold biting sharp as knives at exposed flesh. His fingertips were blueish-white with cold; they, like his feet, were numb.

 _It should hurt_ , came the thought. _Why doesn’t it hurt?_

He let the thought go like a snowflake on the wind; it didn’t matter. Pain, the cold, the tiredness in every limb that dragged leaden at his body - none of it mattered. His journey was almost at an end. His clothing was little more than rags now, but his need of it was almost done.

He stumbled and suddenly he was sprawled in the snow. It was soft, and for a moment he let himself feel the softness, the weariness in his chilled body; how nice it would be to just lie there and surrender to the nothingness. 

A searing pain tore through him; fierce blazing fire in his veins, a soundless scream inside his head; he was wrenched to his feet, forced to stagger on like a broken puppet dancing on unseen strings in the darkness as quicksilver lightning danced along nerves suddenly reawoken painfully. He opened his eyes and stumbled on, eyes watering in the bitter wind.

_Let me go. Let me die. Why aren’t I dead?_

The thought was quenched as suddenly as it had drifted to the forefront of what self-consciousness still remained. There was no more _I_ or _me_ ; only driving need once more, blind obedience to an alien will.

Skyhold. Skyhold was waiting.

_Soon._


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the way anyone wants to start their morning

Fenris couldn’t sleep; worry over what had been done to Hal, for Anders and whoever Danarius had possessed wouldn’t let his mind rest. He stared up at the rafters as Zevran slept curled next to him, a comforting presence at his side. He fell into thoughts that should be kept in the depths of his mind, and was so far gone that he didn’t hear the other elf call him until Zevran nearly shouted his name. 

Zevran was crouched over him, his hands on Fenris’ shoulders, his eyes wide in alarm. As Fenris’ eyes focused on the Antivan, Zevran exhaled slowly. “ _Carissimi_?” he breathed. “Are you with me again?”

“I wasn’t gone anywhere.” Fenris replied as he took in the worry of his husband. “You’re frightened.”

Zevran nodded then glanced away, as if suddenly ashamed. “You were staring at nothing. You seemed unable to hear me, and I... was afraid,” he confessed.

“I was ...deep in thought, none of them good. I’m sorry to worry you.” Fenris sat up so he could hold Zevran close to him. “Let me hold you, I need ...comfort right now.”

“You are shivering, _carissimi_ ,” murmured Zevran as he buried his face against the side of Fenris’ neck. “Or... am I?” Fenris felt Zevran’s eyelashes tickling his skin as the blond elf closed his eyes.

“Both of us maybe...can I confess something to you? I fear you will think me foolish for my worries.” Fenris said as he leaned back and tightened his hold on the Antivan.

“You have to ask, my love?” asked Zevran as he lifted his head and opened his eyes again.

Fenris shrugged as he considered his words, how to give voice to the last thing he wanted to accept as possible. “I fear what will happen if it is Invictus possessed by… _him_. I do not think I could act against him if...if that is who has been taken by the demon. My heart and mind would be...shattered Zevran. If ...no I must not think of it, it will break me just to wonder at it.” 

Zevran blinked. “Is such a thing possible?” he asked. “He seems too strong.” He sighed. “At least we know it cannot be Anders.”

“It could be yes, remember he was injured and vulnerable as well. Or...Dorian, he and I have become close. Pin said that it was someone close to me, but was unable to say who. It’s not Hal or Anders.” Fenris’ eyes widened as he also considered Zevran, they were close but he wasn’t a mage. “Or ...you, though you are not a mage, it would be more difficult to do but he’s already defied death in bonding with a demon. Is it you Zevran?” 

Zevran’s eyes widened as he felt Fenris’ hands tighten upon him, and then suddenly Fenris had reversed their positions, pinning Zevran to the bed as he stared down at the smaller elf intently.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” he asked softly. “After all, if I were, I would hardly boast of it.”

“I’d want to but… can I take that chance? You would be an ideal target for possession, with your knowledge and ability to be close to me, you ...if you were possessed would you even know since you are no mage?” Fenris replied as he continued to stare at the elf under him, his expression full of worry. “You have not attacked me though I pinned you, what do I do?” He asked himself.

Zevran stared up at Fenris, then closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Do whatever you have to, _carissimi_ ,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what to do!” Fenris replied as he debated the risk of just letting Zevran up and hoping he wasn’t going to murder him, well not him; but it wouldn’t matter if he dropped from one of his husband’s poisons. 

Zevran opened his eyes again and stared up at Fenris. “How would Anders or Invictus test? Or Hal?”

“They would throw a spirit bolt or something but I am no mage to do so.” Fenris said as he stared down at the slighter elf. “I will...release you, if you are not yourself, please make my end swift and not make me suffer.”

“No,” said Zevran quietly. “You cannot let me go - not until we are both certain that I am not controlled by this demon.” He closed his eyes once more. “Put your hand through my chest,” he whispered.

“No! Don’t...don’t ask it of me, I can’t Zevran.” Fenris replied. 

“You think I like this idea?” hissed Zevran. “I have felt your hand around my heart before, _carissimi_ \- I like this no more than you do! But it is the swiftest way to be certain. I will take no lasting harm, and what is such brief pain to a Crow? Do it, and let us both know for certain!”

“I’m so, so sorry.” Fenris said before he lit his brands and let his hand slide into Zevran’s chest, his hand steady, somehow as he prayed there was nothing to react to him.

Zevran’s back arched off the bed as he threw his head back, eyes wide in shock, unable to breathe for the pain. It was worse, so much worse than that first time; perhaps it was the lyrium, the additional lines wrought by Mythal - perhaps it was something more, his draconic nature. Whatever the cause, Zevran couldn’t breathe, his body rigid with shock, unable even to scream. He thought he could feel his heart falter.

Fenris pulled his hand free as soon as he saw there was nothing that would fight against the intrusion, he scrambled away and let Zevran free. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… please don’t hate me.”

Zevran collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes wide and staring sightlessly at the ceiling as his chest heaved, panting raggedly as his body shivered, still in shock. He blinked slowly, tears of pain slowly running down the sides of his face as he tried to speak but nothing came.

“Carissimi? Zevran?” Fenris called in a panic before he slid next to Zevran and reached out with a shaky hand to see if he had harmed him. “Zevran, please say something!” 

Zevran closed his eyes and swallowed. “Water,” he croaked.

Fenris hurried to get his husband water, and helped him to sit up and sip it. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Zevran sipped the water, recovering a little of his composure, then turned and rested his head against Fenris’ shoulder.

“Well, the good news is that I do not appear to be possessed,” he murmured. “The bad news is that I do not think my endurance of pain is quite what it once was.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t want to do that to you my heart. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Fenris repeated as he tried not to fall apart, not after the way he’d gone to pieces the night before. 

Zevran shook his head tiredly. “No. You were right to,” he sighed. “At least now we know you are safe with me, yes?” He closed his eyes; his heart was still beating erratically. He wished nothing more now than to sleep.

“Doesn’t make me feel any better about hurting you my heart. Rest, I will bring us breakfast before I call on Anders.” Fenris said shakily.

Zevran said nothing; presently, Fenris felt the Antivan grow steadily more limp, his breathing slowing into sleep. 

Morning seemed a long time in coming; even after he had laid Zevran down in the bed and curled protectively about him, sleep eluded him.

“Mythal, what do I do?” Fenris said as he stared forlornly up to the rafters, his heart hurting as he considered Dorian and Invictus, and how he would break if it were his husband that had been taken by the demon.

He finally gave up on sleep when he heard the keep staff going about their morning routines; the guards changing shift, one of the porters whistling in the hall, the calls of servants greeting each other as they passed beneath the windows of the rotunda outside. Zevran was still deep in exhausted slumber as Fenris rose and dressed; he left him sleeping as he returned to his own room where he found Pin and Callus asleep in chairs, Anders and Hal still laid out in the bed though his keen eyes noticed a bruise on Anders’ cheek that he didn’t remember being there before.

The elf came over and gently turned Anders’ face so he could look over the mark, a frown on his face as he wondered how it had come to be there. Everyone was asleep, and he didn’t dare wake the mage from his rest. “If this is a test of how much we can take before we all shatter, I’m going to fail terribly.” he said to himself as he pulled the blanket up a bit more over the blond mage before he glanced at Hal.

The red headed mage was sound asleep, at least he seemed so but he wasn’t as deathly pale as when he’d left them to the others care. He gently brushed some of the loose hair from the younger man’s face before he leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Forgive me, if I’d thought they’d take you without a second though I’d never have told Cal to get the Commander.”

Hal’s eyes flickered open slowly as Fenris straightened. “Fenris?” he murmured, blinking drowsily. “What time is it?”

“Barely first light, I couldn’t sleep so I came to check on you and Anders. How did he get that bruise?” Fenris asked as he pulled up a chair and took Hal’s hand in his.

“He fainted last night. We were talking - Sister Rebecca came with fresh bed linen, together with Parcival, and your children and I were talking and then we sensed something - magic, powerful magic, and a sense of such anger....” Hal swallowed hard. “Vulpine said she the spirits were afraid, and then Anders suddenly sat up, saying that it was impossible, that ‘he’ was dead. He made it to the window then he said something about not letting ‘him’ take him again, then he fainted. He went down pretty hard and bruised his cheek on the window frame as he fell.” Hal regarded Fenris with worried eyes. “Vulpine said that whatever it was, it came from out there on the mountain - not somewhere inside Skyhold. And that the spirits say it’s coming closer.”

Fenris glanced to Anders, then to Hal with confusion, unsure what the former warden could have meant. “I don’t know who he could mean however...unless he means Sebastian? But that makes no sense, he’s not a mage”

“Weren’t you close friends with Sebastian once?” asked Hal, curious. “Could Danarius have gone after him instead?” He groaned. “Maker, too many variables. It could be anyone. All I know for certain is that it’s not me or Anders - and presumably not you, because he’d have more reason to go for someone else than go for you. And I should imagine you’re protected by Mythal, in any case.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “My mind is going in circles,” he confessed. 

“As is mine, I have not slept well either..or much, let us say I know it’s not Zevran either so there aren’t many people left that he could have taken. Do you need breakfast?” Fenris asked, hopeful that they could stop talking about it.

Hal shook his head. “Too much magebane still in my body,” he sighed. “I don’t think I could keep anything down right now.”

“How much did they put in you? I’ll have Cullen’s head for this, assuming Anders doesn’t beat me to it.” Fenris snarled.

Hal glanced away for a moment. “They poured it into the whip cuts, and I think they coated the whip,” he said quietly. “And they forced me to drink it. It was on the manacles and collar too.”

Fenris lit up as his anger made him tremble. “Names...give me names and descriptions. I’m going to make them pay for hurting you love.” 

Anders awoke with a loud gasp, the pull of lyrium wrenching him out of his dreams as he sat up, eyes wide and stared at Fenris, startled; behind him, Fenris heard Pin suddenly exclaim as she, too, was startled awake.

“Damn, here I was trying not to wake everyone up.” Fenris muttered as he let his brands dim. “Apologies love, you should go back to sleep, and you as well...daughter.”

Anders had pressed a hand against his chest as he fought to calm his racing heart; he stared at Fenris, his eyes still a little wild. After a moment he dropped back against the pillows with a low groan. “Well, I’m awake now,” he finally said.

Hal had dropped his gaze down to the coverlet as he plucked at it distractedly. “I never saw their faces,” he said miserably. “I... I awoke as they were whipping me. I had no idea what was going on; they wouldn’t tell me what I’d done wrong, and it - it hurt, I was bleeding, and then they used the magebane and I couldn’t think for the pain. By the time they finished whipping me, I was out of my head from the agony. When they forced me to drink it, I couldn’t fight them. I don’t know who they were.”

Anders had turned his head upon the pillow to stare at Hal. “I’m going to kill Cullen,” he said softly. “And then I’m going to kill every single templar.”

Hal closed his eyes. “No. You’re not. You’re not going to start another war - not over me. Don’t you see? That’s just what the templars want - another excuse to kill us all.”

Anders made a sound of frustration. “Cullen was supposed to have gotten rid of all the mage-hating templars!” he groaned. “Where did they come from?”

Hal shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered. He had seemed quiet and withdrawn ever since he had begun speaking, and now he lay down and closed his eyes again. “I’m tired,” he said softly. “Let me sleep.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Fenris leaned over and kissed Hal on the forehead before he turned to his husband and daughter. “Come, let him rest and we can get something to eat.”

Anders sighed, then nodded. “Let’s stop by my rooms first; I could use a change of clothes,” he suggested.

“As you wish, do you need help?” Fenris asked quietly. 

Pin glanced at her sleeping brother, then rose from her chair. “I can help,” she suggested.

Anders gave her a rueful smile. “I wouldn’t object to help from both of you,” he admitted. “Particularly if Ellowynne is up and awake.”

The elven warrior helped Anders up, and with Pin’s assistance got the mage to his room faster than if he’d tried on his own.

Pin opened the door and glanced up. “Oh, hey, Wynne,” she smiled. She stepped aside to allow Anders and Fenris to enter.

Anders glanced around and spotted his daughter standing just in front of Invictus.

“Hello, love,” he smiled and then halted, the smile slipping from his face as he realised Invictus’ arm was casually draped over his daughter’s shoulder, the mage’s hand resting around the young girl’s throat as she stood very still and stared at her father with wide eyes. “Invictus, what -” he breathed.

“Imp?” asked Fenris as he stood still.

“Ah, here you are,” smiled Invictus. “I’ve been waiting for you... my little wolf.”

“No... oh no,” moaned Anders. “Please - please, let her go, take me instead! Please, I’m begging you!”

“Oh yes,” smiled Danarius in Invictus’ form. “You will.Come here, Anders.”

“Anders, no!” whispered Fenris, horrified, as Anders walked forwards.

“There’s a good boy,” purred Danarius as he rose to his feet. He shoved Ellowynne aside then spun Anders around until the blond mage was facing Fenris, his eyes bright with tears as Danarius lifted a knife to his throat. “Now. You and I have unfinished business, little wolf.”

Anders locked eyes with Fenris. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“I know,” answered Fenris, his voice steady though the sword in his hand wavered. 

“I wouldn’t make any foolish moves if I were you, little wolf,” smiled Danarius as he nudged Anders’ throat with the blade.

“Daddy!” cried Ellowynne as she made to run forward; Pin caught her in time even as Anders lifted a hand. 

“Stay back, sweetie,” he called. “Daddy loves you very much. Just - just stay still... please.”

The smile that twisted Invictus’ lips was a gross parody of love as he regarded Fenris mockingly. “What will you do now, little wolf? I can slit his throat before you can move. You cannot hurt me without harming him - or this wonderfully strong body I now inhabit. What will you do now, I wonder?”

“Fenris - don’t do it,” said Anders as he saw the elf lower his blade in indecision. “You have to look after Wynne. Please - please, promise me you’ll protect her.” The tears were now running down Anders’ face.

The elven warrior’s hand trembled as he stared at both men, Anders and how his heart broke to see Invictus taken over by...that thing that had owned him. “It will be ok my heart, Wynne will be ok, so will Pin. No matter what happens, be strong, please.” Fenris’ voice hitched as he stared at Danarius because what looked back at him wasn’t his other half, his heart any longer. 

“What would you have of me for their safety? Is it me you wish to possess then? Why take Invictus, why not just attack me to begin with? Tell me what you want for them, just don’t hurt them they did nothing to you.” Fenris said as he felt like he was going to break if something didn’t give.

“Why him?” Danarius laughed. “My dear boy, he denied you to me! And thus I must deny him to you. But don’t worry, he’s still here inside. I’m letting him watch.” Danarius smiled, even as Anders closed his eyes and shuddered. Danarius leaned in closer to Anders and inhaled the scent of his hair as he watched Fenris.

“Hmm, I can see why you like this one,” Danarius purred. “He is quite the pretty one, isn’t he?”

“Take me, take me and get your revenge Danarius, I don’t care what happens just leave them be. Please!” Fenris felt a flare of something from Pin as she stepped behind him, he hoped she wouldn’t try and do anything stupid. 

“Lay your sword down upon the floor by the door, my pet, then come and kneel before me in your correct place,” smiled Danarius before the hand bearing the knife jerked briefly and Anders gave a small cry as blood began to trickle down his throat from a shallow cut. Behind Fenris, Pin gave a shocked cry as the blood magic flicked out and there was a sharp crack as it grounded through her body.

“Daddy!” screamed Ellowynne.

“S-stay back, Wynne!” cried Anders, lifting a shaking hand, white-faced now. “Daddy’s alright! It’s - it’s just a scratch!”

“Foolish child,” said Danarius as he stared at Pin. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“Don’t harm her, she’s not a danger to you. She’s a child, I’m the one you want remember Danarius? You let him go, I put my sword down and I meet Anders half-way. I...I remember my place...I’ll be a good boy if you let them be. I promise.” Fenris offered as he kept Danarius’ gaze to him, his heart hammering in his chest as he hoped they made it out of the room alive.

“Oh, that you will,” smiled Danarius as he watched Fenris retreat to the door and lay the sword down before slowly walking forward. “Stop. On your knees,” he ordered as Fenris halted half-way back towards them.

“I will obey, once Anders is half-way from you. This is between us, and you’ve won by taking him from me. Allow this one, final request before… before I...completely surrender to you. I beg this of you...d..do..domne.” Fenris got out as he closed his eyes and prayed for anything, any bit of hope that someone would look for them so he could strike, the others could get away. 

“Foolish pet,” smiled Danarius. “You still do not understand, do you? You do not bargain, pet. I take.” He forced Anders to his knees and grasped the blond mage’s hair firmly then yanked his head back, setting the blade hard against Anders’ throat. “Now. Kneel.”

The elven warrior looked back at the girls briefly before he went to his knees, hating himself and that Pin saw him so undone. He dipped his head and waited.

Danarius smiled. “There now, see? You _can_ be reasonable.” He thrust Anders away to sprawl upon his face, clutching his throat as blood splashed on the floor; before Fenris could leap up, Danarius flung out a hand and a bolt of lightning hit Fenris in the chest, throwing him back hard and stunning him.

“Fenris!” screamed Anders,still clutching a hand to his bleeding throat, at the same moment as Pin screamed, “ _Father!!_ ” Anders scrambled to his feet and threw himself towards the fallen elf as Danarius laughed.

“He is not harmed - merely stunned and immobile,” he chuckled. “I want him to watch as I destroy all he holds most dear.” He gestured, and Fenris felt the tell-tale prickle of a Force spell being readied as the undead creature in Invictus’ form turned towards Ellowynne, who stared at him wide-eyed.

“ _Wynne!!_ ” screamed Anders as Danarius released the Fist of the Maker spell directly at the child. Desperately he threw himself up and forward, hurling himself into the path of the spell. His body convulsed as the force of the magic snapped through his body; he threw his head back in a silent scream before he collapsed to the ground, his face turned towards Fenris.

As the white-haired warrior stared in horror, Anders’ eyes glazed over and then closed, blood trickling from his nose and seeping from beneath his closed eyelids.

“No… no you bastard.” Fenris moaned as he laid there, unable to go to either of them. “Pin.. RUN!” was all he got out before Danarius approached him, ready to strike once more.

“Daddy! You hurt my daddy!” screamed Wynne; she gestured, and suddenly a bolt of lightning flew from her fingertips to slam into Invictus’ chest, throwing the mage back.

Pin frowned and gestured, and suddenly the room was filled with a roaring, howling wind upon which Fenris could hear the screams of spirits as they whirled about the room. As Danarius straightened, he was sent reeling by some unseen blow, then another, then another as the spirits buffeted him back and forth.

The door burst open behind Fenris, and then he heard Zevran’s voice. “What is - _carissimi_?? Maker, no, _Anders!_ ”

“Insufferable little brats!” snarled Danarius as he gestured and Pin was lifted back off her feet before her back slammed into the wall. She slid down, unconscious.

Zevran leapt forward, his blades in his hands as he stood between Danarius and Ellowynne.

“Forgive me, Invictus,” he breathed, then leapt at the possessed mage.

“Pin...no, not my...not my little girl.” Fenris whimpered as he struggled to crawl to her. “Mythal...help ...me.” he begged as he tried to move but fell once more in agony. 

Zevran cried out in pain, then fell heavily to the floor beside Anders’ still form; as Fenris watched, helplessly, the Antivan lifted his head, blood streaming from his nose as he glared at the mage, then forced himself to his feet and leapt towards Danarius again.

Again and again, Zevran threw himself at Danarius; glass shattered, furniture smashed as the mage and the assassin fought. The Antivan was near-silent, not wasting breath on taunts; Fenris could hear him give a low grunt or gasp when Invictus threw him back or hit him with a spell, barely audible over the sounds of Ellowynne sobbing for her father, begging Pin to wake up.

There was a loud crack as Zevran was hurled into the wooden table; it broke under the impact, the former Crow hauling himself up slowly from the wreckage and limping heavily two steps forward before he dropped to his knees then slumped to the ground.

A pair of dirty bare feet suddenly appeared in front of Fenris, and the air crackled with power as the scent of ozone filled the air. As Fenris glanced up, a tall stranger in tattered rags took a step towards Invictus’ form as the mage drew himself up. The stranger’s hair was long, dirty white and unkempt; a few tattered black feathers clung to one shoulder of the torn black garments the man wore. Raw spirit energy danced over the man’s body.

Danarius’ eyes widened. “What - what manner of creature are you?” he hissed. “You have the stench of the Fade all about you! No matter; you will fall as these others have!”

The stranger leapt towards Danarius, and suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light and both Danarius and the stranger screamed - Danarius in pain and fear, the stranger in raw, unbridled rage.

“What...in the Void?” Fenris asked as he shielded his eyes against them. “Vic...I failed, forgive me.” He rasped before he fell back and darkness took him. 

***

“Father? Father!” A voice was calling him. As Fenris opened his eyes slowly, Pin stared down at him, her eyes wide with worry. 

“Hnnn, let me sleep.” Fenris mumbled as he tried to turn from the loud voice over him.

“Father, _please_ ,” she pleaded with him. “Please wake up!” She glanced up at someone. “Invictus, please - he’s very drowsy, maybe you can get him to wake up?”

There was a buzz of other voices; one of them sounded like the Inquisitor, calling orders. From somewhere to his left, he heard Zevran groan then querulously tell someone to stop fussing over him.

“Pin? what...Invictus?” Fenris muttered before he turned his head and saw Vic approaching. “No… no, no! Get away from me Danarius, NO!” The elf tried to get away but cursed as he fell back. “No… don’t hurt me!”

“Father, it’s not Danarius!” said Pin. “He’s himself again. Danarius is - he’s gone, I don’t know how - the stranger -”

“Will someone please tell me why there’s a man with Anders’ face, cowering in the corner of the room?” called the Inquisitor testily.

“No… he made me kneel, he’s back Pin, he’s back, don’t… no…” Fenris kept saying as he backed into a corner and trembled. “Please, I’m sorry Pin, I’m sorry... “

“Father, it’s alright,” she said gently as she followed him. She glanced over her shoulder at someone Fenris couldn’t see. “Is Anders awake?”

“I’m afraid not,” answered Sister Rebecca as she stepped into Fenris’ line of sight. “Ser Fenris? Can you stand up?”

“Maker’s breath, I can’t get any sense out of the man,” Nathaniel was saying from somewhere nearby. “It’s - he _looks_ like Anders, but... there’s nothing there.”

Fenris shook his head no and shrank back even further from Rebecca.

“Alright, get that man to a room and get him cleaned up, someone get Zevran to the infirmary if he can be moved and wake Enchanter Hal, we need him. Dammit why does Arden need to be in Tevinter right now!” Meneris snarled. “Move!”

“Meneris, maybe Nathaniel and I can get some sense out of the man,” said a voice. With a start, Fenris realised Cullen had entered the room at some point.

“Out! Out!” Ah, that voice was Dorian; his rich, cultured tones were unmistakable. “Commander, if you don’t leave this room immediately then I shall electrocute you, just see if I don’t. You, my man, are _off_ my Satinalia gift list!”

“Someone make all the shouting stop,” slurred Zevran. As Fenris glanced around, he finally spotted the Antivan, slumped against the wall with his head in his hands. As he watched, Zevran leaned over and spat blood on the floor before lifting his head to glance at Fenris; the Antivan was bleeding from a cut over his left eye which was bruised and swollen shut, and his nose was still dripping with blood.

Fenris looked around the room and started to tremble, it was too much...all of it was too much. Invictus possessed, probably losing Anders, and Zevran as well. He could feel laughter trying to come forth, and he knew if he started he wouldn't stop until he was sobbing. “Away… I have to go away,” he whispered to himself.

Dorian glanced to his husband. “Meneris, we need to get this room emptied,” he said quietly. “And _venhedis_ , don’t tell him about Anders. Not yet.”

“An...ders?” Fenris asked as he looked up at Dorian. “What about him?” 

Callus had come in to see the destruction after someone had gotten him from the Great Hall. “Dumat have mercy, what in the Void happened?” 

Pin rose to her feet and turned to her brother. “We were all wrong,” she told him as she beckoned him over. “It was Invictus all along - _he_ was the one who was possessed.” She glanced at the former Champion, who had dropped into a chair on the opposite side of the room, as far away from Fenris as he could get. His face was buried in his hands as he sobbed quietly. She sighed then glanced around the room.

There were scorch-marks up the wall and the floor was smeared with blood as was a part of the wall. There were several splashes of blood near the chair where Invictus wept, a larger puddle in the middle of the room with a single bloody handprint near the door. There was a dent in the door, the table was broken and several pieces of chair were strewn about the room. Over half of the glassware on Anders’ workbench was smashed, and the contents of several potion bottles had spilled upon the floor.

“Amicus...help me leave, I want to go far, far away please.” Fenris asked Dorian in a small voice. “A portal, I don't care where, please.”

“Father.... You can’t go right now, you’re needed here.” Callus said quietly

“Anders...where is he? Where is he!” Fenris asked as he looked around and noted his husband’s absence. “Where’s Wynne, please… no, no… no!”

“Wynne’s fine!” exclaimed Pin hastily. “The twins took her over to the College. One of the mothers is looking after her. She’s not hurt.” 

“Where is Anders then? He’s… dead isn’t he, why isn’t he here!” Fenris said in a panic.

The others glanced at each other uneasily, then at Zevran, who was attempting to mop the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Where is he?” Fenris asked hysterically as he got to his feet and stumbled towards Dorian. “Where is my husband!”

Dorian glanced at Meneris, then turned back to Fenris. “I’ll take you to him, amicus,” he said quietly.

“Is he dead?” Fenris begged him as he grabbed the other man. “Is...he gone?” 

Dorian exhaled on a sigh. “No... not... dead,” he said heavily.

“Then what is it?” Fenris felt tears sliding down his face as he held on to Dorian. He was aware of Zevran staring up at them silently.

“He’s in the Chantry,” said Dorian quietly. 

“Why is he there? WHAT IS WRONG?” Fenris begged.

“Father, it’s... Vengeance. Or Justice. We’re... not sure which,” said Pin quietly.

“I don’t understand, please Dorian speak freely with me. I’m going to crack at this rate.” Fenris begged.

“Father, you should probably lie down for a while or let us take you to Anders,” Callus offered.

“That’s just it, you see,” said Dorian helplessly. “We’re not entirely sure that Anders hasn’t cracked. He’s been in the Chantry ever since the... the other... him did something. He’s just sitting there in the Chantry, not speaking.”

“The spirits say it’s either Vengeance or Justice, but they’re not sure which,” said Pin. “He was possessing the white-haired man who looks like Anders, and he... did something. We’re not sure what. When I came around, Invictus was sitting crying in the corner, you were out cold, Zevran wasn’t much better, and Anders was lying on his back in that puddle of blood and the white-haired stranger was all glowing and he bent over and it looks like he breathed something into Anders - and then Anders got up and went to the Chantry, and the white-haired man sort of... went to pieces over there.” She gestured to where Nathaniel was trying still to get the white-haired stranger to even look at him. “Wynne ran for help, and then you woke up when everyone else got here.”

“Take me to him, and then I’m going to go and get incredibly drunk until I pass out.” Fenris said rather shakily. 

As he spoke, the white-haired man in the corner suddenly turned and clutched at Nathaniel’s tunic and began crying as he stared around himself, bewildered. 

“Take me right now,” Fenris said as he turned to stare at the man who could have been Anders.

“Sure, no one explain anything to the person in charge around here!” Meneris said testily before he went to Nathaniel to help.

Dorian led Fenris away, Pin tugging at Callus to follow, even as Nathaniel stared down perplexed at the filthy stranger.

“Maker, I don’t know what to make of him,” the Warden admitted. “He _looks_ like Anders - but it’s like there’s nothing there. He just keeps clutching at me and crying. It’s like he has no idea where he is, how he got here, or even who he is. It’s like there’s no awareness at all - a blank slate. I’m not sure he’s even capable of speech.” 

“Get him cleaned up and fed, stay with him if you can. If he’s like Anders maybe you’ll be familiar to him,” Meneris said tiredly as he looked around the room. “And get workmen in here.”

Nathaniel nodded as he got to his feet and tugged the white-haired man to his feet. “Come on then - let’s get you washed,” sighed the Warden. He glanced over at Invictus then shook his head as he tugged the crying stranger with him.

Zevran had managed to get to his feet and was leaning against the wall, still blotting his bloody nose with his sleeve as he glanced blearily around. As Meneris took a step towards the elf, Zevran glanced up at him then shook his head, waving the Inquisitor away.

“Go,” he murmured. “Leave him to me.”

With a last glance back at Invictus, Meneris frowned then nodded, leaving the two men alone with Sister Rebecca.

Invictus looked up when he heard the door close and sniffed loudly. “He hates me now...how could I be so weak!” He cried out.

Zevran glanced at Invictus, then pulled the sodden sleeve away from his nose which seemed to have stopped bleeding quite so heavily. He turned and spat blood on the floor to clear his mouth. “ _Sono troppo vecchio per queste stronzate_ ,” he sighed heavily as he wiped blood from his face then spat again. He squinted at Invictus from his one good eye.

“Zev?” Vic said before he looked up to see how bad off the elf was. “Maker! Zevran…”

The elf pushed cautiously away from the wall and began to slowly limp across the room, wincing with every step. He paused after a few steps then clumsily pulled his shirt off with a low grunt; the back of his shirt was shredded and torn, soaked with different fluids including something that glowed faintly blue. He reached behind and drew a pained hiss then eyed the blood on his fingertips before shaking his head and continuing to limp towards Invictus.

“Maker man, let me help you… though I kind of did this to you. I’m so sorry love.” Vic murmured.

“I have had better days,” Zevran sighed. As Invictus wrapped an arm around the elf, Zevran leaned against him with a low groan and then stiffened as Invictus accidentally brushed the abrasions and cuts upon his back. “Maker, that stings!” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can take you to the infirmary, unless Sister Rebecca can help you out in your rooms?” Vic said with a glance to her. She had followed the elf across the room though not tried to touch him after how he’d snapped at her earlier.

“I have spent too much time in that infirmary,” Zevran shook his head. “I prefer to rest in my own room.” He glanced at the Chantry Sister. “Go, go, you have others who need you more,” he told her. “My husband will help me.”

Sister Rebecca glanced to Invictus.

“Go!” repeated Zevran, more insistently.

“As the Spymaster wishes,” she replied in a low voice and retreated from the room, leaving the two men alone.

“I do not think you pose me any further risk, hmm?” said Zevran as he took a step then limped, leaning heavily against Invictus as the mage walked with him slowly. “I do not know what happened at the end there, but I think Danarius is gone. You seem yourself once more, my heart.”

“I won’t be able to look at him, or Anders in the eye again. I hurt them.” Invictus said bitterly.

Zevran halted suddenly and lifted a hand to take a firm hold of Invictus’ chin, turning it until the mage found himself staring into Zevran’s one good eye. The elf regarded him for a moment in silence then let his hand drop as he nodded. “There. Now you have looked at least _one_ of us in the eye. You will look the others in time, no? Small steps, my love. It will take time.” He glanced back to the door. “Now. Help me up to the rookery. I am not looking forward to those stairs.”

“I will carry you if need be, then tell me what you need if I must fetch it for you.” Vic said as he led Zevran up towards his roost.

“We shall see; perhaps they will not be so bad,” Zevran shrugged. 

He changed his mind when they reached the stairs and he stared up into the spiralling darkness. “Hmm. Perhaps I was too optimistic as to my own abilities,” he shrugged. “Ah well. I fear you will have to carry me after all.” 

As Invictus hefted Zevran up into his arms, the elf bit back a curse. “Easy, easy!” he hissed. “My back feels like it is on fire. Maker, what was _in_ those bottles?”

“I don’t know but I’ll make sure to clean you up well before I stitch you. I’m so sorry Zevran.” Vic said.

Zevran was silent as Invictus carried him up the long winding staircase then across the floor of the rookery towards Zevran’s bed. The elf sprawled upon his stomach upon the bed with a low groan.

“The shelves near my desk - you will find all you need there,” he said quietly.

“As you need...be right back with some hot water, soap and flannels.” Invictus was quiet as he worked, mindful of the glass and and other scrapes along the elf’s back. “I am so sorry Zev.”

Zevran was silent as Invictus worked, save for the occasional faint hiss or gasp as the mage worked to clean and patch him up. Invictus began to wonder after he was silent for a long time whether the elf had perhaps passed out, until Zevran finally spoke. “What happened?” he asked softly. “When was it that we lost you?”

“I think in the infirmary...I was so out of it when we were all hurt. It’s my own fault, if I hadn’t grabbed for Fenris we wouldn’t have gone down the hill,” Vic said quietly.

“Ah,” said Zevran. “For a little while this morning, he thought it was me.” He had no need to say who _he_ was; they both knew.

“Makes sense to eliminate people as being possessed. Maker Zev, he was terrified when he came around. How is he going to be around me again? Or Ellowynne?” Vic added.

“What did you do to them? To Anders? His throat... that was... Danarius?” asked Zevran cautiously. “It did not look a lethal wound.”

“It was Danarius, he….let me see what he was doing but I could not fight, I was trapped. Maker...it ...kill me, please.” Vic dropped the flannel as he broke down.

Zevran twisted until he could look over his shoulder at his husband, then lowered his head as he reached back and took Invictus’ hand in his own. “No,” he said quietly. “I will not kill you.” He sighed. “Dying is too easy. It is living that is hard, my love.”

“I’m too weak! Danarius took me and I didn’t know!” Vic said as he wiped more tears away. “All these damned years I spent vowing never to hurt him, and then Anders and you! What happened the first time I was sick? Dammit Zevran I failed!” 

Zevran sighed softly. “Then do not compound your failure by beating yourself,” he said quietly. “This was no mere demon. And Danarius no doubt wished you to hurt as much as he, yes?” He tensed and then groaned softly as he lowered his head back onto the bed, closing his good eye. “My love, I am in pain. Please. I need you.”

“What...do you need, I’m...sorry,” Vic whispered as he resumed cleaning Zevran’s back and plucking shards out.

“I am not certain there is a part of me that does not ache,” Zevran confessed. “I am not sure what is wrong with my leg. I think I fell hard upon it, that last time.”

“You walked on it, so I am guessing it’s not broken. I’ll try to check you over, let me concentrate.” Vic let his magic flow through the elf. 

He soon found the long shard of wood embedded in Zevran’s thigh; the elf must have landed upon the broken furniture at some point. Invictus marvelled that the elf hadn’t felt it sooner. 

“This is going to really hurt; there’s a giant splinter in your thigh. You might want to scream, or bite on something,” Vic said as he got up for a knife and spirits to cleanse the blade. “Should I use fire as well?” 

“It cannot hurt as much as Fenris’ hand through my heart did this morning,” murmured Zevran. 

“Is that how he figured it wasn’t you?” Vic asked as he poured whiskey over the blade then let fire run over it briefly. “Ready?” 

“Yes,” nodded Zevran. “He -” He broke off with an agonised gasp as his fingers curled into the mattress, his body quivering as he fought to keep still as Invictus sliced into his flesh, the blood running hot and wet over his skin. He panted through the pain, sweat beading his brow.

Vic worked as swiftly and as safely as he could, silent as he cut into the elf’s leg and pried the piece of wood free before he laid his hands on the Antivan to heal him. “Almost done.”

Zevran slowly uncurled his fingers from the mattress with a low moan as he pressed his forehead against the bedspread. His body trembled in reaction as he exhaled slowly.

Vic finished up, and once he’d cleaned up Zevran, he held out a healing potion. “There, that should be the worst of that injury, do you need help taking that?” 

Zevran turned his head a little to the side, his eyes closed; after a moment he nodded, his movements slow and unco-ordinated as he rolled onto his side and blinked dazedly at Invictus, his face pale and ashen.

Vic helped him down the potion, then settled him in bed so he wasn’t putting too much pressure on the leg he’d just worked on. “Sleep, I’ll stay with you ...love,” he reassured the elf before he settled in a chair with a glass of deep, dark whiskey.

Zevran’s eyes had already closed again, consciousness fleeing swiftly.

 

***

Dorian led Fenris to the Chantry, Meneris following behind with Pin and Callus. Mother Giselle hurried forward to intercept them as they entered but at Meneris’ glare she backed away.

Pin darted forward to touch her father’s arm. “There’s something in here,” she murmured quietly as they stared towards the lone figure who knelt before the statue of Andraste, staring upwards. The candlelight gleamed soft gold upon his hair as Anders stared up, his back to them.

Fenris stopped short of touching Anders; instead he knelt next to the mage and offered his upturned hand in silence. 

Anders’ eyes never wavered from the statue of Andraste, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. His shirt was soaked through with blood; his face was pale, and his lips moved soundlessly.

Fenris turned and gently placed his hand over Anders’ hoping that the mage didn’t react badly. “Love?”

“Something is not right here,” Callus intoned.

“No indeed,” agreed Dorian, his voice hushed. “Vulpine? What do the spirits say?”

“They say... the healer is hurt. Very badly hurt,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “They say something touched his heart but they can’t tell me what or who. Some say Vengeance, some say Justice. They say it gave - but it also took something away.” She glanced to Dorian and Meneris apologetically. “I’m sorry, they’re very frightened - they’re not very coherent at the moment.”

“What did the demon do whilst it possessed Invictus?” murmured Dorian. “How did it hurt Anders?”

“It used him as a blood sacrifice,” she answered unhappily. “To - to hurt me.” 

Fenris moved in front of Anders and very slowly reached out to touch him. “Anders...please look at me; even if you cannot speak, just looking at me will be enough. Do you see me?” 

Anders stared blindly at the statue but his lips stopped moving. This close, Fenris could see the cuts upon his throat were still weeping blood sluggishly; the front of his shirt was soaked through. After far too long kneeling still, Anders slowly lowered his head and his eyes stared through Fenris before he blinked slowly, his eyes gradually focusing on Fenris. Then very slowly, he lifted his hands and rested them on Fenris’ shoulders.

“You’re hurt, let me help you love. Can I help you up? - just nod,” Fenris said carefully, his heart breaking as he saw the vacant look in Anders’ eyes.

Anders was still for a moment, then slowly nodded before he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Fenris’ chest. 

“I’m going to get up, slowly. If you need me to carry you squeeze my hands. Or I’ll help just help you walk. I’ve got you, ok?” Fenris said slowly. Anders glanced back up at the statue again, then at Fenris before he nodded again. He let his hands trail slowly down Fenris’ chest before he froze then slowly lifted his hands to stare at the blood upon his fingers before he began to tremble.

“What’s wrong with him?” wondered Dorian.

“He had to choose,” murmured Pin. “He could help Fenris, or he could save Wynne. He begged Fenris to protect Wynne. I think - I think he was telling Fenris to let him die and save Wynne. But the demon wasn’t going to let either of them make that choice. He couldn’t save them both.” 

Fenris rose and pulled Anders to his feet before turning him around very gently and guiding him as they headed into the Keep. “I’ll take care of him; see you all later, much later.” 

“Fenris,” said Dorian quietly. “If there’s anything we can do....” He glanced at Anders, who was staring listlessly into space once more, then at Fenris, who to Dorian’s eyes didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot better although at least the elf seemed capable of recognising where he was and guiding Anders. “Amicus - are you really sure you’re in any fit state to look after _yourself_ , let alone Anders?” he asked very softly.

“I don’t want to overwhelm him, especially with a lot of people,” Fenris said as he ignored Dorian’s other question. 

“Let me help you, amicus,” suggested Dorian, with a quick glance to Meneris.

Fenris stared at him for a long time before he sighed. “If I say no, you’re going to follow us anyway aren’t you?” 

Dorian smiled gently. “Let’s just say it will be easier all round if you say yes,” he agreed.

“Very well, but once he’s cleaned up and settled...you may see a side of me that is not...pleasant; as a forewarning, amicus,” Fenris said before he turned to guide Anders back into the Keep and towards his room.

“Understood,” nodded Dorian. He nodded to Meneris, then followed Fenris, moving up to walk on the other side of the blond mage who had now lifted a hand rather shakily to clutch at his wounded throat as he stumbled between them.

Pin watched them go, then turned to Callus. “They’re not alright. Neither of them,” she said unhappily.

“No, they aren’t. We will check on them later after Anders has at least got a chance to get rested and cleaned up,” Callus said with a glance to the other elf. “So, what do we do now, ser Inquisitor?”

Fenris was silent until they got to his rooms, where he went straight for the bathing chamber. “There are healing potions in the small chest on my desk. Please get them while I start a bath,” the elf said wearily.

“Of course,” answered Dorian as he made for the desk. The moment neither man was guiding him any longer, Anders stood still, swaying slightly as he clutched at his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor until Dorian moved over to his side and set the potions down beside him then began to tug the blood-stained shirt off over Anders’ head. Then he gathered up the potions and gently yet firmly steered Anders towards the bathing chamber.

Fenris bit back a sigh as he filled a bucket with warm water and took over stripping Anders. He was barely holding it together but he couldn’t let his husband stay out in the Chantry, shocked into inaction. “Another bucket if you don’t mind? Rinsing him off will take a couple.” 

The warrior guided Anders to a stool and managed to get him sat down. “Close your eyes, I don’t want water in them.”

Anders stared at Fenris then closed his eyes obediently. Dorian gently took Anders’ hand down off his throat then held the blond man’s hands in his lap until Anders let them rest there; when he was certain Anders would hold still, he stepped away to ready the second bucket.

Fenris rinsed him off quickly, then knelt before Anders so he could check his wound. “Heal yourself before we rinse you off again, please.”

Anders looked at Fenris and blinked water from his eyelashes, then hesitantly lifted his hands to his throat.

“Anders,” said Dorian firmly as the mage merely stared at Fenris; when the amber-brown eyes lifted to Dorian, the Tevinter magister wiggled his fingers at Anders as he called a little magic up himself. “Hmm? Healing? Come on, Anders. What’s the first thing we do, hmm? Call up the magic.”

Anders lowered his gaze, and then finally Fenris felt the faint tug of a little magic on his brands.

“ _Venhedis_ , amicus, I’m not sure this is going to work,” sighed Dorian. “I think he’s too much in shock to work magic. I think perhaps we should see what we can do with potions, and then perhaps his natural healer’s innate abilities will kick in when he rests.”

Fenris got up and took the bucket from Dorian. “Close your eyes again, then we’re getting you cleaned up while Dorian gives you potions. Nod if you can.” 

Anders nodded with a faintly bewildered air before closing his eyes. Dorian readied the potions, popping off the corks of the bottles then setting them close to hand.

Fenris moved carefully, his expression shuttered as he helped Anders into the tub and knelt to wash him as quickly as he could. “Dorian is going to give you a potion, swallow it please.” 

Dorian took that as his cue to kneel down and set the first potion bottle to Anders’ lips; Anders closed his eyes and drank it. As Dorian turned to set the empty bottle aside, Anders opened his eyes and made a faint, wordless cry of distress as he clutched at his throat again.

“Easy love, easy. Healing potions wiIl have to do until your bath is done.” Fenris sat back and got a towel. “Let me dry you - Dorian, if you’d help so he doesn’t fall over please?”

“Of course, amicus,” nodded Dorian as he steadied Anders. “I believe that’s the first sound I’ve heard him make since we found him,” he added very quietly to Fenris. “You don’t suppose there’s... damage there, do you?”

“I don’t know… I am not a healer. Perhaps we should see if Hal is able to assist us?” Fenris said before he accidentally knocked a couple of towels down. “Venhedis!” he snapped before he caught himself. “Apologies.”

“None needed, amicus,” replied Dorian. “We are none of us at our best I fear, and you and he have both been through a horrendous experience. I’m really not sure how well I would hold up in your place. Likely not be much better than Anders, I suspect.” 

The blond mage blinked owlishly at the magister, then shivered. 

“There, there,” said Dorian awkwardly as he patted Anders on the shoulder. “Soon have you dry and safely tucked up in bed, and then you can rest. I dare say you’re tired, aren’t you?”

Anders merely looked at him, then turned his head to stare at Fenris again.

“Yes, he’s tired.” Fenris said before he steered Anders towards his bed and sat him down. “May I look at your wounds?” 

Anders lowered his hand then made another faint sound, this time one that sounded almost like agreement as his shoulders slumped.

“Thank you.” Fenris gently tilted the blond’s head back and frowned. “Get Hal please if he’s able to come here, I can’t really stitch this where he was cut. I also fear my hands too unsteady even if it were in a spot I’d feel comfortable stitching. I’ll get a tincture to be sure it’s cleaned well before Hal arrives.” 

Dorian nodded. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he headed for the door.

Anders lifted one hand to touch Fenris’ face as he lowered his head again; his lips parted and he appeared to try to speak.

Fenris pressed a kiss to Anders’ palm and gave him an encouraging smile. “Yes love?”

Anders blinked and tears filled his eyes. _Forgive me_ , he mouthed silently.

“Forgiveness is not something you should seek my heart, not for what happened today. It is mine, for giving in and not adhering to your wishes. I failed when I tried to save you all. Forgiveness is mine to beg Anders, my heart...my beloved one.” Fenris felt his own tears slide free as he looked to his husband. 

Anders wiped at Fenris’ tears with his thumb, then leaned forward to try and kiss them away even as he wept silently. He threw himself into Fenris’ arms and buried his face against the elf’s shoulder, shuddering with voiceless sobbing.

The elf held him close as he let his own grief free. “I love you so much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Anders, I’m sorry,” Fenris repeated as he let Anders cry on him. He didn’t move when he heard the door open a while later.

“Fenris?” asked Hal softly. “Dorian said you need me?”

“His throat was cut and I can’t do much for him. He’s taken a healing potion but I worry his voice was affected,” Fenris said as he parted reluctantly from Anders so Hal could work.

Dorian helped Hal move painfully slowly over to sit beside Anders on the bed. “Let me see,” said the red-head. Anders closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Hal inspected the cuts. “I can’t close this myself, but I can help Anders,” he said with a shrug.

“ _Venhedis_ , you’re _still_ affected by the magebane?” exclaimed Dorian. Hal sighed then nodded.

Anders lowered his head then glanced away. When Hal reached to touch the wounds, Anders took hold of Hal’s wrist gently yet firmly, then smiled sadly at Hal and shook his head before he turned away. He crawled into the bed then curled up beneath the covers, silent.

“I’m sorry,” said Hal helplessly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Tale of Two Anders redux? Neither one appears to be having a very good day, and Invictus attempts to start picking up the pieces.

Fenris waited until the door had shut behind Hal and Dorian before he sat near Anders and reached out to brush some of his hair from his face. The mage at least looked up at his touch, instead of staring ahead vacantly. “I love you, I’m sorry,” the elf whispered before he sat back and let his eyes close finally. He was sore, wanted a hot bath and bottle of whiskey almost as much as he wanted to curl into a ball and ignore everything for a few days. He looked up when the door opened, glad to see it was merely Dorian returning. 

“He’s really not recovered much at all,” sighed Dorian as he returned. “He’s safely back in his own room now - he wanted to go work in the infirmary but I wouldn’t hear of it. I did check there, but I think Zevran must have gone up to the rookery. _He_ was in quite the mess as well, from what I could see earlier.” 

He made his way over to the bed and looked down at Anders, who had curled up again; a small frown appeared between the magister’s brows as he noted the way Anders’ eyes were half-lidded, the mage staring into space once more.

“I may be no healer, but I can put him to sleep, amicus,” he said gently. “It might be the best thing for him, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Please,” Fenris replied.

Dorian pressed two fingers to Anders’ forehead; the blond mage raised glazed eyes to regard him dully, and then the magister gently let a little magic flow and Anders closed his eyes, his head rolling limply on the pillow as he dropped into a deep sleep.

Dorian sighed, then dropped into a nearby chair. “And what can I do to help you, amicus?” he asked Fenris.

“Kill me, it would hurt less,” Fenris replied without thinking. “I...don’t know right now. I want to go away, far away. Everything...is wrong, it’s so wrong. I...called him mmm...ma...master again Dorian. I’m not free, I’ll never be free. No matter what I do, I will never be free of that demon.” 

Dorian had stiffened with alarm at Fenris’ first words, then glanced aside with a sorrowful look. “I don’t think you truly wish to die, my friend,” he said quietly. “After all, if nothing else, Maker only knows what that would do to Anders and your children now. Not to mention Hal.” He glanced up again. “And I’ve become... well, fond wouldn’t be quite the right word, but... I would not be pleased to lose you as a friend, and I have no intention of being the one to end your existence, painful though it may be to you at present.” He ran a hand slowly over his face. “Maker, it’s barely even noon but I feel exhausted already. When we walked - well, no, ran, really - into that room I... I honestly thought I was looking at several funerals. Anders looked dead, you looked dead, Zevran looked as if he’d died, been dug up and kicked around several times, the room covered in blood, Pin out of it, Ellowynne hysterical over her father’s corpse and -” He broke off and shuddered. 

“As bad as that last fight with Corypheus,” he finally finished softly. “And we bade farewell to too many then.”

Fenris giggled though there was nothing funny in what Dorian had said, he knew he was on the edge of hysterics. “Stay alive for others...I wanted him to kill me. Anything would be better than seeing him through Invictus, hearing the man I love call me his little wolf. To see that sneer, to force myself to beg and kneel. No...I can’t Dorian, I can’t. How am I supposed to lie next to Vic again? Or what about Ellowynne, you think she’s not terrified of him now? This was too much, it’s too much.” The elf went to his liquor cabinet and stared at it for a long time as he still laughed as if his own break was coming.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about children,” confessed the magister as he rose from his chair. “I trust the mage parents at the College will be far more capable of caring for her than I would be. I don’t know about how she would feel about Invictus now - I am far more concerned about what seeing him just now would do to Anders.” He approached Fenris slowly and picked up a couple of glasses then held them out to Fenris. “And I am also worried about _you_ , amicus,” he added. “If something like that had happened to Meneris - I honestly don’t know what I would do. Likely drink myself into a stupor, I suspect.”

Fenris got a bottle of dark whiskey out and didn’t bother with a glass, he took a long drink straight from the bottle. “Maybe you should leave...I do not want you to see me breaking apart. I would not lose what respect you may have for me,” the elf said as he held the bottle out.

Dorian took the bottle and poured himself a generous measure. “I must confess I’m not too good at this comforting business, amicus,” he said as he handed the bottle back. “My usual way of coping is to dive headlong into a bottle myself and only emerge when I’m sober and there’s nothing left to drink. It’s not much of a way of coping, I guess, but at the very least I can be here and keep you company.” He shrugged. “Getting drunk and maudlin alone is such a beastly wretched business I find.”

That got a laugh from the elf, though his laughter wasn’t right. Fenris took the bottle back and sat by the fire as he pondered what to do, how things had changed. “Will you make a portal and send me away for a while?” he asked finally.

“Where to? I can’t think of anywhere you couldn’t take yourself, after all,” shrugged Dorian. “You don’t exactly need me unless we’re taking company - such as Arden, for example.” He sipped his whiskey slowly. “Though bringing him back here might be useful, assuming he can be spared from Tevinter.”

“I just want to go, away. Far, far away. Barring that I wish Danarius had just taken me so none of you would have been hurt. Even in death he hounds me Dorian...I can’t do this anymore. It would be better if I was gone, then...you’ll be safe, it will be better.” Fenris was rambling as he stared into the fire, his words running together as he latched on to the hope of leaving and not having to deal with anything.

“Amicus, no matter how far you go, you won’t be able to escape your own thoughts,” said Dorian gently. “I found that out the hard way myself. Why do you think I was down here in the South to begin with? Much though I simply adore its little rustic charms, it certainly wasn’t for sightseeing.” He sipped his whiskey as he stared into the fire. “As for safe - I _should_ have been safe in the Embassy in Minrathous, and we both know how well that went. I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t been there, amicus. Danarius is dead - your daughter was able to tell us that much. That mysterious stranger saw to that - and somehow did it without scrambling Invictus’ brains, what’s more, which shouldn’t really be possible.”

“I should have been safe after I pulled that bastard's heart out. Ellowynne should have been safe, Anders should have been safe. We all have places where we’re supposed to be safe and yet none of us are!” Fenris snarled.

“The _world_ is not safe, Fenris,” replied Dorian acerbically. “We both know that. Ask Anders when he awakens if he prefers this life or would he rather go back to that oh-so-charming tower he escaped - what, seven times, wasn’t it? I’m sure he’d _love_ his daughter to be locked up where he can’t see her until some templar decides perhaps that Circle should be annulled next. Doubtless I would have been far safer if I’d only seen reason and allowed my father to use blood magic to _correct_ me - amicus, I don’t know if it’s escaped your attention, but on the whole people prefer a little risk for the sake of their freedom. And freedom means risk - danger, even death.” He stared at Fenris, arching an eyebrow. “I’m sure Pin would have had a safety of a sort if she’d stayed a slave in Tevinter but I think you and I both know the only rational choice was to free her and bring her here. Do you think there’s a single person here in Skyhold who is under the illusion we are, any of us, entirely safe? Because if there is then they’re a damned fool. The Inquisition isn’t _safe_ \- we do what we have to, because it’s better than standing by and _not_ doing something. And we all knew the risks when we signed on board - you as well as everyone else. So don’t tell me we’re supposed to be _safe_!”

Dorian leaned forward, his grey eyes snapping fire as he stared at Fenris. “You knew full well that you and I going back to Tevinter wasn’t _safe_ either - but I notice you didn’t back out, any more than I did.”

Fenris got in his face, his own eyes dark as he stared down his friend. “Don’t you fucking dare do this to me. I know gods-damned well how unsafe life is. Think I didn’t know that in Kirkwall, when I ...when I had to do, when I had to sell my sword to have enough coin for food, had to steal sometimes when I couldn’t take a job just to survive? Do you think I don’t know that when all I had was revenge to keep me going? When I spent nights in open fields, just… don’t patronize me _amicus_ when you spent a good portion of your life in comfort and lording it over men like me.” 

Dorian stared at Fenris, and then dropped his gaze, glancing away at the floor. “You’re right,” he said, quietly abashed. “You’re... you’re absolutely right, amicus, forgive me - I, I had no right to say any of those things to you.” He drew a slow breath, aware of the ghost of Fenris’ breath upon his face as he stared at the ground, afraid to meet the elf’s gaze again. He was all too keenly aware of how much taller and stronger the elf was when Fenris was leaning over him like this. Fenris hadn’t laid a hand upon the magister but Dorian felt pinned, nonetheless, as he tried to lean back in the chair, unaware he had tilted his head back subconsciously to bare his throat as he closed his eyes and swallowed briefly.

Fenris leaned back and took another drink then set it down between them. He was worn beyond his endurance, and all he wanted was to cry, to scream, anything but he felt self conscious with Dorian there, the other man’s presence all that kept him from making a fool of himself. He glared at the fire instead of letting the angry words that had formed run free. 

“Forgive me, amicus,” Dorian repeated softly. He reached for the bottle with a hand that trembled slightly.

Fenris huffed before he glanced to the magister. “Forgiven.”

Dorian refilled his glass slowly then set the bottle back down, wincing when the bottle clattered slightly on the table surface before taking a steadying sip.

“My tongue has a most lamentable habit of running away with itself and getting me into all sorts of trouble,” he said quietly. “It always has. You’d think one of these days I’d learn when to keep my fool mouth shut.” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to have another drink and get in bed, you’re going to put me to sleep and I hope I won’t wake up. It’s all I have right now, I can’t ...I’m done Dorian. Just entirely done,” Fenris said in defeat. 

“Would you... like me to stay?” Dorian asked, his voice subdued.

“If you want, doesn’t matter does it? I’m fucking broken and nothing else matters right now.” Fenris wiped at his face between drinks and finally threw it in a fit of anger before he got up. “I’m useless...just fucking useless,” he muttered as he pulled his shirt off and pitched his boots across the room. 

Dorian had flinched as the glass bottle smashed but remained in his chair, sitting still as the elf rose and stomped angrily around, muttering and berating himself. Dorian closed his eyes briefly as the boots hit the wall behind his head; he was fairly certain they hadn’t been aimed at him personally, but he’d seen Fenris in a mood like this before. He held still, silent, resolved not to speak or go near the elf until Fenris actually wanted him near him.

The warrior crawled into bed and curled around Anders with a sigh. He finally allowed himself to cry as he held onto the blond mage, his body shaking as he tried to keep silent. 

Dorian set his glass down and sighed silently as he heard Fenris weeping quietly. After a moment, he glanced over to the bed, his eyes softening as he saw how Fenris cradled the sleeping blond mage; and he hoped the enchanted sleep would be deep enough that Anders wouldn’t remember his dreams or be haunted by what had happened.

He leaned forward in his chair and felt ashamed for how he’d - well, he’d baited Fenris, hadn’t he? There were no two ways about it; he’d goaded the elf into anger. Maybe that was healthier than the self-hate for a situation Fenris had been helpless to prevent, but that didn’t mean Dorian had to feel good about it. He ran his hands slowly over his face then glanced over at Fenris again. 

After a while, the elf turned to see Dorian still there and he looked away in shame. “Put me down...please?” Fenris asked quietly.

Dorian stared at Fenris, wondering if the elf had realised what he’d just said, before slowly getting to his feet. “Put you under? Yes,” he nodded. “But put you _down_? No. You... you just need to rest for a while,” he replied as he walked closer. Put Fenris down? Like some wild dog? No. 

He gently laid two fingers upon Fenris’ forehead. “Sleep, my friend,” he murmured as he sent the magic through his fingers and watched Fenris’ eyes fall closed. He sighed, then returned to his chair, settling himself in to wait.

**

Nathaniel sighed as he stared at the white-haired stranger, then shrugged at Meneris.

“Well, I have no idea what to do now,” the Warden admitted.

The stranger was sitting at the table, tearing into his food with his bare hands, ignoring the dining utensils by his side. He tore pieces of meat off the haunch of venison with his teeth, devouring it hungrily. 

Nathaniel’s hair was as wet as the stranger’s; Meneris found himself idly wondering if the Warden had ended up in the wash-tub with the stranger. 

“He doesn’t seem able to speak, stares at me blankly when I try to get him to write; Maker, it’s like there’s nothing... there.” Nathaniel gestured at the stranger, who was poking the fork with a look of perplexion, the worst of his hunger sated. “He had no idea how to wash or clothe himself. It’s like... like a two-legged mabari, only less slobbering.”

“Does he seem dangerous, now that whatever...power he had seems to be gone?” Meneris asked sadly. “It’s like trying to train a little one all over again.”.

Nathaniel snorted. “About as dangerous as a puppy,” he shook his head.

The stranger glanced up, his face curiously blank, with a sort of wide-eyed innocence that made him look strangely young, in spite of the white hair which Nathaniel had endeavoured to tame somewhat. His brown eyes seemed devoid of all but a very mild curiosity as he licked grease off his fingers. 

“Do you think he’ll answer to ‘Anders’? Or something? We can’t call him… stranger,” Meneris said as he poured himself some ale and offered the bottle to the odd man.

The stranger tilted his head slightly to one side as Meneris mentioned the name _Anders_ , then looked at the bottle but made no move to take it.

“Watch this,” said Nathaniel, and took a cup. Pouring water into it, he set it down in front of the stranger, who stared at it then bent over to begin lapping at the water’s surface rather than pick up the cup. The Warden glanced at Meneris and shrugged. “That’s what he does if you give him water in a cup. It’s like he’s never been taught how to use a cup before. It’s like he’s forgotten everything.”

“It would probably be too upsetting for Anders to see him right now. Can, I mean how do we even re-train him to do basic things? I wonder if he can read still or write? None of us are suited to nurse him to...himself, whoever that is.” Meneris mimed drinking from the bottle then handed it to the stranger to see what he would do. 

The stranger looked at the bottle then sniffed it cautiously. He glanced up at Meneris, then sniffed it again before cautiously mimicking what he’d seen the elf do. He coughed and spluttered as the ale splashed over his face and up his nose, spilling down his chin and the front of his shirt; he made a wordless sound of dismay.

Nathaniel took the bottle from the stranger with a sigh; the stranger held up dripping fingers then cautiously began to lick the ale off, pulling a little _moue_ at the bitter taste.

“I offered him paper to write with, but he tried to eat it,” shrugged Nathaniel. “Like I said - a mabari. Only - well. There’s this.”

He turned and picked up a staff - one of the spare practice staves from the College, Meneris guessed. The stranger went still, his eyes on the staff. Nathaniel passed the staff from one hand to the other, then back; the stranger’s eyes followed it. As Nathaniel held the staff out, the stranger rose to his feet then reached out to take the staff. Then he moved back from the table, and hefted the staff easily in his hand before he twirled it suddenly, spinning it back over his forearm then he spun, bringing the staff around in an arc above his head in a curiously graceful echo of a move Meneris had seen Anders perform often in his magic. The stranger lifted his free hand before him, glowing blue energy coalescing about his fingers before dispersing.

Nathaniel exchanged a glance with Meneris, then moved forward to take the staff from the stranger. The man let him take the staff, then stood there, watching them both with a vacant stare as he scratched the smooth skin of his jaw where Nathaniel had shaved him earlier.

“He’s a healer like Anders? Or is he...another Anders?” Meneris wondered as he watched the man stand idle. “Get him a room then, and maybe he’ll sleep a bit now that he’s had a bath and food?” 

“As far as I can tell, he’s Anders. Or, well, _an_ Anders.” Nathaniel set the staff aside, then moved to the white-haired man and began to strip him out of the ale-wet shirt. “Come and look at this.”

As Meneris moved forward, the stranger stood docilely, watching Nathaniel as the Warden undressed him again. As Nathaniel gestured to the scars over the man’s heart, he looked down at Nathaniel’s fingers before the Warden firmly turned him around so that Meneris could see the old scars criss-crossing the man’s back.

“I know almost every scar on Anders’ body. Some, he already had when he joined the Wardens. Others, I remember him getting.” He turned the man around then lifted the man’s left hand, showing Meneris the small round moles on the back near the base of his thumb. “I know these hands almost as well as I know my own,” Nathaniel went on quietly. “This man is Anders. What I don’t understand is, how. But I _do_ know this man is also a Warden.” He touched the man’s chin with a forefinger and the man obediently tilted his head back until Meneris could see a deep, livid scar that ran around his throat. “But he didn’t have _this_ scar. This Anders has been hung. He should be dead.”

The man made a faintly distressed sound, and Nathaniel let him go as the man dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself, rocking slightly as he made the distressed sound again.

“Easy, easy there,” said Nathaniel gently as he stroked the soft white hair, and the man quietened.

“Creators, he’s like a newly scrubbed pot that has marks, but is ready to be filled again. Can the Wardens help him at all? Or do you think he’d be too distressed by the travel back to the Keep?” Meneris asked sadly.

“He’s not fit to travel yet,” said Nathaniel with a sigh, shaking his head. “His hands and feet were frostbitten; Parcival’s healed him, but couldn’t do much for the weeks of starvation and dehydration. He’ll recover in time, but right now he needs to recover his strength. As to whether he’ll recover his mind in time - Maker, I’m not even sure there’s a mind to recover.” He looked down at the strange man, then patted his head. “I can’t help but wonder if it would be kinder to put the poor bugger out of his misery, except he doesn’t seem... well... unhappy. Mostly, anyway.”

“He’s not a dog! How can you even say that Nathaniel?” Meneris stared at the warden in shock before he looked down to the other Anders. “Let’s get him settled, assuming he’ll stay in a room alone? I can’t even tell if he wants to be alone or not.” 

Nathaniel shook his head. “He doesn’t. He seems starved of affection, and he panics if I leave the room for long. He soiled himself when I simply stepped out to ask a servant to bring food for him. He may not physically be a dog - but to be honest, Meneris, there’s not much left that’s human. You have no idea how hard it was to get him into the tub to be washed - and it took me an age to get him to sit at the table to eat instead of hiding in the corner with his food. It’s... it’s just like a mabari pup I had as a lad.”

He twitched suddenly and looked down, startled; the strange Anders was rubbing his head against Nathaniel’s leg and whining faintly. The Warden closed his eyes briefly and a look of pain crossed his face. “You have no idea how hard it is to see him like this,” he said softly.

“I don’t, I’m sorry Nathaniel. What else can we do for you both?” Meneris asked as he watched the warden nuzzling at Howe.

“I need to send a message to Vigil’s Keep,” said Nathaniel. “It looks like I’ll have to stay here longer than I’d planned. And I was wondering if you know anyone else who would have been close to Anders in his Kirkwall days who might seem familiar - someone we can send for, who might awaken whatever memories he might still have? Perhaps that dwarf - what was his name... Varric?”

“I mean, there’s Arden but he’s ...not here right now. There’s Hal, if he came from the same place they did. I don’t know what it would do to Fenris to see him like this, he was already kind of out of it when Dorian took him back to his rooms. I wouldn’t dare ask Anders, even if he was in shape to see his double right now. I’ll stop by Fenris’ rooms, maybe Dorian will have an idea?” Meneris said helplessly. 

“Worth trying Hal,” Nathaniel nodded. “Has he recovered yet? I heard there was some sort of unpleasant business involving templars?”

Meneris winced as he took a seat and watched the other Anders rub at Nathaniel’s hand and leg like the Halla would do in his clan when they wanted affection. “Our ...templars need training on checking for possession. They assumed he was already lost, and imprisoned him. They also...did other things which he’s still recovering from. Cullen is going to see this does not happen again, even if he has to beg and scrape pardon in front of everyone for his failures.” 

Nathaniel nodded as he took a seat; Anders promptly sat at his feet and rested his chin on Nathaniel’s knee, staring up at the archer. Nathaniel swore to himself.

“No, up. Up, Anders. Come on, I’ll not have you - Maker’s breath, the puppy eyes were bad enough when there was intelligence behind them, but this?” He reached down and tugged Anders up off the floor; the man promptly climbed into the archer’s lap and rested his head on Nathaniel’s shoulder with a faint whine. “Yes, yes, alright, if you sit quietly,” the Warden sighed. He patted Anders’ head again, and the white-haired man gave a vacant smile.

“I’m sure Fenris would be in a worse state to see an Anders like this, so I will take my leave of you until I’ve spoken to him and seen if Dorian has any thoughts on what to do with your new charge. Will you be alright Nathaniel, truly?” Meneris asked with a look to the two men, saddened by this version of his Grand Enchanter.

Nathaniel gave him a bleak look as he put an arm around the white-haired man’s waist. “I don’t exactly have a lot of choice, Inquisitor,” he said stiffly. “The man’s a Warden, when all’s said and done - and he needs help and care. It’s my duty, no matter how I may feel about the man he once was.” He sighed heavily. “But thank you for asking.”

“Of course, should I look for you?” the Inquisitor asked as he rose to go.

“You’ll find me here if you need me - though if he’s going to be staying with me for the long term, I may need a larger room. This guest room is fine for one Warden on his own but with the two of us....” Nathaniel smiled ruefully. “Well, we’ll need a bigger bed - assuming I can persuade him to sleep _in_ it, rather than curled on top. Which can’t be any good for his back.”

The white-haired man suddenly squirmed then jumped off Nathaniel’s lap to run to the door; he scratched at it then looked back at Nathaniel in alarm.

“Maker’s breath,” muttered Nathaniel as he got up hastily and followed him to the door. “A room with privy would be good!” he called over his shoulder as he threw the door open and took the man by the arm, hurrying him up the hall to the nearest privy. They reappeared a short while later, Nathaniel blushing slightly as Anders walked beside him, the vacant smile back on his face as Nathaniel led him along.

“I’ll have Josephine get a bigger room for you.” Meneris gave them a last look before heading off to Fenris’ rooms.

“Thank you!” called Nathaniel as he herded Anders back into his room, looking slightly harassed.

When Meneris tapped at the door to Fenris’ room, it was Dorian who opened it.

“Ah, Amatus!” the Tevinter magister smiled. “They’re both asleep still.” He pulled the door open wider so the Inquisitor could see Fenris still curled around Anders. 

“How bad are they? The truth,” Meneris said as he entered the room and quietly shut the door.

Dorian sighed quietly. “Anders is... not really there. Completely non-verbal apart from some noises of discomfort which don’t really count. Incapable of healing himself; had to be led to the bath - he’ll drink a potion if you put it to his lips, but leave him to his own devices and he’s mostly staring blankly into space. Though he did show some signs of awareness of his surroundings when I fetched Hal - he seemed actually despondent that Hal’s magic hasn’t come back yet so he couldn’t work any healing on Anders. But...” Dorian shook his head. “Not good. As for Fenris... well. He reached for the whiskey and the self-flagellation at pretty much the same time and it rather went downhill from there.” He glanced away, looking uncomfortable. “This really isn’t my forte, love, and I may have put my foot in it somewhat with a thoughtless comment or two. In the end he asked me to put him to sleep, and I-”

He broke off as Anders suddenly began to thrash in his sleep, making frantic wordless sounds of terror as he tossed his head upon the pillow before he began to claw at his throat.

“ _Venhedis!_ ” exclaimed Dorian as he leapt across the room to grab Anders’ wrists before the mage could do further damage to his wounded throat. The cuts had reopened and were weeping sluggishly once more.

Fenris opened his eyes when he heard and felt Anders moving around. “What? What’s going on?” he said before he glanced at Dorian holding his mage. 

“Easy, Anders woke up in a state it looks like,” Meneris cautioned.

“Waking didn’t really come into it,” said Dorian tersely. “Anders. _Anders!_ \- he’s not awake yet,” he added, shaking his head as Anders struggled against his grip, wordlessly keening as he twisted and bucked, his eyes open wide yet staring blindly through the Tevinter mage.

Fenris lit his brands and wrapped his arm around Anders to try and calm him. “It’s alright love, come back to us.”

Anders stopped struggling, his eyes still staring blindly as he quietened, though Fenris could feel the blond mage’s heart racing still, and his breath came in frightened pants. He closed his eyes, shivering slightly, and Dorian carefully released Anders’ wrists before stepping back.

Anders opened his eyes again and stared around slowly, disoriented and groggy. He blinked at Fenris and clumsily patted at the elf’s arm still pinning him, then gave a low groan.

“I...I think he’s back with us,” said Dorian.

“Anders?” Fenris asked as he relaxed his grip but let his brands stay lit. 

“I’ll get some water for him,” Meneris said.

As Fenris relaxed his grip, Anders rolled towards him, half-curling as he clutched his throat gingerly. His breathing was steadier now, though he was still trembling slightly.

“I’m not surprised he had a nightmare,” said Dorian as Meneris returned with water. Anders blinked at the Inquisitor in dull surprise.

“Can you heal yourself now love?” Fenris asked quietly, his gaze worried as he watched Anders carefully.

Anders sat up and stared around himself, as though bewildered to find himself in Fenris’ room. He stared at his fingers, then touched his throat again before throwing back the covers and glancing around.

“Anders? What are you looking for?” asked Dorian; the blond mage frowned, irritated, and shook his head.

“I don’t understand, do you know what he’s looking for Fenris?” Meneris said as he sat with Dorian.

“No, I have no idea,” the elf replied in confusion.

Anders was staring at the floor, at the end of the bed, at the nearest items of furniture, his frown deepening.

“Anders,” said Dorian slowly. “Are you looking for your clothes?”

The mage glanced up and met Dorian’s gaze, then nodded once. 

“I’ll get something for you love, your clothes are kind of ruined from earlier. I’ll be back in a bit.” Fenris got out of bed and hurried out to Anders’ room, hopeful that something was salvageable.

He found the room a hive of activity with servants lugging out smashed furniture and blood-soaked linen, whilst several others were taking out buckets of dirty water; two men were packing Anders’ books into crates whilst several maids were carefully removing sets of robes from the wardrobe. A man with a clipboard and quill was talking to Josephine, who was calling out directions to workmen as they measured up the room.

“Ah, Ambassador Hawke - can I help you?” she asked as she spotted Fenris. 

“I was looking for something to take Anders, he needs a change of clothing. Why are you packing his rooms?” Fenris asked.

She stared around pointedly at the smashed furniture and the bloodstains, then at the bloodstained bed, before finally turning slightly to stare at the dented plaster in the wall near the door; Fenris had some vague memory of Zevran having hit the wall there at some point during his fight with Danarius. Then she turned back to Fenris.

“Point taken, let me get him something before it’s all put away.” Fenris got a couple pair of trousers and shirts, and his staff. “Please let me know where he’s moved to so I can bring him to his new quarters this evening.” 

“It seems there are quite a number of personal living quarters to be rearranged,” remarked Josephine. “I have to assign new quarters to Warden Commander Howe and his companion also - the Inquisitor was most insistent it be done urgently.” She turned to the man with the clipboard. “That is all for this room; make sure the work begins immediately.”

“Companion?” Fenris asked as he hurried out of the way of workmen.

“Yes, a white-haired man - tall, very thin, another Warden I believe. Something about his mind being gone.” Josephine shrugged, then turned and started waving at a man on a stepladder. “No, no - no, the drapes must come down first before you start with that wall! No, I said _all_ the drapes!” She turned back to Fenris. “As I was saying, I have to assign new quarters as apparently the man is quite unwell and must stay with Warden Commander Howe. They will be staying with us for some time before they can travel back to the Vigil. I’m giving them Solas’ old room near the library. Now, was there anything else you needed?”

“No, I’ll just get out of your way. Apologies Ambassador Montilyet.” Fenris gave her a nod of the head before he left for his rooms. “White haired man? Another Warden?” he muttered as he returned to his room. He had a vague memory of someone in a corner of the room, Nathaniel trying to talk to them; everything had seemed so chaotic in those first moments of waking however, and he’d been disoriented and panicked over what had happened to Anders at the time. The stranger’s face had seemed familiar, but he hadn’t allowed himself to give it much thought.

He found Anders pacing restlessly, a blanket from the bed draped around his thin frame, as Dorian attempted to persuade the blond mage to sit down. As Fenris entered, Anders turned, his eyes widening in alarm for a moment before recognition flashed in his eyes and he visibly relaxed a little.

“It’s alright love, they’re cleaning up and repairing your rooms, everything is getting moved for now. Do you need help getting dressed?” Fenris asked as he set the mage’s things down.

“Do you want me to get Ellowynne for you? I know she is likely worried for you Anders,” Meneris asked.

“Wynne,” Anders rasped, his voice hoarse and low. “Where... where is my daughter?”

“She’s with the twins, do you want me to get her love?” Fenris offered, relieved to hear Anders finally speak at last.

“I think it would be better than having her sent for, in case she is worried about you. I can come with you if you like or Dorian can so you can have some quiet without us hovering, Anders,” Meneris offered. 

Anders put a hand to his head, swaying slightly as he closed his eyes; after a moment, he nodded. “Yes. Please,” he whispered tersely. 

“Very well, Dorian do you wish to stay or come with me?” Fenris asked as he went for a tunic and his boots.

Dorian glanced at Meneris, then shrugged. “Perhaps Meneris should go with you - I, ah, I’ve never been particularly good with children. Not even when I was one.” He smiled apologetically.

“Very well, if you can help Anders get dressed...assuming he wants help or get food sent up because I am starved,” Fenris replied tiredly. 

“We will return soon enough amatus,” Meneris said before he followed Fenris out.

They found Ellowynne in the College. She was sitting reading a book near one of the mage mothers; Pin and Marian were talking in low voices nearby but broke off when Pin spotted Fenris.

“Father!” she exclaimed. Marian glanced over at the door then straightened self-consciously when she noticed the Inquisitor.

“Hi Pin,” Fenris replied warmly as he approached, and was shocked when she gave him a brief, hard hug. “You’re well?”

Meneris was stunned at the change in the girl, considering she’d been more like a wild cat when they’d last spoken. To see and hear her, and the indulgent look on the other elf’s face was a shock. “Hello Vulpine, glad to see you up and about.”

“Better for seeing you,” Pin told her father. She glanced at the Inquisitor. “And it’s just Pin, ser. Vulpine is what Xerxeus called me.” She glanced up at her father again, a look of worry replacing the smile. “We’re worried about Wynne,” she said quietly. “She’s not said a word about her father. How - how is mas- Anders?” she corrected herself.

Fenris gave her a warm smile and hugged her again before he glanced to his step-daughter. “Speaking finally, but he needs a healer since he was too...distraught to do it himself last night. He’s getting dressed and asked me to get Wynne.” 

He beckoned to Ellowynne and frowned when she didn’t seem excited to see him. “Imp, what’s wrong?” 

Meneris remained silent, unwilling to meddle for the moment.

Ellowynne glanced up at him, then closed her book and got down from her seat to walk towards him slowly. “Hello Uncle Fenris,” she asked quietly. She stared up at him intently. “Can I ask you a question? Only, you have to promise first to tell me the truth.”

“Of course Imp.” Fenris knelt down so she wouldn’t have to stare up at him. “You have my solemn word I will tell you the truth.”

She stared hard at him. “Is my daddy really alive?”

“Yes Imp, he’s very much alive. I stayed with him last night and he was up and talking a bit when I left him just now. He wants to see you and it will probably help him. Why do you ask if he’s really alive Wynne?” Fenris wanted to look to Pin for why the girl asked but he kept his gaze on the little girl.

“Because I saw his ghost, and he told me to tell you that he killed the bad man who made you say ‘domne’,” she answered.

“Anders is very much alive Wynne, I don’t know what you mean by his ghost,” Fenris replied.

“She must mean our newest addition. He looks like Anders but his hair is white as if he were another ten, fifteen years older than he actually is. Your father is quite alive.” Meneris’ voice tailed off at the horrified look on Fenris’ face. 

“You didn’t tell me that.” the elf whispered. “Why didn’t you …” He suddenly remembered the white-haired stranger again.

Pin was staring at her father, mystified. “Father? What’s wrong? You... you look like _you’ve_ seen a ghost....”

“I...I might need to lie down once we get Wynne to her father. Or I might just …” Fenris caught himself before he fell over. “Pin, come along let’s get Wynne to Anders and then I need to sit down.”

“I...dammit. I’m sorry Fenris I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. Come on, I’ll help you back before you fall down,” Meneris said sheepishly.

“But... you mean, that strange dirty man with the white hair and that scrappy beard that Nathaniel was talking to?” said Pin, confused.

“He looked different before - when he was all glowy,” said Ellowynne. “He was Daddy then. Are you sure he wasn’t a ghost?”

“He didn’t look like a ghost to me,” shrugged Pin. “Just a sad, scared old man with dirty hair and bare feet. Maybe you were seeing things, Wynne?”

“I know what I saw,” insisted Ellowynne stubbornly. “And I didn’t say he _looked_ like Daddy, he said he _was_ Daddy.”

“Go see your Dad, kid,” shrugged Marian. “Then you can ask him if it was his ghost you saw, right?” She glanced to Pin. “Come find me later, I’ve got something I want to show you.” She winked, then glanced at Fenris. “‘Bye, Pin’s Daddy.” Her smile was more of a smirk as she turned and strode towards the stairs leading to the upper levels.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at his daughter in query. “Pin’s daddy?” 

“Well you _are_ her father,” Meneris said as he nudged them towards the door.

Pin turned red. “It’s just Marian’s idea of a joke. It’s not very funny,” she replied.

“Pin blushes a lot when Marian says things like that,” said Ellowynne. “And when she talks about my Daddy.”

“ _Imp!!_ ” exclaimed Pin, her blush darkening.

“Does she now?” Fenris said with a smirk though he had no heat in his words. 

“At least I’m not the only one who stuck their foot in it today,” Meneris said as he followed behind them. 

They found Dorian sitting on the floor next to Anders, who was hunched over with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head resting on them, his eyes closed as he shook his head. Anders was dressed in a plain shirt and pants; a strip of clean white linen had been wound around Anders’ throat, for which Fenris was grateful - he wasn’t sure how Ellowynne would have reacted to seeing the slash marks on her father’s throat from where the possessed Invictus had used him as blood sacrifice. Dorian’s hand was hovering over but not quite touching Anders’ shoulder as if he felt he should try to comfort the other mage but wasn’t quite sure how. He glanced up as they entered and then got to his feet with a thankful look.

“Daddy?” said Ellowynne warily. Anders lifted his head and stared at her.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered; a moment later Ellowynne had flung herself into his arms and was hugging him tightly as she babbled something incoherent then burst into tears.

“Thank Mythal for small favors,” Fenris said quietly, only jumping when Pin took his hand. “Where’s your brother?”

“I’m not sure - he went down to the great hall earlier,” she replied quietly. “I think he was going to fetch food for Zevran and to check he’s alright. Invictus took Zevran up to the rookery earlier apparently. Cal’s not sure it’s a good idea to leave the Spymaster alone with -” She broke off and dropped her gaze.

Anders had wrapped his arms around his daughter and buried his face in her hair; from the way his shoulders were shaking, it looked like the young girl wasn’t the only one crying.

“Let’s leave them be then, I want to check on Zevran anyway and talk with both of you about...what happened,” Fenris’ voice dropped low as he looked away from Pin in shame. 

“We’ll see you later hopefully? If you can spare some time tomorrow or even later I’d have a bit of your time Fenris,” Meneris said as he felt Dorian’s hand in his.

“Is it a good idea to leave both Anders and his daughter alone when they’re like this?” murmured Dorian. “Anders is barely talking - I’m not sure they should be without others to keep an eye on them, Amatus.”

“I... I could stay...” murmured Pin, then glanced to Fenris. “Or... or we could all go find Zevran? I just.... I think the magister may be right.”

“Pin, please call him Dorian,” Fenris replied as he stared at Anders with Wynne. “How about you stay with them, I’ll check on Zevran and then return?” 

“Sounds like an idea, I’ll let Callus know you’re up and about. It’s your room so you’ll return here eventually,” Meneris said as he headed for the door. “The guards know you are to have whatever you need, simply request it.”

Pin was regarding Dorian a little skeptically. The Tevinter mage sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Vulpine -”

“Pin,” she corrected him.

“Pin,” he nodded graciously. “I realised this may come as a surprise to you, but I consider myself no better than any other man here in Skyhold. I really would prefer it if you just called me Dorian, as your father does. Please.”

She regarded him impassively. Dorian sighed and turned away, shaking his head. “Amicus, I shall see you later. I have some papers I need to look over in Meneris’ office, but I have some messages I need to send courtesy of Zevran’s ravens later. Let me know if there’s anything he needs and I can take it up to him.” He glanced back to Anders. “And I’m glad you’re.... well... talking again,” he added lamely as the blond mage glanced up at him.

“Thank you, Dorian,” Anders rasped quietly. 

“As you will, thank you Dorian,” Fenris echoed before he slipped out with Meneris. Once they were alone, the elven warrior took a seat before he fell over. 

Anders was staring at him, his gaze a little pensive and distant as he held Ellowynne. After a moment, he dropped his gaze to his daughter. He murmured something to her and she got to her feet, stepping back as he rose and stepped over to a chair.

“Daddy,” she said, subdued. “Daddy, I saw your ghost.”

Anders went still, his gaze on her as he tried to smile. “When was that, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“After he killed the bad man in Uncle Vic,” she answered. “He pulled the bad man out and they fought and he burned him all up and ate him. And then he looked at me and said ‘hello, Wynne, I’m afraid I have to go away for a while’. ”

Anders blinked. “My...ghost... said that?” he whispered. She nodded.

“He said ‘I took something away and now I have to give something back. But I’ll be ok.’ And then your ghost sort of...” She scrunched her nose up. “ _Kissed_ you. Except it wasn’t a kiss, really. And then all the bright light went away and then the other man fell over, and Uncle Vic was crying, and I couldn’t wake you up.”

Anders glanced to Fenris.

The elf was staring at Ellowynne in a mix of horror and fear. “Wynne...what do you mean by bright light?” Fenris asked as he gawked at her.

“Daddy’s ghost glowed. There was all this lightning all over him and his eyes glowed bright blue - like you do sometimes, Uncle Fenris,” she answered.

Anders’ eyes widened and he glanced back to Fenris.

“Not possible,” he breathed. “Wynne - this other man - where is he? You said the other man fell over - what other man, sweetie?”

She looked back at him, her innocent eyes wide. “The one who looked like you, Daddy.”

“Where is he Wynne? I want to see him for myself,” Fenris asked nicely despite wanting to run from the room.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug. “That was when Dorian and the Inquisitor and the Warden and the Commander arrived and everyone was shouting, and the Warden went to talk to the other man and Marian came to take me to the College.” She turned to Anders. “Daddy, is it true you’re going to make the Commander shovel shit in the latrine pits? Daddy, what’s a latrine pit?”

“It’s... like an outdoor privy,” he whispered absently, still staring at Fenris. “Love... it’s not possible. Hal said he was dead. Arden... Arden came through a rift, the same as Hal did, but... but Hal said that they were the only ones who came through. It _can’t_ be him. He’s dead. Arden told us in the Fade that his Anders died in Kirkwall. He’s dead. He _has_ to be.” He swallowed hard and then coughed, clutching at his throat as he winced. “Water... please,” he whispered hoarsely. Pin leapt up to fetch him a glass of water with a worried look.

“I need to see for myself, you stay with Wynne. Pin… stay with them, I’ll be back,” Fenris said absently, his thoughts going back to their hopping between worlds and what had come of it. He had the distinct feeling he knew just who this white-haired stranger was, though he couldn’t see how it were possible. “No...if it’s him, I quit. I’ll just leave, that will be it, the line I can’t cross. I can’t do this,” he said as he headed for the door.

“Fenris!” cried Anders hoarsely in alarm.

The warrior turned and stared at his husband. “Yes?” 

“Don’t... don’t go,” Anders whispered. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“Father,” said Pin in a low voice. “He’s scared. He’s terrified that if you go, you’re... you’re not going to come back.” She pitched her voice low and quiet, for his ears only. “He’s not the only one.”

Fenris gave her a smile that wasn’t quite right. “If I find what I think I will, I might not. This is too much Pin. My heart… my head can’t take anymore.” The warrior sat on the bed with a very wrong, unlike him giggle that he couldn’t hold in. 

“Then don’t go,” she urged him. “Stay here. Neither of you is ready for... whatever this is. If you walk out of this room, he’s going to go to pieces - and you’re about a heartbeat away from it yourself,” she added. She walked over to him and took his hand. “Father, I’ve seen you fall apart once, when they came for Hal. Please. Don’t do this.” She blinked hard. “ _Venhedis, I’m not yet sixteen Father - you can’t do this, you can’t leave this all to me! Anders is barely functional, Wynne is only a child, I can’t do this and handle you going to pieces as well! Please, Father! We need you here more than you need answers you’re unprepared for. Please._ ” She had slipped into their native Tevene without even realising it as she stared into her father’s eyes.

Fenris blinked as he listened, a few tears slipping free as he pulled her to him in a hug. “ _Forgive me Pin. This has been hard on all of us._ ” He pulled back, but kept a loose hold on his daughter. “Let’s stay here, maybe a nap will help or something to eat, I’m getting a headache,” he mumbled. 

Anders was still staring at him, his eyes a little wild, as he held Ellowynne close. As he realised Fenris wasn’t going anywhere, he seemed to slump with relief; as his head drooped, it wasn’t until Ellowynne suddenly grabbed his shoulders that Fenris suddenly realised Anders was on the verge of fainting.

“Malum!” Fenris exclaimed as he grabbed at Anders to keep him from hitting the ground. “Pull the covers back and get another pillow on that side, one of you.” He barely caught the tall mage before he crumpled into his arms.

“Let me give you a hand,” said Pin as she came to his side. “The bed’s ready - Wynne, stick your head out the door and see if there’s anyone in the hall who can help?”

Fenris put Anders under the covers with a sigh, his composure hanging on by a filament. “Mythal…” he said as he sat on the other side of the bed. “If you care for me, help me, please,” he begged quietly.

Ellowynne came back in with a young templar who was tugging his helmet off. “Sorry, is there a problem? This young lady just came and grabbed me,” he asked, glancing around.

“Grand Enchanter Anders is still unwell, please see if a healer mage is available, and if not, send for Sister Rebecca,” Fenris said without turning around.

Pin glared at the young templar and hissed. “Father! It’s a templar!” She advanced on the young man and spat at his feet. “Was it you? Were you one of them?”

“What? One of who?” said the young templar, bewildered. “Is the Grand Enchanter hurt?”

Fenris got up and glared at the man as well. “Get out! Go get Commander Cullen; I will see no other templar but him. Go quickly if you wish to keep breathing!” 

The young man backed away hastily. “Y-yes, ser, at once, ser!” he exclaimed, and then bolted.

“But Pin, you said to find someone to help?” said Ellowynne.

“Templars are not to be trusted Wynne, never do you hear me?” Fenris said angrily. 

Anders groaned faintly, his eyelids flickering as he stirred and tried to sit up, not quite fully awake yet.

“Easy love, relax until help arrives,” Fenris said as he gently pushed Anders back to lie down again before he took the chair by the bed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you Wynne, but templars here are not to be trusted, they hurt Enchanter Hal.” 

Anders opened his eyes and looked around, bewildered. “Templars? What? Wynne -”

“I’m here, Daddy,” she said as she ran to her father’s side.

Pin walked to stand next to her father; as she watched Anders hold his hand out to Ellowynne and the younger girl flung her arms around him, the elven girl smiled fondly.

“He adores her,” she murmured quietly. “He would have died for her -” She broke off and blinked, a sudden thought occurring to her - a vague remembrance, as she lifted a hand slowly to rub the back of her head absently, looking down at Fenris.

“As I would do for you, and for Callus. It’s why I begged Pin, and ...forgive me, I can’t talk of it yet.” Fenris looked away, his eyes closed as he tried to calm himself. “You said you needed me right now, I’ll fall apart later.”

She was staring harder at him now, a faint memory piecing itself together as she frowned. “Just after I hit the wall - Zevran came in. You... you called me something.”

“Daughter, I called you my daughter Pin.” Fenris had lifted his head and opened his arms if she wanted to come to him; though he needed the contact more than he could say. 

“You called me your little girl,” she said softly. She smiled, shyly. “Is that... that’s really how you think of me?”

“Yes, my sweet girl if you’ll let me call you that. You’re a young lady, but you’re my little girl. Cal is my boy, and I nearly…” Fenris caught himself before he said his fear out loud, and made it real. 

She blinked, and found her eyes were filling with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she stepped into the circle of his arms and hugged him back. It had been a very strange and terrible day, and suddenly she didn’t want to have to be the strong one any more. “Father,” she whispered brokenly, feeling very young and lost and needing reassurance as she buried her face against her father’s shoulder and felt his strong, comforting embrace as he held her close. She closed her eyes and let the tears come at last. “Daddy.”

“Pin...my little girl. Thank you,” Fenris whispered as he hugged her back and let his own tears of happiness fall. 

“Daddy?” Ellowynne was saying quietly. “Daddy, what’s wrong? Daddy, it’s alright, we’re all safe now. Daddy?”

Fenris kept his hold on Pin as long as she held on to him. He wasn’t going to let go, not when she’d finally let him in. 

Ellowynne glanced worriedly at Fenris and his daughter. “Uncle Fenris?” she asked, a little uncertainly, still clinging to her father’s hand. “What’s wrong with Daddy?”

Fenris got up and went to Anders’ side. The blond mage was lying still in the bed, his face dreadfully white. “I think he’s just exhausted He had a terrible fright like we did along with the fight. Can you take Pin and get some things from the infirmary if I make a list?” He trailed his fingers along the blond’s face, fearful for how pale he looked. Anders’ eyelids flickered and the mage sighed silently as he tried to turn his head towards Fenris then gave up.

“What do you need, Father?” asked Pin. “We’ll get them.” She looked at Anders. “What do you think is wrong with him? That - that spell Invictus hit him with... that was blood magic, wasn’t it?  
He used Anders’ own blood to fuel it, didn’t he?”

“Yes, the ...creature that hunted me was a senior member of the Magisterium when he lived, when he...owned me. Anders shouldn’t have survived that attack to be honest, and I’m surprised I’m not in shock as well. I’ll make a list for you both and if you can stop in the kitchen for a tray to be sent for us; that would help my headache I think.” Fenris wrote a list for Pin and Ellowynne to take, as well as a note to put on the door so they could be left alone once their meal had been sent.

“There, it’s not much but they should give you a basket to carry these back. Do not talk to any templars, if you see Commander Cullen, tell him I want a word,” Fenris said before he returned to Anders’ side.

Ellowynne leaned over her father and carefully kissed him on the forehead; Anders’ eyes drifted half-open then closed again. 

“Come on, Imp,” said Pin as she took the list. “I wonder where Cal’s got to? Never mind, let’s get going.” She gave her father a worried smile before she took the younger girl’s hand and led her away on their errand.

**

The croak of a raven startled Invictus; with a whirr of black feathers, the bird came in from the balcony and made directly for the bed where Zevran lay, the Antivan elf still sleeping deeply. The bird landed on the headboard of the four-poster bed then hopped along, eyeing the mage with cold, alien eyes before it hopped down onto the pillow next to Zevran’s head. It cawed softly, then nudged the elf’s ear before tweaking a lock of pale blond hair.

“Off with you, bird; he’s asleep and he needs it.” Vic shooed at the corvid, and frowned when it refused to budge. “What? He _does_ sleep...and I am arguing with a bird; what has my life come to?”

The raven cawed at him, hopping back away from his flapping hands then returning to tug harder at Zevran’s hair as the elf didn’t stir.

A second raven flew in, landing upon the headboard and peering down at the first raven curiously. It gave an interrogative croak, then hopped down to perch on Zevran’s chest, tilting its head on one side as it stared at the unconscious man. 

“Alright this is weird. He’s unconscious, leave him alone.” Vic shooed at the second bird with a sigh. “Go on, go back to your perches.”

A third bird soared in with a raucous scream; the other two birds shifted aside and ducked their heads as this new bird dropped down to land on Zevran’s wrist where it lay upon the bed. It tapped the inside of his wrist sharply then eyed the unconscious elf with its head upon one side when this failed to elicit a response. The first two ravens cawed loudly in return; the third bird gave them what Invictus could only describe as an imperious look before it hopped along Zevran’s arm to his shoulder, perching on the tawny skin to stare at Zevran’s sleeping face before it turned its head and screeched at Invictus.

Invictus looked rather affronted at the bird’s screeching at him. “I beg your pardon - wait, why am I arguing with a damned bird? Let Zevran rest, he’s exhausted and hurt. Go on, go away!” Invictus tried to get the third crow to leave Zevran alone as well as him. “Were you this badly behaved for Leliana?”

The bird flew up at Invictus, screaming at him as it raised its clawed feet; alarmed, the mage jerked back, lifting his hands up reflexively to protect his face - and felt a small scroll of paper drop into his lap. Surprised, he glanced down at it as the bird wheeled away to land upon the headboard, and then suddenly the other two ravens flew at Invictus and dropped message scrolls into his lap as well, before following the other raven until he sat there, surprised, all three message scrolls in his hands as three ravens perched above the unconscious Spymaster and eyed him with black, alien eyes.

“I’m not reading these, they are meant for Zevran!” Vic said as he stared back at the birds until one looked ready to attack him. “Fine...fine; I don’t know what you think I can do.” He read them, and nearly dropped one from Dorian with an impossible date on the top in his immaculate hand.

_Attn. the Inquisitor - Amatus - Funeral over. Am installed officially as Lord Pavus. Returning to embassy now. Grand Enchanter holding up well. - DP_ It was dated only three days ago; yet Invictus had seen Dorian in Anders’ room only a few hours ago.

The raven cawed softly as Invictus looked up, and it dropped down to land on Zevran’s shoulder. It pecked gently at the unconscious elf’s cheek, then made an odd almost purring chirping sound as it rubbed its head against Zevran’s cheek with what Invictus could only imagine was affection. It cawed again softly.

“He’s going to be fine, I think.” Vic laughed nervously as he rolled the messages back up to put on Zevran’s desk. “Pavus, what have you done?”

There was a low moan from the bed behind him; as Invictus turned back, he saw that Zevran had rolled his head upon the pillow, his eyes still closed. There was a fine sheen of sweat upon the sleeping man’s brow.

“Be useful, get someone here to help me,” Vic said as he glanced at the birds.

The birds eyed each other, then looked to Zevran as he moaned again. “Message... have to answer....” the Antivan slurred, not opening his eyes as he tossed his head upon the pillow. One of the ravens tugged on his hair and cawed. “Yes... yes... I come, I come....” His eyes as they opened were glazed and feverish.

“No you don’t, Maker… I don’t want to leave you to get help.” Vic eyed the birds warily before he penned a note to Dorian for help.

There was a tap at the door; distracted, Invictus opened it to find none other than the magister himself standing there.

“Ah - Invictus. I was expecting Zevran....” said Dorian slowly as he eyed the mage.

“My day has gone from weird to damned haunting in a few heartbeats. Come in please.” Vic let the other mage in with a grateful smile.

As Dorian entered, one of the ravens swooped towards him and dropped something from its talons into his waiting hand. “For me?” he said with a frown, then unrolled it and stared at his own handwriting. _To D.P. If you’re reading this, it worked. - D.P._ “ _Venhedis_ ,” he breathed softly, stunned.

“What did you do Pavus? I read your note, but it couldn’t be you now could it? Did you go mucking around with time again?” Vic asked tiredly.

“Not yet I haven’t - it was merely a theory of sorts,” replied Dorian in a distracted tone. “Though from the looks of this, one that I have already put into practice - or will do? This is.... incredible.” He was interrupted by a low moan from the bed.

“I was just about to send one of those damned birds to drop a scroll on you before you appeared. Zevran is in a bad way, and I don’t know what to do for him,” Vic admitted.

“Good luck with that,” remarked Dorian drily. “Those birds only answer to the Spymaster himself, now Leliana’s gone.” He crossed to the bed and stared down at the feverish man. “What’s wrong with him? You’re right, he looks pretty rough.” He leaned over the elf and touched his forehead with the back of his fingers. “ _Vishante kaffas_ , he’s burning up! An infection? What were his wounds?”

“He got thrown across Anders’ bench, and I spent a bit of time plucking glass out of his back, along with a thick piece of wood in his leg.” Vic replied.

Dorian pulled back the bedcovers carefully and stared down at the unconscious man, frowning at the bandage around his right thigh. “Possibly some fragment of wood remaining?” he guessed. “Maker, I’ve no idea; I’m not a healer. He doesn’t look good though.” He pulled the covers back up to Zevran’s waist as the Antivan tossed his head restlessly.

“Vic... something is wrong... the man... the man is....” Zevran groaned. “Call the birds. The birds will come, I need....”

The ravens cawed softly, and Dorian darted them a sharp glance. “The birds are here, Zevran,” he said quietly. “What do you need?”

Zevran sighed softly then fell silent.

“Love, they worry for you. They are here, what do you need them to do?” Vic said quietly. “I’m no healer, and Anders wasn’t in good shape before I ran off like a coward. Do you know if Hal is well enough to heal?” 

Dorian shook his head. “The magebane is wearing off far too slowly, and Anders is in no fit state to heal himself, much less anyone else. Though he seems to have begun to talk again, which is better than the way he was staring into space earlier.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Zevran? Zevran, can you hear me? Oh, it’s no use, he’s passed out again.” The magister straightened and sighed, then turned to Invictus.

“Nurse him as best you can for now. I’ll see if I can find someone in the infirmary who can help. I think they’re rather snowed under at the moment with both Anders and Hal out of action, but there must be someone available - maybe there’s one of the senior students over in the College who might be able to help.” 

“This is a nightmare... one I did nothing to truly prevent,” Vic said as he rose. “Can you stay for a bit? I need a wash, to change my clothes and I’d like to get some supplies for him.”

Dorian nodded. “Of course. I was only coming to ask Zevran to send out some messages on my behalf, but they can wait - it’s obvious our esteemed Spymaster is going to be out of action for a little while. Do send a message to Meneris to let him know where I am and what’s happened though.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and gave Invictus an encouraging smile.

“Sure, assuming no one sees me and runs screaming the other direction I’ll be back shortly.” Vic hurried out to his room, hopeful he’d miss running into anyone.

He thought he’d been successful until he was on his way back to the rookery and encountered Nathaniel as the Warden came down from the library. He was holding the hand of a man with long white hair who was hunched over, clutching at Nathaniel’s hand like a child, barefoot and clad in one of the Warden’s spare shirts and pants.

Invictus stumbled when he saw them, sure that the Warden would have sharp words for him and how he’d let a demon in. “Warden Commander.” Vic said as Nathaniel drew closer and he could see the other man with him. “Who’s he?”

The white-haired man pressed himself against Nathaniel’s side and made a faint whimpering sound. “Easy,” the warden murmured to his companion. “Hello, Hawke,” he said to the mage. “You don’t recognise him?” 

The white-haired man butted his head against Nathaniel’s hand - just like Invictus’ mabari Malum used to do, the mage recalled with sadness.

“Easy there,” Nathaniel repeated as he patted the strange man’s head. The man tilted his face up, eyes closed and a vacant smile on his face - Anders’ face, Invictus realised.

“Maker...no. No, no, no,” Vic breathed as he backpedaled until he hit a wall. “No...Nathaniel, not this.” 

The honey-brown eyes of the stranger opened and he gazed at Invictus with a vague air of mild curiosity. Nathaniel sighed. “He won’t hurt you, Hawke. He can’t hurt anyone. Look... I think you’d better step inside.” He gestured at the door to what had once been Solas’ room. “I need to get him settled again. I’d hoped if he looked at some books it might bring something back, but he gets restless away from where he feels safe.”

“Not harmless, not at all,” Vic said as he moved aside and turned so he couldn’t see this vacant shell that wore his husband’s face. 

Nathaniel pushed the door open and the white-haired man scampered inside, Nathaniel following slower behind, Invictus bringing up the rear reluctantly. 

“No, Anders, come out from under the table,” sighed Nathaniel; the white-haired man had crawled on hands and knees under the table and had curled awkwardly into a ball that can’t have been too good for the tall man’s back. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Invictus whimpered as he saw this version of Anders acting like a scared dog instead of a man. “Why is he like that?” 

“I suspect that now the spirit possessing him has gone, it has taken his mind with it,” said Nathaniel sadly as he watched Anders creep out from beneath the table and sit carefully upon a chair. The Warden poured water into a bowl then set it down in front of Anders; the man began lapping at it like an animal, ignoring the way his hair dipped into the water. 

“Why aren’t I like that? Our Anders carried a spirit for years and never lapsed into ...this,” Vic said helplessly as he gestured at the white-haired man.

Nathaniel stepped around behind Anders and gently cupped the man’s chin with his hand; obediently, Anders lifted his head then tilted it back so that Invictus could see the scar around his throat. It reminded Invictus of the scar around Arden’s neck - except this scar was deeper, more livid and twisted.

“I think maybe because you didn’t die whilst possessed,” said Nathaniel heavily. “I’m not sure there was anything guiding this man beyond maybe a memory of who he once was, and the spirit driving him on. Now the spirit has gone, and I don’t think there’s anything left - or if there is, then it’s buried so deep that I can’t reach it. Maker knows, I’ve been trying.”

“I wish I could do more, but I’m afraid of him, and I can’t think what would happen if Fenris saw him. He was already terrified of me, this is so fucking terrible,” Vic replied. 

“Anders and I were lovers for a time, before he joined with Justice and fled Vigil’s Keep,” said Nathaniel as he set a hunk of bread and some cheese on a plate then set them in front of Anders. “It’s no joy to care for him like this, believe me.”

“I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me,” Vic said quietly. “I was on my way to my room to get cleaned up and get something for Zevran, he’s woken up delirious.” 

“Delirious?” frowned Nathaniel; Anders had grabbed the bread with both hands and was gnawing on it hungrily. “He seemed fine apart from being rather the worse for wear earlier.”

“He’s feverish and calling for his birds. Dorian is sitting with him, so I don’t want to be gone too long. If I can be of any help, let me know. It’s better than hiding from Fenris and Anders anyway,” Vic said as he looked to the other Anders sadly. 

Nathaniel shook his head and sighed, staring at Invictus as he began cutting pieces of dried sausage from a link on a plate. “Maker knows what was in some of those smashed flasks that were on Anders’ workbench,” he shrugged as he put chunks of sausage on Anders’ plate then began to cut the sausage again without looking at what his hands were doing. “That room was a wreck when we -” 

He broke off with a muttered curse and dropped the knife, then put his hand to his mouth to suck at the blood welling up from where the knife had slipped and embedded itself in the meaty pad at the base of his thumb. “Andraste’s flaming arse!” he swore.

Anders glanced up then reached out and grabbed Nathaniel’s wrist; he stared intently at the bleeding cut, and then blue healing energy swirled out from his hand to envelope Nathaniel’s thumb. As the Warden and Invictus watched, astounded, Anders calmly healed the cut then went back to bolting down pieces of sausage as though he were starving hungry.

“Well he...knows how to heal. Andraste’s tits, I wonder...if we took him to Zevran if he could help?” Vic pondered out loud.

Nathaniel was staring at Anders, who had finished off the bread, cheese and sausage and was now licking the plate. “It’s worth a try,” he shrugged.

“Let us just pray we don’t run into Fenris, this might send him off into a worse shock,” Vic muttered. “Come along then, let’s try it.”

“Anders,” called Nathaniel. Anders lifted his head and looked at the Warden with that unnervingly vacant smile that reminded Invictus of Sandal, only with less sign of intelligence or self-awareness. “Come on, Anders,” said Nathaniel as he held his hand out to the white-haired man.

It took longer than expected; Anders had had to be coaxed upwards, becoming fearful and starting to whimper as the tower grew darker the higher they climbed.

“It’s alright... Anders, just a little further.” Vic lobbed a ball of light ahead of them in the hopes it would help the other man see there was nothing to fear. Anders cried out and cowered against the wall, hiding his face as he keened in terror; a dark stain appeared upon his pants as he crouched there.

“Maker’s breath, I think you’re actually making it worse,” muttered Nathaniel. “Come on, Anders. Close your eyes. Just hold on.” Somehow, the Warden managed to persuade the terrified man up the final few steps and into the rookery itself.

Dorian was carefully wiping Zevran’s face with a cool wet flannel when they finally reached the rookery. He glanced up as they entered and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Warden Commander Howe? What - wait, that’s not Anders, is it?” He rose to his feet, dropping the flannel into the bowl of cool water as he stared at the frightened man who cringed against Nathaniel. Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Has he wet himself?”

“Yes, thank you Magister Pavus - now, if you wouldn’t mind?” said Nathaniel in an exasperated tone.

Vic doused the mage light and sighed. “I’ll get something from my room, I never made it there to begin with,” he said tiredly. “Just...see if his ability to heal will kick in with Zevran.”

“I only hope this works,” said Nathaniel as he led the terrified man over towards the bed. “Come on, Anders. This is Zevran. Do you remember Zevran?”

The white-haired man stared at the sick elf with mild curiosity in spite of his fear.

“My word. He - you called him Anders; is this - some Anders from a different Thedas? Like Hal and Arden?” asked Dorian, his curiosity aroused as the white-haired man crawled onto the bed and hesitantly poked Zevran’s cheek. The Antivan groaned faintly, his eyes still closed.

Invictus hurried to his room, glad he managed to miss anyone else while he dashed in to get a very quick wash, changed clothes and grabbed something for the other Anders before he ran back to Zevran’s quarters. “I’m not in as good a shape as I used to be, damnit,” he huffed.

He found Zevran weakly opening his eyes and staring up at the white-haired Anders in confusion; Anders was laughing at the ravens and clapping his hands delightedly as the birds hopped along the headboard and cocked their heads at him curiously.

“Was he able to help?” Vic asked as he watched this other Anders for a moment before he joined Zevran on the bed.

“He was indeed,” said Dorian as he eyed the white-haired mage who was reaching for one of the ravens. “Quite remarkable. It was the leg wound; there was a piece of wood - a tiny fragment, really - still embedded in the wound, and it seems it had begun an infection. Something in one of the flasks seems to have aggravated it. It is as well you returned with him when you did; Zevran had begun to deteriorate very quickly once you left - in much the same way that Anders did when he was poisoned. Well - _our_ Anders did, that is,” he amended.

Anders touched the raven and it cawed at him; he laughed delightedly and tried to touch its tail as the bird hopped away, then hopped back towards him as if daring him to try again.

“He’s like a child...but one that remembers how to heal if nothing else,” Vic said as he watched Anders playing with the birds for a while longer. He turned and gave Zevran a sly smile. “Better?”

“I feel as though I have been sat upon by a bronto,” sighed Zevran. “I feel very weak, but clear-headed at least.”

“I’ll try and get Anders out of those clothes and into clean ones,” said Nathaniel. “Come on Anders.”

The mage ignored him, instead scrambling up to chase after the ravens as they taunted him, flying to land almost - but not quite - within reach of his hands before flying up again. Anders was laughing louder now, his eyes shining in innocent delight.

“It’s better to hear him laugh than to see that vacant stare turned on me,” Vic said as he rose to get Zevran some water. “Thanks for staying Dorian, I appreciate it.” 

Dorian shrugged as he watched Anders trying to catch the ravens - Nathaniel patiently following them around to try and get Anders to stay still long enough to be persuaded into clean dry clothes.

“It was the least I could do,” he remarked. “It’s fortunate that this Anders still possesses the ability to heal. Shame we don’t dare bring him near our Anders - I think perhaps the shock might prove too much however.”

Nathaniel had succeeded in wrestling Anders to the floor; one of the ravens had consented to bring itself close enough that Anders had scooped it up in his hands and was stroking it and making little wondering noises as Nathaniel changed his pants. The Warden glanced up, huffing a stray lock of hair out of his face as he regarded them with a look of frustration.

“Do you need a hand or would he be upset if one of us touched him?” Vic asked quietly. “I don’t dare bring him around Fenris either.”

“You’re welcome to try,” shrugged Nathaniel as he sat back. He hadn’t managed to get the clean shirt onto Anders yet, but at least the white-haired mage was in clean pants. “He freaks out if I leave him on his own, but I’ve not had the chance to see how he’d react to someone else trying to handle him.”

Anders let the bird go and watched with open mouth as the raven flew back up to its perch near the balcony.

Vic picked up the shirt and approached the other man warily. “Anders, hey...you’ll be cold if you don’t put this on. Let me help?” He held the shirt up so this other version could see he had nothing but clothes.

Anders looked at him with an uncomprehending look. “Uh?” He tilted his head on one side in almost perfect mimicry of one of the ravens.

“Vic, I do not think -” began Zevran.

“Vic,” said Anders.

“Yes, I’m Vic. You’re Anders,” Invictus said with a smile.

“Hawke, he’s - that’s the first word he’s spoken,” said Nathaniel quietly. “I honestly didn’t think he was capable of speech.”

Anders merely smiled mindlessly; he twirled a finger in his hair and then stared at the white locks, distracted. 

“Anders?” Vic said as he held the shirt up again. Anders looked up from his hair and glanced at the shirt uncomprehendingly.

“It’s fascinating,” said Dorian quietly. “It’s like he has no personal awareness at all. He’s not completely mindless, but it’s like... like a baby, or an animal. A complete blank slate. I wonder, could he be trained? Taught?”

“I wonder at that, but he said my name, like a child learning to speak.” Vic mimed putting on the shirt, then held it out again. “Shirt.”

“I’ve tried,” said Nathaniel quietly. “Though it’s only been a few hours.”

Anders blinked and frowned slightly as he stared at the garment in Invictus’ hand. He looked down at his own bare torso and scratched at the scars over his heart, then looked up at the shirt again. “Hhnn?”

Vic mimed getting the shirt on again and then put it in Anders hands. “Shirt,” he said while trying to get the other Anders to realize what he meant.

Zevran had sat up and was staring at Anders, frowning. “He is but a child,” he said softly. “Helpless. And yet... he healed me through instinct. Yet I think there is something more than instinct inside.” He threw aside the covers and set his feet to the floor as he stared at Anders.

Anders was frowning at the shirt in incomprehension. He stared back at Invictus with a worried look. “Vic,” he tried again.

Invictus approached him slowly and raised his arms in the hope the other Anders would mimic him. Anders watched and then slowly, hesitantly lifted his arms, watching Invictus still with that worried expression.

“Now I know what he reminds me of - look at his face,” said Dorian suddenly. “Invictus, he’s afraid you’re going to be cross with him. He’s trying to work out what you want.”

Vic gave Anders a smile and rose up on his knees so he could tug the shirt over his arms. Once he had it on over the white-haired man’s head, he leaned back and grinned. “See, shirt.”

Anders ran a hand slowly down the front of the shirt, then looked up at Invictus anxiously. “Hnn. Vic.” He dropped his gaze and bit his lip.

“Anders? Can you say Anders?” Vic asked as he tried to encourage the other man with a smile and soft look.

Anders lifted his head and stared at Invictus again. “Ah... ah....” He blinked and licked his lips. “Ah - And...ders.” 

“Maker,” murmured Nathaniel softly. “He can say his name.”

Anders leaned forward and touched Invictus gently. “Vic.” He sat back and patted his own chest. “And - Anders?” He looked at Invictus anxiously, clearly afraid he’d gotten it wrong.

“Yes! Good, very good!” Vic gave him a big grin and even clapped a bit for him. He repeated the other man’s actions before he pointed to Nathaniel. “Nathaniel.”

“He might find my name rather harder to manage,” shrugged the Warden. Anders glanced up at him, then looked over at Zevran and then Dorian, bewildered.

“I think perhaps he is feeling a little overwhelmed, no?” said Zevran as he watched Anders. “I wonder what happened to him?”

Anders darted a glance back at him, and then suddenly clutched his throat with both hands and made a choking sound.

Invictus reached for his hands and held them gently. “Choked? Did someone…?” Vic mimed the same action as he watched the white-haired Anders for a response.

Anders nodded earnestly. “Anders,” he repeated, then made the choking sound again. Then he made a faint whimpering sound.

“You’re safe now, it’s ok.” Vic said quietly as he reached a hand out to this version of his husband. “Come here.”

Anders crawled into Invictus’ lap and clutched at his shirt as he began to shiver. “Dead,” he said suddenly and unexpectedly. “Dead. Anders dead. Dead.”

“Not dead, not anymore.” Vic wrapped his arms around Anders and held him close. “It’s ok, you’re ok,” he said before he started to stroke the other man’s hair and back to try for calm. 

The others were all staring at Anders in horror and pity. 

“How did he come here?” asked Zevran softly. “Did he - die? In that other Thedas? Did his spirit somehow bring him here?”

“I don’t know,” answered Nathaniel quietly.

“From the way he is reacting, I suspect that _he_ , at least, believes he died,” said Dorian.

“Looking at the mark on his neck, I suspect he did...and Vengeance was the only thing keeping him going. If it wouldn’t send Fenris into a tailspin, I’d say we bring him and have him light his markings,” Vic said as he continued to rock and comfort the other Anders.

“Does he know? That this is Anders?” asked Dorian. “He seemed rather out of it this morning.”

“I am not certain that he was fully aware, no,” said Zevran with a shrug. “He was quite distraught and, I think, more concerned with where Anders - _our_ Anders - was.”

“Considering how he backed into a corner from me, I’d rather not push my luck,” Vic said.

Anders was still murmuring quietly, his fingers clutching tightly to Invictus’ tunic. All the mage could make out clearly was the word “dead”. 

“It’s alright, not dead, not dead.” Vic assured him. “Good Anders, good.”

“Is there anything we can do to try and bring him more out of himself?” said Dorian. “The way he’s behaving now would indicate to me that there’s _some_ sort of self-awareness in there - it just seems rather deeply buried, though it’s evidently slowly emerging. Maybe he’s not completely gone after all - just... very deeply in shock?”

“Maybe when things are calm, and I’ve talked with Fenris we can ask him to try. For now, I don’t know if he wants to see me, let alone another version of Anders that’s like a quarter full cup.” Vic turned to Zevran and Dorian with a tired look. “I’ll stay with him for a while if you need to go.”

“I should go speak to Meneris about this,” said Dorian, his expression serious. “He really needs to know. Though Maker knows what he’ll make of this,” he added, shaking his head. He frowned suddenly. “A thought - I know that our Anders is quite the devout Andrastean; I wonder how this fellow would react if we took him down to the Chantry? After all, that’s where our Anders went to whilst he was in shock, wasn’t it?”

“Best not to overwhelm him with strange experiences just now,” said Nathaniel gruffly. “Anders never did react too well to having too much to deal with all at once when he was already feeling overwhelmed. He was usually a bit of a mess for a day or two whenever we came back from a trip into the Deep Roads, particularly the time we encountered the Broodmother. The less unfamiliar things we expose him to right now, the better. He needs calmness, a routine. Somewhere he feels safe, people he feels safe with.”

“Yeah, give it a couple of days before we try that. Once we get him calmed some more I’ll help you get him get back to your room Nathaniel,” Vic said as he held on to Anders. 

“Perhaps we should start with Hal?” suggested Zevran with a shrug. “At the very least someone should tell Hal that his Anders is alive. And I should send a raven to Arden.”

“As to that, I think you might find Arden already knows,” said Dorian with a frown as he looked at another of the little message scrolls. “Please don’t ask me how - I haven’t quite finished all my calculations yet.”

“What are you talking about?” said Nathaniel.

“Time magic. Tricky stuff, but apparently I’ve already pulled it off - I’m just not entirely sure _how_. Or, indeed, _when_.”

“You shouldn’t be messing around with that stuff Dorian, not again,” Vic said as he tried to get the other Anders to his feet. “Anders, up?”

“But that’s just it,” said Dorian. “It looks like I already _have_ \- which means I have no choice but to go ahead with it, otherwise the consequences of the paradox just wouldn’t bear thinking about.”

Anders obediently got to his feet, still clinging to Invictus though he seemed to have fallen silent.

“I think Zevran probably ought to rest, and so should Anders,” said Nathaniel.

“Zevran has work to do,” disagreed the Antivan as he got to his feet.

“Zevran… you are barely healed, do you want me to tie you to that bed?” Vic asked with a glare for the elf. 

“Mmm, it has possibilities - but no,” shrugged the Antivan. “I have far too much to do; I cannot afford to lay a-bed.” He rose and turned to head towards his desk.

“I’ll be back to see you once we get him settled,” Vic said with a sigh. 

“Do not worry; I shall be here,” shrugged Zevran. “I do not feel so well that I wish to brave those stairs without good reason.” He limped over to the desk and sat down.

Nathaniel groaned. “Oh Maker. We’ve got to get Anders back down those stairs in the dark again.”

“Is that a problem?” asked Dorian.

“He was scared remember?” Vic said as he held on to the mage. “Anders, want to go back?” he asked.

Anders darted a glance at the door that led back downstairs and shivered. “Dark,” he whispered. “Dark. Cold. No. No, no, no....”

“I’ll keep you warm, and safe. It’s ok, really,” Vic said as he held his palm up. “Light?”

Anders stared at Invictus’ hand and then nodded.

“Well, he’s talking more, at least,” said Dorian. “Though mostly to tell us how unhappy he is. But that’s an improvement - right?”

“Pavus, can you not?” sighed Nathaniel. “Yes, he’s scared - Anders has always been afraid of dark, enclosed spaces for as long as I’ve known him.”

“You can make a light too,” Vic said as he started to walk, hand up so Anders could see it as they went. “Nathaniel can you go ahead to watch for any steps in case we stumble?”

“Will do, Hawke,” nodded Nathaniel as he picked up Anders’ dirty clothing and headed down the stairs.

Anders stared fixedly at the light glowing from Invictus’ palm as they headed down the stairs, clutching tight to the other mage’s arm until they emerged into the lighter area of the library. He was quiet as they returned to the rotunda; the moment they entered the room that Anders was sharing with the Warden, the white-haired mage made straight for the bed and curled up upon the end.

“Lie down properly, Anders; you’ll make your back ache if you lie down like that,” said Nathaniel as he tossed the soiled clothes into a laundry hamper. “Thanks for your help, Hawke; it would have been a nightmare trying to get him downstairs by myself. And you seem to have had a positive effect on him, I think - at any rate, he’s talking now, at least a little.”

“A fact which I shall be sure to relay on to Meneris,” nodded Dorian. “I must go; I have much to discuss with him.”

“I’ll come by later, I ...should face Fenris if he’ll see me as well as Anders, our Anders I mean.” Vic said before he turned to go.

Anders suddenly sat up and made an anguished noise.

“Anders?” said Nathaniel, startled, as Invictus glanced back. 

Anders made the distressed sound again, then leapt up and ran to Invictus, grabbing his arm and shaking his head. “No. No, no - no!” he cried.

“I think he doesn’t want me to go,” Invictus suddenly realised.

“Anders, Hawke can’t stay. He’ll be back later. Come on, now, you’re tired. Come and lie down again,” said Nathaniel as he took Anders by the arm and tried to lead the mage back to the bed. Anders began to cry, clinging to Invictus’ arm as the former Champion stared at him helplessly.

Eventually Nathaniel managed to disengage Anders’ hand and dragged him away from Invictus. “Come on, Hawke has to go now. Be a good boy now, alright? He’ll be back later.” 

Invictus retreated to the door, feeling lousy as Anders watched him go with miserable eyes.

“I’ll come back later,” he told the mage helplessly; Nathaniel shook his head at him.

“Go on, I’ll handle him,” said the Warden. “He’ll settle once you’ve gone. He’s just tired and overwhelmed. Go; I’ve got this.”

“If you’re sure,” said Invictus slowly as he backed away.

The sobbing of the bewildered white-haired Anders followed him as he retreated from the rotunda and headed back up the stairs towards the rookery and Zevran.

He had no idea how he was going to explain all this to Fenris.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian miscalculates, both Anders are having a No Good, Very Bad Night, and Invictus' night isn't getting any better either.

Dorian stared at the two small slips of paper. He hadn’t yet shown either one to Meneris; his ideas about time travel had only been little more than idle musing at first until he was faced with evidence that he had evidently taken it far further than mere thought. The Inquisitor’s experiences of time travel - limited though they had been - had shaken Meneris badly, and he’d refused to speak of it ever afterwards. 

Dorian had found the whole experience frustrating; on the one hand, it had been gratifying to see that his theories had been put into effective practice - even more gratifying that Dorian himself had been the one able to bring them both back again, thus wiping out that future timeline and nullifying the risk of any paradox - but deeply annoying that the magics Alexius had used had been wildly unstable. Dorian had no idea how much of that had been down to some flaw in Alexius’ calculations, how much to the existence of the Breach. And Meneris had refused to allow Dorian to question Alexius upon the subject before executing the magister. Dorian had argued vociferously against Alexius’ death; he’d been apprenticed under the man, after all, and Gereon Alexius, his wife and his son Felix had done much for him when his own father had turned against him. They had taken him in when he turned up on their doorstep, hysterical and bleeding, after barely escaping his father’s planned blood ritual with his sanity and mind intact, and it was with their help he’d managed to flee Tevinter. Quite aside from his personal feelings for the man however, Dorian had been vehemently opposed to the criminal waste of Alexius’ wealth of knowledge and experience.

So he’d never had the chance to discuss the flaws in Alexius’ magic with the man himself before that opportunity was denied him forever. He’d often wondered if it had been his own calculations that had been in error, but he’d had no opportunity to return to his research into the matter.

And yet now it seemed that not only had he returned to it, he’d actually _done_ it.

He’d mentioned to Meneris the change in the strange Anders; his husband had been quite preoccupied with the matter and called Cullen in to discuss the matter. Dorian found it hard to concentrate on the discussion however, and after dinner he’d excused himself to come to his room and distract himself by going through his notes on Fenris’ Fade-stepping abilities and putting them in order. He needed to write up his own theories and discoveries on the making of portals into something approaching a proper paper; he’d had some idle thought of submitting it to the Circle in Minrathous - particularly his own musings on the possibility of reproducing such travel, perhaps a modification of the limited Fade-step spell he’d utilised himself often on the battlefield to put himself temporarily out of harm’s reach or behind an opponent. But as he’d gone through his papers, he found another possibility suggesting itself to him.

He lost track of time as he went over his notes, drawing a few spare sheets of paper to himself as he dipped his quill in the ink and then began to rapidly scrawl calculations and formulae, his mind working feverishly as he pulled a couple of books towards himself and leafed through them for the charts and diagrams he needed then jotting down additional notes. It was late into the night when he finally sat back and stared down at what he’d written and suddenly grinned.

“Yes - yes, that _has_ to be the answer! So absurdly simple - why didn’t I see that before?”

He got to his feet and began to pace. He ought to take this to Meneris, discuss it - but the urge to take his discovery that one step further and actually try it was too irresistible. He halted his pacing and stared at the papers.

“And why not?” he pondered aloud. “After all, if it works, I can always come back.”

Hastily, Dorian gathered together the reagents needed. He paused, his fingers dancing over a vial of lyrium, and then decisively he plucked it from his small box of potions. “Can’t hurt,” he shrugged as he popped the cork off with his thumb. “Bottoms up,” he murmured before downing it.

He could feel the tingling rush of power as it hit his stomach and he smiled. He didn’t think he’d need the extra mana, but one could never be too cautious about such things.

He shook out his arms then ran his hands through his hair before he exhaled sharply then began to call up the magic. A modification of his Fade-stepping spell, he crafted it and reached out to the Fade, grasping the Veil and twisting it just _so_ as he created a portal - just like the ones he crafted with Fenris, only this time powered and opened from his spell, not Fenris’ powers. He focused his mind on the memory of his bedroom in his parents’ home in Qarinus, firmly holding in mind the position of the stars over Qarinus as they would have been a week ago; and then the portal snapped into existence.

He had the satisfaction of seeing his childhood bedroom through the portal and grinned. “Simple, really!” he laughed, and stepped through. He felt drained and yet exultant as he turned slowly in a circle; his old room was exactly as he’d left it that fateful night he’d escaped his father’s plans and fled, never to return - until now.

He glanced over at the door and took a step - and then halted as he felt something wet trickle from his nose and run down over his lips to drip from his chin. He glanced down, startled, and lifted a hand to dab at the blood which had begun to run from his nose. He felt suddenly dizzy and cold, a burning pain in his chest. He took another step and nearly fell as the room canted about him.

No, this was wrong - this wasn’t supposed to happen. What was going on? He reached for his mana and felt it drained and empty, and suddenly he realised what had happened.

He’d miscalculated the amount of power it would take to cast a spell of that immensity. He’d burned clean through his mana and the one vial of lyrium he’d taken had been nowhere near enough; deprived of mana, the spell had begun to eat away at his own life force. 

Dorian Pavus had made a very, very bad mistake.

***

Anders stirred and opened his eyes. Something had woken him. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he felt it again - an unmistakable surge of power and magic. His eyes widened as the sheer force of the magic being wielded became apparent.

His body ached; he felt exhausted, his limbs heavy and his joints painful. He didn’t think he was capable of moving far. His thoughts were muddled and sluggish; it felt like he were trying to think through cotton wool. Something had happened - something bad; he couldn’t quite remember what though.

He managed to sit up with difficulty, and stared around the room dazedly. It took him far too long to work out why the room seemed unfamiliar; it was Fenris’ room. It was lit only by the glowing embers of the dying fire; enough light for him to see the two cots in the room beside the bed - Ellowynne asleep in one, Pin in the other. Whatever it was that had awakened him, it hadn’t disturbed the two girls from their sleep; nor Fenris, who slept on exhausted beside him.

He tried to remember why he was in Fenris’ room and not his own, but his memory seemed hazy and foggy. Something had happened, but he was at a loss to recall why. He thought he ought to be troubled by that. It bothered him more that he wasn’t.

He threw aside the covers and reached for his staff, using it to lever himself up to his feet, and then instantly regretted it as the room slowly spun. He swallowed hard against the wave of pain that rolled through him. He’d been hurt, he realised; as he put a hand to his throat, he could feel the soft linen of a bandage wound around his neck, and he could feel a dull ache all through his body as though he’d been squeezed in a vice. He reached instinctively inside and blinked as he realised the extent of the damage inside his body. “Squeezed in a vice” was an apt analogy, he mused; he recognised the signs of extensive internal trauma only barely half-healed. Some sort of Force magic, most likely. He reached for his healing magic, but the damage resisted him; he frowned. Inflicted by blood magic then; injuries caused by magic fuelled by blood sacrifice were always so much harder to heal. Really, it was a wonder he was alive at all.

His thoughts were still sluggish, his memory an almost-troubling blank. He gave up trying to mentally wrestle with it and instead decided to find out the cause of that immensely powerful flare of magic he’d felt.

He was glad whoever had put him in Fenris’ bed had left him dressed; he didn’t think he could have managed it in his current state. The flagstone floor of the hallway was chill against his bare feet, but he wasn’t about to attempt to pull his boots on. He stumbled slowly on, glad of the support of his staff; he found himself leaning against the wall for additional support. His legs felt like lead as he pushed himself on, though it seemed to wear off a little the longer he remained upright. His throat felt sore; he touched the linen bandage briefly. He could feel the burn of cuts across the front of his throat but had no recollection of how they’d gotten there; only a vague memory of a voice saying the words “little wolf”; someone else screaming his name. A crushing pain in his chest; the taste of blood in his mouth, its scent in the air.

He pushed himself on.

The flare of magic had come from the direction of the library, he thought. He made his way towards the rotunda, his eyes on the flagstones as he stumbled onwards. He was very tired; the thought of retreating to his bed again was very tempting, but he was closer to the library now than Fenris’ room, and his own room was even further away.

He made it as far as the stairs and had to sit down suddenly, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him.

“An... Anders?”

The voice was familiar - unnervingly familiar - but as Anders lifted his head, his eyesight blurred and he found it hard to focus on the white-haired man standing before him. “Fenris?” he guessed.

But no; the voice was too high and light - a soft tenor, not a low baritone rumble. The stranger rested a hand on his shoulder. “Anders.”

He looked up into his own face.

**

Fenris awoke with a start from a nightmare; Anders cradled in Invictus’ arms, his throat gashed open, eyes blank in death as the mage chuckled. “Little wolf!” He gasped out Anders’ name as he sat up and turned, and then stared horrified at the empty space where Anders should have lain sleeping.

He leapt from the bed and tugged on his leggings before he leaned over his daughter, shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes instantly and sat up. “Father? What -”

“Hush - do not awaken Ellowynne,” Fenris cautioned her quietly. “Anders is gone.”

Her eyes widened. “Gone? Where?”

“I do not know. Stay here with the Imp - I shall go look for him,” replied Fenris. She nodded.

Fenris snatched up his sword and headed out to search for his missing mage. 

There seemed to be a general uproar in the keep - particularly coming from the direction of the library; it seemed as good a place as any to start, so he headed in that direction to find the hallways, stairs and library ablaze with light and what seemed a veritable crowd of people clustered around the foot of the stairs and on the mezzanine of the library itself. The Inquisitor stood at the top of the stairs leading to the mezzanine, shouting orders with a face like thunder, and several people were gathered around something at the bottom of the stairs. As Fenris glanced up, he saw Hal squeeze past the Inquisitor to hurry down the stairs as Nathaniel called for people to keep back.

“Give him some air - back away now!” the Warden roared.

Fenris pushed his way past the throng to find Anders sprawled upon the steps in a dead faint, his head in Zevran’s lap as the Antivan gently stroked the dark gold hair away from the mage’s closed eyes.

“Has anyone seen Dorian?” bellowed Meneris.

“What in the Void happened?” Fenris said as he came to Zevran’s side. “Why are you out of bed, why is _he_ out of bed _carissimi_?” 

“I am out of bed because something disturbed the ravens,” replied Zevran. “I came down to investigate and found him thus; I do not know what brought him here.”

“Let me through,” Hal said breathlessly. “Zevran? You shouldn’t be down here; your leg isn’t healed properly. Let me check Anders. Maker, I never felt such powerful magic in my life before.” He crouched down next to Anders and laid a hand on the unconscious mage’s forehead.

“Anders...come on, please open your eyes,” Fenris said as he took his hand. 

“Where is Dorian?” Meneris repeated, his gaze alight on every place that wasn’t occupied by onlookers. “Spread out and find him.”

“That’s... odd,” said Hal, his voice hushed. “A few hours ago he wasn’t capable of healing himself - but now there’s far less internal damage than there was earlier - yet his mana isn’t drained at all, from what I can tell. Then - who cast that magic? And what was it?”

Nathaniel stared down at Anders, then glanced at Zevran who had looked up at the Warden; a look passed between them, and Nathaniel withdrew and disappeared into what had been Solas’ room.

“Come on, please open your eyes!” Fenris asked as he started to feel panicked.

Anders groaned faintly as he at last opened his eyes dazedly. “Fenris? Where am I?” He stared at the group of people crowded around him in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Fenris caught himself before he tugged Anders to his arms and snarled at them all to back off. “You got up on your own, and I came out to find you faint love. What made you wake up?”

Meneris was getting worked up when no one could find his husband, his every glance hopeful for dark curls and a wry smile. When no one could give him answers, he went off to the magister’s quarters, hopeful he would find him or a clue. 

He found Dorian’s room in wild disarray, books and papers scattered everywhere. The magister’s desk was covered in sheets of notes, all covered in a scrawl of calculations and notes in Dorian’s handwriting. Pots of reagents were scattered here and there, including a dish of orichalcum half-spilled across a page of notes on which Dorian appeared to have been working out something astronomical; as Meneris stared around the mess in bewilderment, something crunched beneath his boot. He lifted his foot and stared down at the shattered remains of what looked like an empty lyrium vial. There was a scent of ozone in the air; of the magister himself however, there was no sign.

“Dorian….what have you done?” Meneris said as he sank to the bed, worried for where...or _no, he wouldn’t have done that...again... would he?_ thought the elf as he looked around the room as a terrible thought came to him.

As he emerged in a daze from Dorian’s room, he could hear Anders weakly answering Fenris.

“It was a pulse of magic - something incredibly strong. It came from the direction of the library.” He groaned quietly. “Why do I feel so weak? My memory seems so - hazy. Did I hit my head or something? Were we attacked?”

“You don’t remember?” Fenris asked before he looked to Zevran. 

“Trauma can affect the memory sometimes,” said Hal quietly.

“Rest easy, dear heart,” Zevran told Anders gently. “You are perhaps still in shock. Do you remember us all going out onto the mountainside?”

“Vaguely - something about a demon?” murmured Anders. “The past few days seem very indistinct and confusing. Something about - blood magic?”

Zevran nodded. “There was - an attack. You were used as a blood sacrifice. Your... attacker, he tried to attack Ellowynne. You stepped in front of the attack meant for her.”

“Ellowynne? My daughter?” exclaimed Anders, trying to sit up. “Is she alright? What happened - where is she?”

“Easy, my heart - she is well and took no harm. You took the damage meant for her,” said Zevran as he pressed Anders back down again. 

“She’s in my room, along with Pin. You were sleeping there before… you came out to check this disturbance. Come along, we’ll go back and you can see that she’s safe,” Fenris said as he stood and frowned at how Zevran grimaced in pain, no matter how quickly he hid it.

“There was someone else... a man with white hair,” said Anders as Zevran and Hal helped him to his feet. “He had my face... or did I dream that?” He put a hand to his head and swayed. “I think I must have hit my head when I fell; I feel so dizzy.”

“More likely the shock - possibly blood loss,” said Hal. “Come on, we need to get you back to bed.”

Zevran caught himself on the stair rail and bit his lip against a sudden flare of pain in his leg; he lowered himself back down to the stair again, suddenly dizzy himself. “Go on ahead; I will follow in a moment,” he said quietly.

Fenris frowned at that. “Hal, can you manage Anders? I’m going to carry him to the infirmary. So help me if you fight me on this…” He trailed off when he realized how pale the other elf had gone. “ _Carissimi…._ ”

“I’ll help you Hal, then I need to keep searching for Dorian...he wasn’t in his room either and I have a suspicion as to where he might be,” Meneris said as he joined the red-headed mage.

“Wait - that burst of magic was Dorian?” exclaimed Hal, his eyes widening. “Because it certainly wasn’t me - so if it wasn’t Anders...!”

“No, it wasn’t Anders,” said Nathaniel heavily as he re-emerged from Solas’ room. “It came from directly over my room.”

“That had to be Dorian,” said Hal quietly. “His room is almost directly beneath mine, right next to the library.” He stared at Nathaniel. “But how did _you_ know? You’re not a mage.”

“Wait,” said Anders querulously. “If Dorian’s missing, and Nathaniel is standing right in front of us, then why can I feel another warden nearby? Unless you’ve taken to keeping a pet darkspawn whilst I wasn’t looking, Nate? ... no... wait... definitely a warden, though not anyone I recognise.”

“It’s... another warden,” Nathaniel nodded. “In a manner of speaking.” He glanced warily at Fenris. “You’re not going to like it,” he added. “Invictus is... keeping him calm.”

“Keeping who calm? Why is Invictus even...why isn’t….” Fenris trailed off as he tried to think of who the Warden Commander could be speaking of. “Nathaniel, is he who we might think he is?” the elf asked. 

“Don’t go in there, Fenris,” said Nathaniel as he shook his head. “You don’t want to see him like this, trust me.”

Hal was staring at Nathaniel with a confused expression, but Anders had gone, if anything, even paler than before.

“No. That’s not possible. He’s dead,” he said flatly.

“ _Was_ dead,” corrected Nathaniel. “And you don’t want to see what’s left.”

“Anders. You’re talking about my Anders, aren’t you?” said Hal faintly, his face almost as white as that of the blond mage. “He died in Kirkwall.”

Nathaniel sighed and stared at the ground. “Yes, he did. And trust me, Hal - you don’t want to see him how he is now.”

“What do you mean _was dead?_ people don’t just come ba--” Meneris glanced at Hal and fell silent. 

Fenris had gotten to his feet and was heading for the warden’s room without another word. 

“Fenris, trust me - you really don’t want to do this!” said Nathaniel desperately as he placed himself in the doorway, obstructing the elf’s path. “Please. It’s for your own good. Look - Zevran needs your help, he looks about a hair’s-breadth away from passing out, Anders isn’t much better, and I think Hal could use a stiff drink before we discuss this any further. Please.”

“Out of my way,” Fenris snarled. 

“Fenris, don’t, please. You haven’t even taken time for yourself to recover from earlier. Do you want to send yourself into shock by seeing him?” Meneris asked as he kept Anders upright.

“I... I want to see him,” said Hal faintly. “Please. Let me see him.”

Nathaniel clung to the door frame, bracing himself across the doorway. He was well aware that he had no real hope of standing against the taller elf if Fenris were really determined to force his way in, but he hoped the elf might be reasoned with.

“Fenris, his - his mind is almost totally gone. Look at Anders - _your_ Anders - and imagine him unable to talk, to reason, to - to do anything for himself, a blank slate, not recognising you, little better than a dog. Is that what you want to see? Trust me. You don’t want to walk in this room.”

Hal gasped and then swayed. “No. No, not - not my Anders. Oh, no....”

“Maker’s breath,” Nathaniel swore to himself. “Hal. Sit down before you fall over. Fenris, please - go to Hal. He needs you. Not the man in the room behind me - the flesh-and-blood boy beside you; _he_ needs you.”

Fenris stared at Nathaniel for a while before he stepped back, sorrowful before he went to Hal and steered him towards his room. He was torn between wanting to help Hal, get Zevran more healing or making sure Anders didn’t fall flat on his face. “Come on, we’re going to my room then I’m getting Zevran to the infirmary.” 

Meneris kept his mouth shut as he kept a steadying arm around Anders and fell in with the taller elf.

“I think I shall wait here,” Zevran remarked quietly. Nathaniel merely nodded at him, not moving from his place in the doorway.

As Fenris guided Hal past Nathaniel, he couldn’t help himself; he glanced over the archer’s shoulder, and a flash of white hair caught his eye.

A man who looked the spitting image of Anders sat on the floor near Invictus’ feet wearing only a pair of charcoal grey pants. He was so emaciated that Fenris could have counted every rib even from clear across the room; what had him stumbling to a halt however was not that, or the tousled white hair that fell about the man’s shoulders. It was the vacant smile as he stared at his hands.

The elf stopped, unable to tear his gaze away from this shell of a man that was another version of _his_ Anders. He nearly took Hal down as he turned and advanced on Nathaniel again, uncaring if he had to shove the Warden out of his way.

Nathaniel braced himself but Fenris forced himself forward; at the last moment, Nathaniel was forced to step aside or be bowled over by the elf.

“I warned you,” said the Warden in a low voice. “On your own head be it.”

The white-haired Anders stared at his hands, absorbed, as though he’d only just noticed them. He didn’t look up until Fenris was almost on top of him; he lifted his eyes, and then slowly gave Fenris a dreamy smile. 

The elf sat down by the other Anders, unsure what to say or do now that he’d met him. “An...Anders?” he finally said, not even noting Invictus’ presence.

“He’s in a bad way Fenris, he can barely say his name and even that much is a surprise,” Invictus said.

The strange Anders smiled at Fenris still. “Anders,” he echoed, then patted his scrawny chest. “Anders.”

Fenris tried to keep himself together, and not give in to the urge to scream and yell about how it was unfair. He felt something wasn’t right, not just this broken man before him but with how he felt drawn to him. He finally tapped his own chest and said his name, unsure if the strange Anders would get it.

“Love, you should probably go before he upsets you too much. He’s harmless, like a puppy and it’s hard but he might get attached and not understand when you need to go,” Invictus warned him.

The strange Anders’ smile had fallen as he stared at Fenris. “Fenris gone,” he said sadly. “Anders dead.” He lowered his head.

Hal dropped to his knees in the doorway. “It’s true then. They were both dead. Then... where... where is my Fenris?”

“Fenris dead,” the white-haired Anders said softly, then began to cry.

“I’m not dead,” replied the elf as he glanced at Hal, then at the crying man. “Don’t cry, you’re not dead.” Fenris’ brands had lit as he reached out to do ...something to comfort him.

The white-haired mage stared at Fenris’ lit brands with round eyes. He lifted a hand and touched Fenris’ outstretched hand with a look of wonder, and then cried out. 

Fenris had a sudden flash of memories not his own. The Gallows in Kirkwall - blood on the stones, fire in the sky, shouts and screams. Hands pinning his arms to his sides, forcing him onwards; staring up to the archway over the entrance to the Gallows - to the noose hanging there. The noose around his throat, tightening, choking him as he was hoisted into the air, feet kicking helplessly as he gasped futilely, chest burning, his struggles weakening. Blackness, then cold, floating in darkness -

Fenris gasped as he came back to himself and heard a frantic wheezing and gasping; he jerked his head up to see the strange Anders had shrunk away from him, eyes wide in terror, his hands clasped around his own throat as he desperately fought for breath.

The elf pulled Anders’ hands from his throat and let his brands dim. “Don’t ... it’s ok, you’re ok. Not choking,” Fenris said quietly as he kept the other man still but didn’t tighten his grip. “Not dead”

“Love, he keeps doing that when we talk about him ...his death. I think he understands but can’t use words to explain. What happened when you lit up?” Invictus asked.

“Saw ... his memory of being hung,” replied the elf.

The strange Anders was staring at him fearfully, silent now; but Fenris could still hear the choking sound. It took him a moment to realise it was coming from behind him.

“Anders! Stop him - Meneris, what’s he doing?” Nathaniel was demanding in a frightened voice, whilst Zevran was urgently begging Anders to calm down before he hurt himself. As Invictus glanced up and Fenris twisted to look back over his shoulder, they could see their Anders clutching at his own throat as Meneris and Nathaniel tried to wrench his hands away, Anders’ eyes fluttering closed before his knees gave way.

Fenris turned back to the Anders he was holding, his eyes wide. “What is happening here?” he said as he stared at the white haired mage. 

“Let him go, you’re scaring him love,” Invictus said as he rose to help with their Anders.

“Scaring him?” breathed the elf as he let go. 

Zevran had caught Anders as he slumped towards the floor, unconscious; he was struggling to keep both himself and the blond mage upright as Meneris tried to help them both. Hal had fainted dead away; Nathaniel stared between the two unconscious men, not certain which one to try and help.

Vic came out to help with Anders as he gently nudged Meneris towards helping Zevran. “I’ve got him, Nathaniel, get Hal if you’d please? We’ll take him to Fenris’ room. I just hope to the Maker we don’t frighten anyone left in there.” 

“Of course.” Meneris shifted over to help Zevran. “Apologies for being so familiar with you but you can barely stand up.”

Zevran leaned against the wall, clutching at his thigh with a faint grimace of pain. “I will appreciate the touch, though perhaps not as much as I might if I were in less discomfort, my friend,” he managed to smile, though his voice was faint. 

The white-haired Anders crawled forward into Fenris’ lap and curled up, shivering, as he rubbed his head against Fenris’ chest. “Cold. Dark. Lost,” he murmured forlornly. “Anders dead. Alone.”

“Not alone, not dead,” Fenris said as he found himself with a lap full of other Anders. “Not lost anymore, we’ll help.” he said quietly.

“I guess you’d best bring him too, Fenris,” said Nathaniel as he hefted up Hal in his arms. “Perhaps we should just take everyone to the infirmary, except I’m not sure our white-haired friend will handle too much unfamiliarity right now.”

“I’ll stay with him for now. Someone go and get Pin and Ellowynne from my room so they know what’s going on,” Fenris said as he held the other Anders, tried to comfort him. “He’s shaking.”

“He’s terrified,” shrugged Nathaniel. “I suspect every time we mention what happened to him, he’s reliving it somewhat. This is all strange and unfamiliar, and right now he’s got the mental faculties of a very young child. I’ll get Hal to the infirmary, we’ll get Zevran settled, and then we’ll be back shortly.”

Zevran leaned against Meneris’ support and regarded the warrior with a rueful smile. “I keep running into the most magnificent elven warriors wherever I go, and you are all always taller than I am,” he mused. “I would almost feel I have to find some way to compensate if I were not so devilishly handsome myself.”

“My sword is taller than you, and I think you terrify Dorian a bit too much for him to let you ask for a bit of fun.” Meneris quipped as they went. 

Fenris waved them off, grateful when the door shut and he could sit without an audience of gawkers.

Invictus rolled his eyes at Zevran’s flirtations, a sign the elf was on the mend if he could do so with everything going on.

Zevran was grinning drowsily at the Inquisitor, his footsteps stumbling. “Now, why would the good magister be afraid of little old Zevran?” he mused. “Invictus will tell you I am not so frightening as that.”

“You, serah are out of your head right now. You forget how you made him shriek?” Meneris shot back.

“I did?” Zevran sounded startled; then he chuckled, a low, almost filthy sound. “Oh, so I did - when I first arrived? Hmm, I seem to have a knack of making an impression whilst the worse for wear, do I not? Upon that occasion I believe I was sporting arrow wounds courtesy of a certain Prince Vael - a fact which your guards were not aware of, to judge by the less than gentle way they greeted me.”

“Not quite what I meant, but never you mind, Zevran, let’s get you seen to,” Meneris said.

“Now I see why Fenris used to drink before noon in Kirkwall,” Vic muttered as they made their way down the hall.

“We were _all_ drinking before noon in the Wardens,” remarked Nathaniel. “Then again, it was the only way to keep up with Oghren. How Anders used to keep pace with him I’ll never know. Making up for lost time I guess.”

“In Antiva we drink wine before noon because it is safer than anything else,” shrugged Zevran, stumbling and leaning more heavily into Meneris’ support. “Antivan wine is mother’s milk to us - and probably safer than that, too. But it is nothing to our brandy.” He sighed. “I should like some brandy,” he mused pensively as his footsteps slowed.

“Not until we get you seen by a healer, last thing we need is you drunk and injured,” Vic said as he cursed internally at not yet being at the infirmary. “Who the Void decided the damned infirmary should be so far away?”

“This isn’t the way to my room,” said Anders drowsily as he lifted his head and stared at Invictus, bewildered. “This is -” He suddenly froze, his eyes widening. “No,” he whispered. “Please - no....” He shivered, staring at the other mage, as memories suddenly came flooding back - the knife at his throat, the feeling of it slicing into his flesh; the pull of blood magic at his life force, being used to hurt Fenris - being turned against his daughter.

Invictus came to a halt as he realised Anders was awake - and terrified of him. “Love?” he said cautiously. “It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Please, do what you like to me - only don’t hurt my daughter or Fenris,” whispered Anders. “I don’t care what happens to me, only promise you’ll let them be!”

“Anders, I’m not going to hurt them - _or_ you, love,” said Invictus slowly. He very carefully set Anders’ feet down on the ground and helped him to stand, then backed away, his hands raised to show they were empty.

Anders slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes as he tugged the bandage around his neck loose then tilted his head back, baring his throat. “Go ahead - do it,” he murmured in a tone of resignation. “Finish what you started. I won’t fight you. My life for theirs.”

Invictus backed away and glanced to the others.

“Anders... it’s Hawke. He’s not going to hurt you or anyone else,” said Nathaniel quietly. 

“My heart... no-one will harm you or the little one,” said Zevran, straightening a little with a wince. “You are not yourself perhaps, hmm? Come. Let us go to the infirmary.”

Anders opened his eyes slowly as he gazed at Invictus, who wrung his hands and looked grief-stricken.

“Love, I’m... I’m sorry, so so sorry - please, it’s really me. What can I do to show you I’m not - not _him_? Please, I just want to make sure you’re OK,” begged Invictus. His heart felt like it would break as he watched Anders surrendering himself - as he thought - to Danarius, after what he’d already been through. “I swear I will never hurt you again. It’s me, Vic - not anyone or anything else. I’m not going to do anything to you. You’re sick, injured, and I’m worried for you love.”

“Oh... that’s good,” Anders laughed weakly. “I’m worried for me too.” He slowly slid down the wall until he was sat on the floor, his back to the cold stone, then he drew his knees up as he wrapped his arms around himself and began to sob weakly. “I can’t do this any more,” he moaned. “I just can’t. I’m tired, and I hurt, and I don’t know who to trust and I just can’t do this.”

“Love -” began Invictus, taking a step towards Anders, but Nathaniel shook his head.

“Here, take Hal and go on ahead,” said the Warden quietly. “Leave Anders to me. I’ve dealt with him before in this state.”

“And you think I haven’t?” growled Invictus.

“Not when you’ve been the cause of it, no,” replied Nathaniel. “Just trust me - I know how to handle him.”

“It would be for the best, my love,” nodded Zevran as Invictus glanced to him.

“It feels wrong to leave him,” said Invictus hopelessly as he took Hal from Nathaniel.

“I know,” nodded Nathaniel. “But just believe me - it’s for the best right now.” He patted Invictus on the shoulder before moving to crouch down next to Anders, who had buried his face in his arms and was quietly crying.

Meneris helped Zevran to limp past Anders, nodding to Invictus to keep moving. The former Champion gave Anders one last miserable look then turned and carried on walking towards the infirmary, carrying Hal.

“I just want it to all stop, Nate,” wept Anders.

“I know, Anders,” said Nathaniel gently as he sat down next to Anders and wrapped a warm, comforting arm around the slender mage. “You’ve had a bit of a bugger of a week, you’re tired and in pain, and you just want a bit of peace and quiet for once.”

Anders let Nathaniel tug him closer and he rested his head on the Warden’s shoulder as he sobbed quietly. “That’s it, just let it out,” said Nathaniel gently.

“Wh-when did _you_ become so - so damned reasonable and all-knowing?” gasped Anders wretchedly. Nathaniel chuckled quietly.

“Must have been around the time they decided to make me Warden Commander, for my sins,” he mused.

“You? Warden Commander? They must have been desperate,” Anders scoffed through his tears.

“Well, it was me or Oghren, and I guess they figured at least they had a reasonable chance of me staying sober,” Nathaniel shrugged. “And after all, with Stroud gone to Weisshaupt and Solona dead, one of us had to take over. And how about you then - Grand Enchanter Anders?”

“Oh, don’t,” groaned Anders.”I never asked for it; I just wasn’t really given any chance to refuse. I thought I’d managed to finally free myself from that and then all of this happened and I - I just can’t keep doing this, Nathaniel. I’m not as young as I once was - I’m tired, and I just want a chance to live in peace for however long I have left to me before my Calling. A few years’ peace with my loved ones - was it too much to ask?” He looked at Nathaniel tearily. “Because I really don’t think it was.”

“No, it wasn’t, Anders,” said Nathaniel softly as he lifted a hand and brushed a stray lock of dark gold hair out of Anders’ red eyes. “If anyone’s earned a little peace and happiness, it’s you.”

Anders closed his eyes and sighed sadly. “I’m afraid of him, Nate,” he said softly. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to trust him again.”

“Too early to worry about that yet,” said Nathaniel calmly. “Right now you just need to concentrate on rest and getting well again. Your daughter still needs you. Just give things time.”

“I’m cold, Nate,” sighed Anders, his eyes still closed. 

“Do you want me to carry you to the infirmary?” asked the archer softly; Anders shook his head.

“No, I just want to sleep,” he murmured. 

“You can’t sleep here, Anders,” said Nathaniel with a shrug.

“Where’s my daughter?” asked Anders, drowsily.

“In Fenris’ room, I think he said,” replied Nathaniel. “Come on, let’s have you on your feet and I’ll take you there, alright?”

“Alright,” Anders sighed. “Stay with me?”

“For as long as you need me,” Nathaniel promised. He pressed a light kiss to the top of Anders’ head, then helped the exhausted mage to his feet as Anders shivered. Then slowly they began walking back towards Fenris’ room.

***

Callus had dropped down once Fenris had bolted out of the room and nearly wound up frozen to the floor for surprising his sibling as she jumped and instinctively reached for her ice magic. “Easy Pin, it’s just me.” 

Pin exhaled and rolled her eyes as she straightened, shaking shards of ice off her hands. “You idiot,” she hissed. “With everything that’s been going on, did it not occur to you that maybe startling me would be a bad idea?”

“You’re usually better at not letting me startle you sister. Good aim,” he added as he stared at the frosted section of carpet right where he’d landed. “If I wasn’t used to your tell I’d be having a bad day,” he mused as he slipped past Ellowynne and poured them a glass of wine. “How are you, the truth?”

Pin darted a glance at the sleeping child, then took a seat on the end of her father’s bed. “Truth? I’m scared, Cal. More scared than I think I ever was back in Tevinter. You - you didn’t see what happened in that room. You didn’t see - Anders, the look in his eyes, he was going to die for us and - and I couldn’t do anything, even Father couldn’t do anything! Invictus - he was possessed, and he was using Anders’ blood and - and I’ve never felt magic that strong and I’m _scared_ , Cal!” She choked back a sob.

“Easy Pin, I’ve got you. Fenris isn’t going to ever let someone hurt you if he can help it. Or should I say daddy?” Cal said as he passed her a wine glass. “He’d die for us, I heard he even begged for your life and hers.”

“He begged for all our lives - mine, Wynne, and Anders. He knelt and called him ‘domne’, begged him to let Anders go. But he - Invictus, he - he c-cut An-Anders’ th-throat and he -” She broke off as the tears came again, remembering the look in Anders’ eyes as the mage seemed to resign himself to death if it meant they would live - and how none of it seemed to matter or make a difference.

“Well if that doesn’t convince you he cares about us, nothing will. Come here Pin, you know you can let go with me right?” Callus said as he tugged her to his arms. “I love you sister, and if he’d hurt you, they’d be grieving for their First Enchanter right now.”

“You idiot, you’re not listening to me!” she cried as she beat her fists against his chest. “You stupid great lunk - _where were you??_ He _hurt_ me, Cal - he used Anders’ blood and he hurt me, and he threw me against the wall and he nearly killed Wynne, only Anders stood in the way and took the hit and he nearly _died_ , and _damn you WHERE WERE YOU??_ ” She screamed at him even as he caught her wrists to restrain her. She collapsed against him, weeping, as Ellowynne rolled over and sleepily protested.

“I didn’t know Pin, I’m sorry I didn’t know until after it was over. I sat with you in the infirmary, I was there after but you were still out of it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Callus said as he folded his arms around her. “Forgive me, someday.”

“He hurt Zevran too - I was already out of it, but I remember Zevran jumping over me as I fell, and when I woke up he was on the floor by Anders and the room was a mess. Glass everywhere, blood, and I honestly thought they were all dead except Wynne, Invictus and the weird dirty man in the corner,” Pin sniffed. 

“Is...is Zevran alright?” Callus asked quietly.

“I don’t know, he was hurt pretty bad but he refused to go to the infirmary,” said Pin, scrubbing at her tears with her hand. “He stayed in the room with Invictus - he was able to walk, sort of, but he was limping pretty badly and he was a real mess. Invictus was just crying like a big baby but Father, the Inquisitor and I were more worried about Anders - he just sort of... switched off. Like there was no-one there.”

“Hopefully they’ll be back soon and it will be before that little one wakes up and finds her dad gone again,” Callus replied just as the door started to open. He tugged Pin behind him and unsheathed one of his daggers. “Be ready.”

The door swung open and Nathaniel wrestled Anders in, the blond mage pretty much out on his feet. The bandage that had earlier been wound around his throat was now hanging loose around his neck; as Nathaniel gave up trying to coax Anders to take another step and instead simply swept the blond man up into his arms, Anders’ head dropped back and Callus got a clear view of the mess of wounds around the enchanter’s throat.

Anders groaned, and Nathaniel made a soft, soothing noise. “It’s OK, we’ll have you in bed in a minute,” he murmured as he swung around then halted, staring at Callus and Pin.

“Hey, kid,” the Warden said carefully. “You want to put that pigsticker down and perhaps give me a hand? Pin - get the bedcovers would you? It _is_ Pin, isn’t it? Sorry, we didn’t really have much chance to talk earlier.”

“Don’t call me kid, and we’ll be fine.” Callus sheathed his weapon and moved to help the dark-haired archer with Anders. “Go on Pin, let’s get him settled, then wake Imp so she can see her dad.”

“Better to let her sleep,” shrugged Nathaniel as he laid Anders gently in the bed. “He’s in a bit of a state. Waking up in Hawke’s arms after he fainted probably didn’t do him much good. Maker’s sakes, this week is for the dogs, I swear.”

“What happened? Apart from someone thinking it was a good idea to let Invictus Hawke anywhere near the man whose throat he’d tried to slit?” demanded Pin fiercely. She tugged the covers up to Anders’ chest then smoothed them gently as Anders opened his eyes and stared up at her. “Master?”

“Just tired, Pin,” he sighed. “Very tired.”

“It’s a mess,” Nathaniel shook his head. “Your father insisted on barging in to see the other Anders and - did something, we’re still not sure what. Next thing I know, the other Anders is clutching his throat - as is Anders, and down Anders goes. Hal was on the floor, Zevran was already halfway there, and frankly I wasn’t sure which one to pick up first. Invictus grabbed Anders, I grabbed Hal, and the Inquisitor got Zevran. Your father is still with the other Anders.”

“Why? What is it about that other Anders that made him stay?” Callus asked as he watched Nathaniel. 

“I don’t know,” shrugged Nathaniel. “The other Anders crawled into his lap, crying, and - well, I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t leave him alone. So one of us had to stay with him, and I guess he sort of picked your father.”

“He’s supposed to be dead,” Anders said listlessly. “He _was_ dead, the poor bastard. The moment Fenris lit up and touched him, I suddenly couldn’t breathe - felt like there was a noose around my throat. I passed out, and when I woke up he had me again - Invictus. I thought he was going to finish what he’d started this morning.” He closed his eyes. “I told him to get it over with. I’m tired of this. I just want it all to be over and my little girl to be safe.”

“ _Venhedis_ ,” Callus uttered as he watched Pin’s reaction. “I think we should have a word with Invictus before he tries to talk to you or father again.” 

Pin’s eyes had widened as Anders spoke, and she reached out and caught Anders’ hand, squeezing it between both of her own. “Please, don’t give yourself up like that!” she pleaded. 

Anders’ eyes opened and he stared at her, startled. “Pin?” he murmured. 

“Grand Enchanter Anders, I hope you are more yourself now?” Callus said softly.

“As much as I can be after everything that’s happened,” replied Anders, pushing himself up a little on the pillows. “When this is all over, I am mightily tempted to take Ellowynne on a long trip somewhere blissfully quiet and boring. Nowhere near castles, or assassins - except the one I’m married to - or Tevinter magisters, or - or dragons, or darkspawn, or anything like that. Maybe Nevarra - no, wait, they have dragons there, don’t they?”

Nathaniel folded his arms as Anders rambled on. “Antiva has too many assassins. Not Orlais - smelly cheeses and too many damned templars. Not the Free Marches - too close to Sebastian. Better avoid the Anderfels - too cold anyway, and I don’t want to get any closer to Weisshaupt than I have to -”

“Anders,” said Nathaniel patiently.

“Good old Ferelden though - maybe that would be good, or - oh, I know, Rivain! We could go visit Isabela, it’ll be warm, Fenris can see his brother again -”

“Anders.”

“And I’m sure Wynne will love it there - warm and sunny, no templars, lovely -”

“Grand Enchanter, you are rambling. I also would be rather put out if you took our father along so soon after we’ve found each other. I’ll get and get us something to eat, perhaps that will help you?” Callus offered.

Anders halted mid-flow and darted a guilty look at Callus. “I’m... sorry... I’d - you’d be welcome to come too, of course, if you - I mean, that is, if -” He broke off and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little shaken at the moment and I’m really not at my best. As Nathaniel would tell you, I... I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“Considering the last few days, I don’t blame you.” He looked to his sister and to the warden. “If you wish, I’ll go get Father unless this ...stranger only responds to you, Commander Howe.” 

“I’m not a very good Grand Enchanter,” Anders said softly, staring at the bedcovers. “Arden makes a far better Grand Enchanter pretending to be me than I could ever hope to be.” There was a faint wistful note in his voice as he glanced away. “I should never have let Meneris give me the damned job in the first place,” he muttered.

“Don’t say that!” said Pin, shocked. “You’re an excellent Grand Enchanter - you’re just hurt and ill and tired and in need of rest, is all!” She looked to Callus and then Nathaniel to back her up.

“You always did tend to look on the negative side of things when you were tired and fresh up out of the Deep Roads,” Nathaniel shrugged. “You said it yourself - you’re not feeling yourself at the moment. Have something to eat, get some sleep, see how things look in the morning.” He glanced to Callus. “Best leave him to me; the other Anders doesn’t deal well with strangers. No offence, lad, but I know how to handle him. Just as soon as the Inquisitor gets here with Zevran, I’ll go take over from Fenris.”

“Very well, but drop the lad; call me by my name and we’ll be alright, warden.” Callus glared at him as he took a seat and started to clean his blades. 

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows at Callus, then chuckled. “I don’t believe we’ve been actually introduced,” he pointed out. “Warden _Commander_ Nathaniel Howe.” He held his hand out. 

Callus arched an eyebrow at the man and continued to clean his weapon. “Callus, Apprentice to the Inquisition’s Spymaster.” 

“Zevran took himself an apprentice, did he?” Nathaniel leaned against the wall beside the bed and continued to grin. “Well, never thought I’d see the day, but then Zevran’s always been a strange one who did things his own way.”

“Nate... don’t,” said Anders tiredly. Pin regarded him with worried eyes as she perched on the edge of the bed, still clutching his hand. He glanced down at his pale hand held firmly in her tawny grasp then up at her; he seemed content not to try and reclaim his hand for the moment. 

“I’m sure the Inquisitor will be back with your, ah, master, shortly,” shrugged Nathaniel with another glance to Callus. “So, both of you apprenticed, and barely in Skyhold a matter of weeks? You’ve done well for yourselves - and both apprenticed to men at the top of their respective crafts.”

“Nate -” began Anders testily.

“Calm yourself, Anders; the lad - pardon me, Callus - can speak up for himself; he’s proven that much. If he’s been chosen by Zevran then I’m sure our favourite Antivan will have picked someone with fire enough to match himself, I’m sure.”

Callus glanced through his hair, dark as Fenris’ used to be as he sized up the warden. The man before him was bigger, a more seasoned warrior as a warden but he was pushing his buttons. None of them in the room save Pin knew how he could be when pushed. “Are you familiar with my father’s temper, Warden Howe?”

Nathaniel laughed. “Aye, I’m well aware of it; I’ve felt his hand in my chest on one occasion, and seen his temper quite often - at close quarters, too; far closer than I am to you. You’ll note I’m still here to tell the tale.”

Callus grinned as he continued to clean his blade. “So, knowing how he can be and how likely it is one of us has his temperment, you decided to bait me? I wonder how you got to be Commander when you make sport of a child you just met to amuse yourself?”

Anders groaned and fell back against the pillows as he closed his eyes. “Can you please not start the verbal pissing match until after I am well out of it and asleep?”

“There’s no bait but what you choose to hear,” shrugged Nathaniel calmly, unperturbed by the boy’s taunting. “And if you’re Zevran’s apprentice then you’re no child - though I’ll grant there’s more of the boy about you than the man still. And I’m commander because I’ve earned it. When you’ve earned the right, then feel free to challenge me - but until then, perhaps you should ask your master for better lessons on picking your battles, young master hedgehog. Pull your prickles in; the one you have a true quarrel with is likely with your father or Zevran right now, not in this room.”

Pin darted a glare at Nathaniel but he regarded her impassively until her ears drooped a little and she glanced back at Anders, uncertain.

“Leave off, Nate,” sighed Anders. “You’ve made your point. But Callus is Zevran’s apprentice, not one of your recruits - so leave it to Zevran to speak with him.”

“As you will,” shrugged Nathaniel. He glanced to the door and straightened, one hand slipping to the dagger at his hip as his body tensed.

Pin released Anders’ hand and she called power to her hands, alert in an instant; Anders’ eyes snapped open at the prickle of raw power so close to him.

Callus dropped the cloth he’d been using and let his own dagger hang loose in his fingers as he stared at Nathaniel in challenge. He’d not raised a hand against the warden, but he wouldn’t let him threaten him either. “One thing Zevran has taught me, don’t touch your blade unless you mean to use it, so…”

Nathaniel raised a hand in a sign that Callus had seen Zevran use for silence; Anders sat up, his eyes intent on Nathaniel. “Danger?” he whispered.

Call frowned as he pulled his other blade before he slipped back to the shadows and waited for a signal.

“Anders, lie still,” murmured Nathaniel. “Pin, hang back - can you cast a paralysis glyph?”

“I can,” she nodded.

“Good girl. I can hear three men approaching. Paralysis glyph at the ready, shield Anders, haste on Callus and myself.”

“Yes ser,” she answered; a moment later, they felt the tingling of magic over their skin. Anders lay back in the bed and swallowed hard, reaching for his own magic as he extended his senses to be ready with healing spells if needed. He was glad Ellowynne’s cot was on the other side of the bed; anyone coming through the door would have to go through Callus and Nathaniel, then Pin and himself before they could touch his daughter.

Callus held still as he focused on the door, the sounds in the room and the tell-tale scuff of feet outside that he’d somehow missed - the evidently the Warden hadn’t, to his chagrin. He waited for something to try and get in. He’d already failed his sister once, he wasn’t doing that again.

The door swung open and Invictus strode in. Anders flinched back in the bed and pushed himself hastily away to the far side of the bed then froze there, prepared to defend Ellowynne to the death if need be. Nathaniel glanced to follow his movement, briefly distracted; at that moment, Pin cast the paralysis glyph on Invictus’ feet, freezing him to the spot.

Callus flicked his wrist when he saw Invictus enter, the dagger flying straight and true to bury itself in the mage’s shoulder, his aim to take the mage down hard and fast. 

Invictus cried out in pain when the knife sunk into him as he tried dodge but failed thanks to the glyph holding him steady. “It’s just me! Let this ...Maker, it hurts, what’s on this thing?!”

Anders stared at Invictus, torn between the need to protect Ellowynne, his own fear after what had happened that morning - and the need to go to Invictus, the man he loved, who was now bleeding, Callus’ dagger embedded in his shoulder. He was frozen by indecision.

Nathaniel turned back. “Stop!” he called, holding his hand up. “Pin, drop the glyph.”

“How can we trust him?” she cried.

“Lass, if he were possessed then the demon would have struck straight back at us. It wouldn’t be cursing a blue streak the way he’s doing now,” sighed Nathaniel. “Two ways of telling if someone’s possessed - they either turn abomination immediately, or else they turn the moment you hurt them. They don’t generally cast aspersions on your parentage or invite you to bugger yourself with a pickaxe.” He raised and eyebrow at Invictus. “And I’ll be kind and not tell Fenris what you just called him, given it’s his son who just caught you blindsided, Hawke.” He gestured to Pin. “Go on, let him go.” 

“Go… fuck yourself Nate, you’re not the one with a few inches of steel in their shoulder,” Vic rasped.

“Mythal’s ass, what is wrong with you all!” Meneris said as he tried to keep Zevran from launching himself through the door.

Pin released Invictus from the glyph, and the taller mage staggered forward, clutching at his shoulder. Nathaniel glanced at Callus.

“Good throw,” he remarked. “Soldier’s Bane or magebane?” 

“My own blend,” Callus replied as he approached Invictus. “I should leave it in until you know how you hurt father.” 

Anders was still crouched on the far side of the bed, watching, gripping the bedcovers as he knelt there. He wanted to go to Invictus, to heal him - but at the same time he was afraid to face him. He licked his lips nervously and stared at the other mage, afraid to meet his eyes.

“Meneris, unhand me!” demanded Zevran as he struggled against the warrior futilely.

“No, you are not going to barrel in there and hurt yourself. I’m putting you in that bed and you are going to stay put until we get a healer,” Meneris replied as if he did this every day.

“I’ll...I deserved that. Take your damn blade so I can go, I know when I am unneeded or wanted.” Vic had gone to his knees as soon as the glyph had been dispelled. He wanted to throw up and pass out but he saw the way Anders looked at him, and that was enough to make him want to flee.

“Vic,” whispered Anders, his voice shaking as he stared at the other mage. “It’s... it’s really you? Not... not... _him_?”

“Told you that, no one believes me. Just get his weapon...Maker, fuck it’s burning,” he gasped as he gripped the handle. “I’ll go… none of you trust me anymore, I’ll just go.” 

“Good, you’re too weak to resist a demon, you don’t need to be around father, or Anders or any of us. Get out,” Callus sneered.

“No - no!” cried Anders as he launched himself suddenly across the bed and then flung himself down on the floor in front of Invictus and reached for the blade embedded in the other man’s shoulder. He cried out as the magebane stung his hand but gritted his teeth against the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry - forgive me, it’s going to hurt,” he said hurriedly before he wrenched the dagger free then flung it aside.

Invictus clamped his mouth shut and shuddered as blood ran down his arm. “Go...back...to bed. I’ll be fine. Just fine.” He winced as he tried to get up but failed.

“Don’t coddle him Grand Enchanter, he’s too weak to resist demons - you don’t need to be with him,” Callus said. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I - I can fix this, just let me fix it!” muttered Anders as he pressed his hand over the stab wound, gritting his teeth still as the magebane in the wound bubbled and hissed against his skin. “Just let me heal you - Maker, forgive me - Vic, I’m so, so sorry....” He whimpered as he poured healing magic into the wound, frantically trying to drive out whatever poison was on the blade and close the wound.

“Stop, there’s magebane in the mixture you’ll be injured as well. Let him go to the infirmary.” Callus came over to retrieve his weapon, a scowl upon his face that would rival his father as he looked down on Invictus. 

Anders shook his head, a look of determination on his face as he continued to heal Invictus. “It doesn’t matter, I can handle it - just leave me be, I have to fix this, put it right!” He stared anxiously into Invictus’ face. “I’m sorry love, I’m sorry!” he whispered.

“Fine...when he turns on you all again don’t be surprised.” Callus took a seat as he watched Anders struggle to heal the other mage, his gaze hardened even when Pin came to him.

The wound slowly sealed shut and Anders stared up into Invictus’ eyes. “Love?” he whispered, ignoring the stinging ache in his hand as he lowered it.

“He’s right, I am too weak. Give me a few minutes and I’ll leave you in peace,” Invictus said as he dropped his gaze.

“No, you all are going to work this out. Nathaniel, go back to your charge and send Fenris in here he’s needed. I’m going to resume my search for Dorian. And you….” Meneris rounded on Callus with a glare. “You are going to the infirmary and getting healing supplies for Zevran. You will be respectful of the First Enchanter of the Inquisition and everyone is going to show their damned face at dinner this evening in the Great Hall, am I clear?” 

Into the stunned silence that followed, Anders’ low voice carried clear.

“He is still my husband. I will not abandon him.”

“Ah, my love,” sighed Zevran as he limped into the room, no longer held back by Meneris. 

“Did none of you hear a word I said?” Meneris asked in a low voice.

“Heard you loud and clear, Inquisitor Lavellan. I will go find my father, and supplies as ordered.” Callus gave a shallow bow to the other elf, which barely kept his glaring from Invictus.

Nathaniel bent down to help Anders to his feet, then held a hand out to help Invictus up as Zevran limped to the nearest chair and sat down, wincing.

Ellowynne had sat up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The moment she spotted Invictus she let out a piercing scream.

“I told you…” Vic winced as he struggled to his feet. “I’ll go, she’s terrified of me, like I figured. I’ll send a note later.” 

Anders stepped back to the bed and then dropped down onto the edge, curling in upon himself as he pressed his clean hand to his face and fought not to give into tears again. The burning sensation of his other hand was almost a welcome distraction as he kept his head bowed and tried to control his breathing. His body ached, and he was tired beyond measure.

“Daddy - daddy!” Ellowynne cried as she ran to him; he held his injured hand up out of her reach, afraid to let her touch the magebane on his skin, not raising his head as he closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. He was done. He wanted to rest, to sleep and forget any of this had happened - at least for a time.

“Easy, little one,” said Zevran as he beckoned her over to him. “Allow your father a moment, yes?”

“But - it’s him! The bad man!” she protested.

“Didn’t you say that the - the ghost - ate up the bad man after he pulled it out of Uncle Vic?” said Pin, glancing at Invictus warily.

“But he hurt daddy - and daddy’s hurt again!” she protested.

“That was not entirely Uncle Vic’s fault, little one,” Zevran tried to smile reassuringly.

“I threw a knife at him Wynne, he walked in unannounced and considering how he hurt you, Pin, father… he shouldn’t be surprised. Be careful, my blades are...coated in magebane and it will hurt you.” Callus went to the basin for a soapy flannel, his attention on that and not the scene being made.

Nathaniel sighed. “You kids going to behave yourselves if Uncle Nate steps out for a bit?” he asked, eyeing Anders and Invictus and ignoring the others.

“Now...is not the time for your dull wit, Howe,” Vic snapped. 

Callus glared as he took Anders’ hand to clean the magebane off. “There, that should help.” Anders didn’t resist as Callus held his wrist and scrubbed his hand clean, merely wincing briefly, his eyes still closed. When Callus was done, he cradled the hand against his chest, not looking up.

“Thank you,” he murmured tonelessly.

“Hawke, a word of advice? Talking’s not doing so well for you right now. Maybe don’t,” replied Nathaniel as he shot Invictus a disgusted look. “You’re lucky the Inquisitor hasn’t locked you up for your own safety; you’re a one-man disaster area right now. If I come back later and find Anders any worse than he is right now then it won’t be Callus kicking your sorry excuse for an arse - it’ll be me. Get your act together, man. You were the Champion of Kirkwall and you’re the First Enchanter of Skyhold. Start acting like it.” He shook his head and stalked off down the hall.

Invictus glared at the warden’s retreating back before he turned to Anders. “I’m going until all of you feel safe around me. I’m not going to endanger anyone else. I’ll be ...in the infirmary if anyone actually wants to talk.” 

“But the Inquisitor said...!” began Pin.

“Pin, I’m in pain, I’m tired, my head hurts and Ellowynne screamed at the sight of me. Please just let me leave.” Vic said as he tried to stay upright. 

“Invictus, stay right where you are.” Meneris snapped as Callus darted him a last glance before slipping past him to head for the infirmary as he’d been ordered. Angry as he was, he’d seen how pale Zevran’s face was and his duty was to the man who’d accepted him as apprentice.

Ellowynne had retreated to Zevran and was curled up against him, the Antivan leaning back in the chair as he held her close and murmured quiet reassurances to her, though his eyes were on Anders who still sat hunched over and silent, his eyes closed as he worked hard to not give in to the urge to weep again or fall over. 

Anders almost wished he could just blank out again, except that strange cotton-wool feeling he’d felt earlier was unnerving in its own way. He was aware of being watched; the simplest thing to do seemed to be to remain still and wait for Fenris.

Invictus glared back at Meneris as he made his way to a chair and fell into it. He remained silent, until the door opened and Fenris returned to them with a cautious glance at Invictus. 

“What happened now?” he asked before Pin crossed the room to him.

“Father?” she asked, eyeing him nervously, afraid to see him possibly freak out at Invictus the way Anders had when Invictus had initially walked in.

Anders lifted his head slightly, opening his eyes and staring at Fenris’ feet.

Fenris tilted her chin up and gave her a smile. “What happened my sweet girl? I won’t be upset with you, I don’t have the energy for it.”

She darted a glance at the doorway; her brother hadn’t yet returned with the healing supplies from the infirmary however. “I....” She grimaced. “Anders was hurt again. Callus... he threw a knife at Invictus. It had magebane on it.”

“I’m fine,” said Anders very softly in a tone of voice that suggested he was actually very far from fine.

“You sound about as fine as I feel,” Fenris replied. “Meneris, you can leave, I’d like time alone with my family please,” he said to the other warrior.

“As you wish Fenris, good luck. I’m off to find Dorian, I hope.” The Inquisitor left them in a hurry, glad to be quit of the whole scene.

Anders finally looked up at Fenris properly. He glanced briefly to Invictus before returning his gaze to Fenris. “I... no, you’re right. I’m not fine,” he shrugged. He blinked tiredly and glanced at the window where the early dawn light was filtering through the curtains. He was dully surprised it was dawn already. Barely twenty-four hours ago, he, Fenris and Pin had walked into what seemed a living nightmare. He glanced back to Fenris again.

“So...you feel like shit, I’m not much better. Invictus is poisoned with magebane, Callus is probably ready to fight and Ellowynne is upset. Zevran is being stubborn. Is that all?” Fenris said as he held Pin close to him. 

Anders glanced down at the blistered palm of his hand. “There’s also the matter of my... my twin, for want of a better word,” he shrugged. “That’s just... an added level of weirdness on this whole thing though.” He rubbed the thumb of his other hand slowly over the blisters on his palm. The skin itched and burned, but he knew it would have been worse if Callus hadn’t washed the poison off as fast as he had. He sighed silently and closed his eyes. He didn’t think he had much more in him to cope with anything else that the day might throw at him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this exhausted and heartsore before; he felt cold inside, empty, his chest aching and tight.

“Fenris, I just want to go to my room. Anders isn’t well enough for this and Ellowynne screamed in terror at me. You backed away from me when you came to. Just please let me go and be alone for a while,” Invictus fairly begged. 

Zevran glanced over at Invictus, debating whether to mention Anders’ earlier reaction when he had come around in Invictus’ arms. He glanced down at Ellowynne, who had calmed at last and was drowsy again, and decided to say nothing unless either Anders himself or Invictus chose to mention it.

“Unless Anders strongly objects, I see no reason to make you more miserable. We can all meet up after we’ve caught up on proper rest. My headache hasn’t gone away yet.” Fenris kissed Pin on the forehead before he headed for the bed. “I think I need to lie down anyway.”

Anders glanced up at Fenris as the elf approached the bed, then glanced to the doorway as Callus returned with a healing kit and fresh bandages in his arms. Pin took a bandage from him then made her way over to Anders, pulling away the loose bandage and readying a clean one. The blond mage glanced up at her, startled, as she tipped his chin up with a forefinger then began to dress the wounds on his throat.

“You should heal this when you’ve slept,” she said quietly. “The cuts are looking inflamed and sore. Like someone’s....” She frowned slightly. “Like someone has been rubbing at them.”

He held still and closed his eyes as she continued to wind the clean bandage around his throat.

Zevran glanced over at Callus, then down at the child in his arms. “I shall have to wait a little I think,” he shrugged.

“Can you stretch your leg out?” Fenris asked as he approached Vic carefully. “Vic? Will you be ok alone - the truth.”

Invictus shook his head no, but didn’t dare raise his eyes to his husband. “I hurt you, and Wynne, and your daughter as well as Anders. I was too weak to resist, I need some time to think on things. I want all of you to feel safe around me, until then I’m going to be in my rooms. I love you and I am so, so, sorry for failing you my heart, my ...beloved.” He turned and fled down the hall, leaving them all to stare at Fenris as he shut the door. 

He wanted to throw things but the room was crowded, his head and heart hurt, the last thing he wanted was to scare Ellowynne, or Pin with his anger. Instead he took the empty side of the bed and stretched out. 

Anders had risen to his feet as Invictus fled; he stared at the door for a moment, then lowered his head. Slowly, he sat down again, and then he lay down on the edge of the bed, curling up upon his side.

“Pin,” said Zevran softly. “I think the Imp is asleep. Would you help me put her back to bed?”

“Of course,” she nodded. She helped him up from the chair as he rose with Ellowynne in his arms, then helped him limp carefully around the bed to lay the sleeping child back in her bed. He nearly overbalanced as he straightened, and she caught him with a worried look as he bit his lip to keep silent, wincing as he clutched at his leg. There was a dark stain spreading through the fabric of his pants, and his face was pale, perspiration upon his brow.

“Callus, can you help Zevran? I’m not feeling well,” Fenris mumbled as he rolled over and reached for Anders. 

“Of course father.” The younger elf helped Zevran to a chair and prompted him to rest his leg across his lap. “Unfortunately, I’ve gotten good at this sort of thing.” 

“Then... I place myself in your... capable hands... and trust to your tender mercies,” panted Zevran faintly as he leaned back in the chair and deliberately relaxed himself.

Fenris mumbled as he felt Anders finally move back towards him, and he relaxed. “Thank you Pin,” he said softly. Anders rolled over until he was facing towards Fenris, his face half-hidden by his tousled hair as it fell about his face. The mage was hunched in upon himself slightly, hands cradled to his chest.

“Fenris,” he slurred softly. “Fenris, I think I’m... done. I... can’t. Not any more.” His words were indistinct and Fenris had to lean closer to hear them.

The elf’s eyes opened wide and he pulled Anders closer. “Please don’t say that. You have to go on, for Ellowynne if nothing else, please love,” Fenris begged. 

Anders’ eyes were still closed. “I’m tired, Fen. I just want it all to stop. Just for a while.”

“Sleep, just sleep please. Don’t talk about dying...I can’t lose you.” Fenris caught himself before he grabbed Anders to shake him. He turned over and looked to Pin. “Can you put him to sleep?”

“I... I don’t think so,” she confessed. “Not yet. I’m sorry, Father.”

Anders sighed. “Can put myself out,” he mumbled. “Just... can’t....” He opened his eyes and gazed at Fenris dully. “Just tired, love. Not going to do anything. I just... I just want everything to go away, stop, for a little while.” He pressed the palm of his good hand against his forehead and Fenris felt the tug of magic upon his brands, and then Anders closed his eyes and his hand dropped, limp, as the mage dropped into unconsciousness.

Pin blinked. “I had no idea that was even possible,” she murmured.

“Nor did I. You and your brother should eat something and get some sleep. I wish he could have healed my headache before he did that,” Fenris muttered as he closed his eyes and snuggled next to Anders. 

Pin gently tugged the covers up over her father and the sleeping Anders before she made her way around the bed to check on how her brother was doing, patching up Zevran. The Antivan had closed his eyes and at first she thought he had fallen asleep somehow, until she saw him blink and realised his eyes were not quite fully closed.

“Almost done, then you are going to get in bed too and we are finally going to eat before I get a nasty headache like Fenris,” Callus said as he worked quickly to pick any last bits of wood or glass he could find before he wiped Zevran’s leg clean for a fresh bandage. The wound had reopened somewhat messily at some point, and it was a wonder the elf had been capable of standing upright, much less carrying a young girl to her bed.

Pin stared down at Zevran’s leg and winced. “You were walking around on that leg?” she exclaimed quietly.

“Actually I was limping on it and occasionally falling over,” quipped Zevran with a shrug. “It looks worse than it feels.”

Callus arched an eyebrow, looking eerily like Fenris as he stared at his mentor. “All of you are lying about how bad off you are.” 

Zevran glanced up at him and nodded. “Of course. I myself have made quite the career out of it, in my way,” he shrugged. “You might say it comes with the territory. The others, though...” He sighed. “Fenris has been a mercenary and a slave; hiding how he feels, masking his pain - it comes naturally. Anders, too - in the Circle, I think to show pain was to give his captors another weapon against him. You have seen his scars; it is clear he is no stranger to pain. And it is in his nature now to downplay it, though it was not necessarily always that way. We all of us wear masks. You, too, also wear masks.” He tensed slightly as Callus tied off the bandage, then relaxed with a visible effort.

“Fair enough. Now let me help you over to the bed and you should rest as well,” Callus said as he offered a hand for Zevran to get up.

Zevran glanced over to the bed, then back at Callus. “Do not trouble yourself, my apprentice,” he said softly as he waved Callus away. “Go, find food for yourself and your sister. I will be fine.” His smile was lopsided. “A Crow learns to take his rest where he can; in time, he may take it where he will. I have slept in the rafters of this very room; this chair is a featherbed by comparison.”

“Very well, we shall return this evening. Rest well, and take care of them.” Callus gave him a short bow and headed to the door to wait for Pin. 

She glanced back at the bed, then darted over to press a chaste kiss to her father’s forehead. “Sleep well, Father,” she murmured. Then, greatly daring, she leaned over him to kiss Anders softly upon the lips. “Sleep well, master,” she whispered. 

Zevran had already closed his eyes, but as she darted past him, he reached out and caught her wrist with his fingers.

“A dangerous game you play, my child,” he murmured without opening his eyes. He released her and let his hand fall as she shrank away from him, staring at him with frightened eyes before she ran to Callus, her heart racing.

Callus said nothing, but took her hand and led her out.

“Zevran scares me,” Pin confided later as they sat in a corner of the great hall to eat their very early breakfast. “There’s something about him - he seems open and friendly, but... of them all, I think he’s the most terrifying one. Though Master Anders - when he confronted the templars... even Father was scared, I could see it. But Zevran is the truly terrifying one.”

“Yes, he is. He was a Crow Master remember? He knows more than he will ever let on. Leave it be Pin, just leave it be,” Callus warned.

“The spirits whisper about him,” she said softly, her eyes on her plate. “Even the spirits are afraid of him, Callus. You must be careful. He draws death with him.”

“I am aware Pin, so very aware,” Callus replied.

“Would you become like him then?” she asked him, curious. “Would you become a Crow - or, no! More than a Crow; even the Crows fear Zevran Arainai. Would you become a Hawke then?” She leaned forward, tilting her head a little to one side.

“I don’t know...I had not gotten that far. I’ve been more concerned with surviving the last day than worrying about that. Finish your meal so we can rest,” Callus said.

“We need to start thinking about the future, Cal,” she shrugged as she poked her food with her fork. “We actually _have_ one now, after all.” She reached for her mug of tea and sipped it.

“We do, but can we get through today please?” Callus asked in irritation.

“Do you realise...” she suddenly froze, her mind whirling in a cascade of thoughts. “This time yesterday. He changed. He was....” She had glanced in the direction of Anders’ rooms without realising it. “He held a knife to Anders’ throat and it all changed. Just... just one day.”

“Yes, I’m aware… painfully,” Callus said tiredly as he leaned back with his ale. 

She glanced back at him, and for a moment she was staring at him through the Fade. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the ghostly black ravens that crouched either side of her brother - or the ghostly form of a templar that stood some way behind him that turned to stare at her with glowing blue eyes. Her eyes widened.

“ _Tell Anders I have something of his._ ”

Pin leapt to her feet and fled.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian learns a lesson about not phoning home as it were, Zevran doesn't know when to quit and Fenris is a mess.

Anders slept deeply. He was still asleep when Fenris eventually awakened several hours later when the bright afternoon sun found a chink in the curtains and fell full upon his face. He was glad to find his headache had abated somewhat.

As he sat up and glanced around, he noticed Ellowynne was gone, presumably collected by one of the twins. Zevran was slumped in his chair still, his injured leg propped up on a stool. The Antivan was still worryingly pale; he didn’t stir as Fenris rose from the bed.

The elf frowned as he approached Zevran and touched his shoulder. “ _Carissimi_?” he called softly.

Zevran stirred, opening his eyes as he straightened in the chair with a wince. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“It’s afternoon, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Fenris asked as he offered his arm for the other elf. “Come, you must need the privy after sitting so long.” 

Zevran stretched his injured leg cautiously and then winced. “I think I will need help,” he nodded. He glanced over to the bed. “Anders... how is he?”

“He put himself to sleep, and hasn't stirred yet," Fenris replied as he picked Zevran up. The Antivan drew his breath in with a sharp hiss and clutched at his leg.

“Easy, _carissimi_... I think perhaps I should visit Hal in the infirmary. Your son has much skill as a healer, but I cannot afford to wait for this to heal naturally. There is much I must do,” he said with a wince. “And I am not as young as I once was.”

"Of course, I'll take you now," Fenris said as he shifted to make Zevran more comfortable.

As he turned, Fenris glanced up and came to a halt as Marian paused in the doorway. “Oh! Sorry, I was looking for Pin,” she said apologetically. “Have you seen her?”

"Not yet, did you check her room or the infirmary?" Fenris replied. "Is something wrong?"

“We were supposed to meet up after breakfast,” she shrugged. “Callus said she ran off in a hurry though, and she hasn’t shown up at the College. I thought she might have brought Ellowynne over, but Garrett had to come fetch her when no-one showed up. The Imp’s fine - she said you were all sleeping, but I figured by now at least one of you should be awake.” She glanced at Zevran, then back to Fenris. “No worries; I’ll go see if she’s out by the practice fields,” she shrugged.

"If you don't find her come to me in the infirmary. Please send Callus there to meet us if you wouldn't mind?" Fenris said as he wondered where she could have got off to.

“Sure,” replied the young mage. She glanced over at Anders, still sleeping deeply. “Is... the Grand Enchanter alright?” she asked, her voice dropping. “There’s some really weird rumours going around at the College. Everyone’s keeping out of the Inquisitor’s way - Lord Pavus has disappeared, and people are saying something happened in the Grand Enchanter’s rooms yesterday morning. And I heard one of the servants saying something about a ghost?”

"The Grand Enchanter needs his rest, there is no ghost. Now go on and look for Pin. I need to to get to the Infirmary if you don't mind." Fenris scowled at the girl as he shifted Zevran in his arms again. The Antivan gritted his teeth to keep himself from crying out as the movement sent a lance of pain through his leg. 

“Please, _carissimi_ ,” he muttered. “The infirmary.”

"Shall I use other means to get us there?" Fenris asked, worried. Zevran merely nodded his head as he grimaced.

Marian backed away, hands raised, then headed off in the direction of the main doors. Fenris watched her go before glancing back at Anders one last time, reassuring himself that the blond mage were still sleeping peacefully, and then he stepped into the Fade, transporting himself and Zevran directly to the infirmary in an instant.

Hal jerked back in surprise as he nearly walked into Fenris. “Maker, you startled me!” he exclaimed, a little breathless. “Fenris, I think we’re going to have to set up a specific spot in the infirmary for you to teleport to. This skill of yours is very useful, but I dread to think what would happen if you teleported into the exact spot someone were walking straight into.”

Fenris merely grunted noncommittally. “Zevran is in pain. He needs your healing.”

Hal blinked. “Yes, of course,” he nodded. “Bring him over to my examination table.” He gestured to the table as he walked towards it, at once the cool professional.

Fenris carefully lay Zevran on the table, the Antivan stretching his injured leg out with a soft hiss as Hal inspected it then began to peel Zevran’s pants down. He frowned at the bandages and began to unwind them. “Do you wish to stay?” asked Hal, his mismatched eyes on what he was doing.

“ _Carissimi_?” Fenris asked Zevran; the other elf silently held his hand out to Fenris, and he took it, standing near Zevran’s head as Hal set to work.

Fenris was worried. Zevran had been very quiet and withdrawn ever since the attack yesterday morning, Fenris realised - speaking little of his wounds, not objecting to Fenris carrying him as he usually would. Fenris rarely worried for Zevran except when the elf became uncharacteristically quiet - as he was now.

“How bad is it?” he asked as Hal laid his hands either side of the wound and his eyes widened.

“Zevran... you were walking on this leg yesterday. _How_?” Hal exclaimed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” said Fenris, his worry mounting.

“Zevran has been walking on a broken leg,” said Hal. “How, I have no idea - Maker, just how high _is_ your tolerance for pain, Zevran??”

The Antivan shrugged and grinned weakly. “I _am_ a Crow,” he pointed out. “We are taught to withstand any pain as part of our training.”

“How bad is the damage?” asked Fenris, staring at Zevran in disbelief. 

“I’ve seen worse,” replied Hal quietly. “But it’s not good either. The femur is fractured - feels like there was a fine crack that was worsened. There’s significant damage here. It feels like there was significant trauma to the muscle, and there are chips and fragments of bone and - splinters of wood, it feels like. There’s other injuries as well - his kidneys are bruised, shoulder badly wrenched, and I’m picking up on what feels like a half-healed concussion. Zevran, what happened to you?”

“I was thrown against a table, which broke,” Zevran replied quietly. “Invictus drew a large fragment of wood from my thigh afterwards. There was also broken glass from potion bottles; I may also have destroyed a couple of chairs and dented the wall slightly.” He gave a rueful smile as Fenris swore roundly.

Hal nodded. “There’s a low-level infection here too, though someone’s already done a fair job of healing it - and whoever dressed it for you did a reasonable job. But I won’t lie to you - your leg is a mess, Zevran. You did yourself no favours by walking around on it yesterday evening - how you got down those stairs to Anders, I have no idea. I can feel a lot of old scar tissue here too, and inflammation. In fact,” he added as he glanced up at the Antivan, “From the inflammation I can feel in your body and the level of cortisol in your bloodstream, I would say you’re probably in a fair amount of discomfort usually anyway - and your body has been under stress for a long time.”

“The life of a Crow is not an easy one,” Zevran shrugged.

Hal sighed as he stepped back and shook his head. “You can’t keep doing this, Zevran. You’ve been putting your body through a great deal of strain for years, and there’s damage there going back years that I don’t think will ever fully heal.” He turned to a tray of instruments. “I’m going to have to operate on your leg. There are fragments of wood, bone and glass in the wound, a lot of damage to the muscle. I’ll have to remove the debris and then do what I can to fix the damage with my healing magic. I’m not sure what I can do to counteract the inflammation and deal with the old damage; I’ll do what I can, and there are herb preparations I can give you that will help. I can’t guarantee how well your leg will recover; there’s a lot of damage to your hip and knee already that’s accumulated from old injuries, but I’ll do what I can.”

“I can remove the debris?” offered Fenris, holding up his hand and letting his brands light up briefly.

Hal glanced up at him, then nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I shall need to put Zevran under before we begin however. The healing will be... unpleasant.”

“Then by all means begin,” said Zevran quietly.

Hal nodded, and reached to lay a hand upon Zevran’s forehead, gently pushing him deep into unconsciousness with a touch of magic.

Then he and Fenris set to work.

***

Nathaniel watched Anders thoughtfully as the white-haired man frowned in concentration, holding the end of a piece of string as a tabby cat pawed at it. Nathaniel had found the cat prowling the library restlessly earlier whilst Anders slept; it had followed the Warden back to their room and seemed to know Anders, jumping up onto the bed and curling up, purring, against the sleeping man.

Nathaniel had returned to their room in the early hours of the morning to find Anders curled up on the floor, his head in Fenris’ lap as the elf stroked the tousled white hair. The elf had seemed tired and sad as he stared down at the drowsy man. Nathaniel had gently persuaded Anders up off the floor and into the bed as Fenris departed; Nathaniel himself had washed briefly then crawled into bed next to Anders soon after to fall into a restless sleep.

Anders had woken Nathaniel twice, whimpering in his sleep; whatever the state of his mind, it seemed he could still be troubled by nightmares. Nathaniel wondered how a nightmare of darkspawn must seem to someone like Anders as he was now, innocent and reduced to a mentality little better than an infant of a couple of years. Anders had quietened as Nathaniel held him in his arms, rocking him gently and talking quietly to him as he might have done a young child until Anders drifted asleep again, the tears drying on his face.

Nathaniel had had breakfast brought to them soon after Anders awoke; the white-haired man seemed delighted by the presence of the cat, scooping it up and cuddling it as he made little quiet sounds of delight. He seemed still mostly nonverbal; used as he was to the normally chatty nature of Anders as he had known him - at least in the warden days, before Justice and everything that followed - Nathaniel found this silence perhaps one of the hardest things to handle around the other man. Anders now possessed a limited vocabulary, as far as the Warden could tell - _yes_ , _no_ , _dead_ , _gone_ , _lost_ , _alone_ in addition to his own name. He had been persuaded (after much encouragement) to call Nathaniel “Nate”, and he’d now added _cat_ to the small list of words he used. 

Nathaniel had tried showing books to Anders again; he’d glanced at the pictures but showed no signs of being able to read - or perhaps the subject matter hadn’t interested him. Maybe the other Anders would be able to suggest something when he was more himself.

It was strange; Nathaniel was already finding himself growing attached to this strange, white-haired Anders and almost begun thinking of him as _his_ Anders. He wasn’t sure just when that had happened; all he knew was that when he’d returned to his room and saw Anders curled up with Fenris he’d felt a brief stab of uncharacteristic jealousy. The blond-haired apostate had never really been _his_ , as such; he and Anders had been casual lovers before Anders’ disappearance, and they’d been fond of each other in their own ways; but when Anders had made it clear in Tevinter and on Seheron, and then again outside Adamant that his heart belonged to Hawke and Fenris, Nathaniel hadn’t sought to push the point. People moved on, after all, and he’d been in an affectionate relationship with Sigrun himself for a number of years now, though it was an easy affair and they’d both taken other casual partners besides.

But this Anders... he _needed_ Nathaniel, in a way the other Anders rarely had. This Anders was more like a child in a grown man’s body; he needed to be cared for, protected; and though it had barely been a day, already Nathaniel found himself reluctant to release Anders to the care of others. Sister Rebecca had offered to take care of him and Nathaniel had refused - after all, Anders already trusted him.

He’d managed to coax Anders into using a spoon to feed himself porridge; it had been a messy and clumsy business at first, but Anders had gotten the hang of it far faster than a weaning infant would, and already Nathaniel had him drinking from a cup. Anders had been able to dress himself that morning, with a little guidance, and there’d been no further soiling incidents (for which Nathaniel was deeply grateful).

Nathaniel watched Anders play with the cat, and sighed inwardly. It would take time for Anders to put flesh back on his emaciated bones; Maker only knew how long Vengeance had been driving him on, steadily starving and without sleep. Nathaniel needed to get back to Vigil’s Keep, but he was unwilling to set out until he was certain Anders was more up to the journey. There was no question in his mind but that Anders would be returning with him, though Andraste only knew how the others would react to him. He couldn’t see that there would be a place here at Skyhold for him - and he knew Anders couldn’t be far off his Calling by now. The Grand Enchanter, the husband of Invictus Hawke, Fenris and Zevran - he would understand what he was facing. He would have options, be capable of travelling to the Deep Roads, or he could turn to Zevran for a swift, painless and dignified departure from life if he so chose. This poor sod? How would they describe to him what was happening when the Calling started? How would they deal with it? He could hardly be sent off down the nearest entrance to the Deep Roads, after all.

No, he’d keep this Anders with him, and deal with the issue himself when it arose. Anders was a Warden - albeit one with the mind of a child, with no surety of ever recovering more of himself than that - and as such, it was Nathaniel’s duty to look after him. 

And this Anders was a gentle creature, full of innocent joy, a peaceful temperament. His childlike nature didn’t extend to temper tantrums, at least - for which Nathaniel was heartily glad; he wasn’t sure how he’d have handled that. The last thing he needed was to have a mage of the power of Anders going into a meltdown worthy of the most disgruntled toddler.

Anders looked up at Nathaniel, as though aware of his scrutiny, and gave him a happy grin. “Cat!”

“Yes, Anders, that is a very fine cat,” Nathaniel nodded with a sad smile.

“I like cats,” mused Anders as he looked back at the tabby.

It took a moment for Nathaniel to react, and then his eyes widened suddenly. Anders had been referring to himself in the third person all this time; it was the first time he’d used “I” to refer to himself.

“Anders?” said Nathaniel as he leaned forward a little. “Say that again?”

Anders looked up at him, still smiling. “I like cats,” he repeated.

Nathaniel sat back and pondered. Was Anders developing more of a sense of self-awareness? He eyed the white-haired man thoughtfully. On a hunch, he got up and went to the door; a passing servant paused.

“Serah?” she asked. “Was there something you were wanting?”

“Could you find me a mirror please?” he asked her.

“A... mirror, ser?” She regarded him curiously. “I’m sure I can find you such a thing, ser. Was there anything else?”

“No, just the mirror will be fine,” Nathaniel replied.

She returned a little while later with a mirror - a plain and simple thing, simply a bit of polished metal, from the looks of it, but it would suit Nathaniel’s purposes fine. He thanked her, and the returned to Anders.

“Here, Anders,” he said, holding the mirror out to the white-haired man. “What do you see?”

Anders took the mirror, curious, and turned it over in his hands until he caught sight of his reflection and jumped, evidently startled. He peered at it closer, then held it up so he could see his own reflection more clearly. He touched the reflection with his fingertips, then his own face, before he touched his white hair.

“Anders?” said Nathaniel quietly.

“Anders,” Anders replied softly. “It’s... it’s... me.” He stared at the reflection and tugged at his hair again. “White. White hair.” He stared up at Nathaniel with a worried expression.

“Yes, your hair is white,” Nathaniel nodded. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

Anders looked at his reflection again. “No,” he answered. He lowered the mirror and looked a little lost.

“Anders,” said Nathaniel gently. “Do you know who I am?”

“Nate,” replied Anders promptly.

“That’s right. Now, do you know _what_ I am?”

Anders looked confused; Nathaniel rose and went to the trunk where he had put some of his things for safekeeping. He pulled out his Warden tunic and turned with it in his hands. He held it up, and saw recognition in Anders’ eyes.

“Warden,” whispered Anders. He stared at the tunic then very carefully set the mirror aside then turned away from Nathaniel, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them as he pressed his forehead against his arms.

“Anders?” asked Nathaniel as he took a step closer.

“Go away,” Anders said, his voice muffled. “Anders isn’t here.”

Nathaniel halted and stared at the white-haired man, who had started slowly rocking. 

***

“Dorian?”

He groaned. His head was splitting and he felt weak. He was lying in a soft bed, and the scent of incense was heavy in the air. He could feel a faint breeze wafting over him, as though from a fan, and he could hear a faint tinkling of wind chimes. There was the taste of lyrium upon his tongue, cloying and bittersweet.

Someone was gently patting his forehead with a cool, damp cloth; he could feel their breath upon his cheek, and there was the soft chime of bracelets near his ear. A faint scent of perfume reached his nose; a familiar one that brought back old memories of childhood. 

“Mother?” he said weakly.

“You are returned to us, beloved son,” replied Aquinea Thalrassian Pavus.

He opened his eyes slowly. He was in his old room in Qarinus; his mother was leaning over him, gently bathing his forehead as one of her slaves carefully fanned him. 

“You had us all most worried,” continued Aquinea as she sat back.”You sent no word of your coming and none saw you enter; when Cassius found you, we feared the worst. How did you get in?”

Dorian managed a weak smile. “I have my secrets, Mother dearest,” he replied. She laughed.

“Keep them, then!” she replied, before her expression grew serious. “I am glad you are returned. When we received no word and then learned of the attack upon the Inquisition Embassy in Minrathous, we feared that your father’s assassins had claimed you also. I am glad they were unsuccessful.”

“Not for want of trying, I fear,” replied Dorian as he sat up slowly. “I do not die easily however.”

“Halward sought to protect you,” said Aquinea soberly. “It would have grieved him to know they were able to strike at you.”

Dorian snorted. “Grieved him? Halward Pavus show concern for his own son? Well, there’s a first time for everything I suppose.” His tone was bitter.

“Dorian. Your father was incredibly proud of you, as am I. You have achieved much. He deeply regretted what he tried to do to you; it was a moment of desperation that he repented ever after.”

“He tried to _change_ me, Mother!” snapped Dorian as he threw aside the covers and rose from the bed. A slave handed him a silk robe; he snatched it and pulled it on then waved his hands at the slaves. “Go. Shoo. Shoo! I neither want nor need slaves about me!” 

They glanced at Aquinea, and she gave them a brief nod of the head as Dorian began to pace, restlessly.

“The last refuge of a weak mind - _he_ taught me that himself, yet he resorted to it quickly enough it seems when I couldn’t be brought to heel by any other means,” he hissed before turning and brandishing a finger at Aquinea. “And _you_ , Mother _dearest_ \- you _let_ him!” His expression changed, for a moment letting the grief and anguish he had harboured deep inside for so long show upon his face. “How could you do that? To your own son? I _trusted_ you, Mother!”

She rose to her feet. “I know. And I, too, bitterly regret it. Your father would not be overruled in the matter. You have no idea how long we fought over it. But he would not be swayed.”

“You imprisoned me,” he said quietly. “I was a prisoner in my own home. Five months in this very room, half of it near off my head on magebane, orichalcum and whatever else that was that you put into my food and drink. It’s a wonder my brains weren’t addled from that alone!”

“It was to keep you safe, Dorian,” she replied, beginning to pace herself as he turned away and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was aching and now he was upright he felt queasy and nauseous, though thankfully not as drained and sick as he had felt in those last few moments before consciousness had fled.

“Whilst you were drugged, I thought with time I might have been able to persuade your father to set aside his madness. Perhaps you would see reason, consent to go through with the betrothal.”

“You should have known me better,” replied Dorian tersely. “I cannot change what I am, nor would I wish to. You would have had me live a lie.”

“We all live lies, Dorian!” exclaimed Aquinea as she turned to him in a rustle of silk. “The whole of Tevinter society is built upon lies, the Magisterium thrives upon them! Do you think there was ever any love lost between your father and I? We married for _duty_ , Dorian!” Her expression softened. “The only love that ever came into our lives was you, Dorian. You were always the most treasured and beloved one, our precious son.”

“Precious?” said Dorian softly. “I was never good enough for him. Nothing I did ever was. I tried _so hard_. One word - just one word of praise would have meant the world to me, but always there was something I could have done better.” He couldn’t stop the pain bleeding through into his voice. “I wanted to make him proud of me. Instead he told me at every turn how much I had failed him. Disappointed him. I wasn’t good enough!” He stared at her. 

“Once, I had hoped I might be.” He heard the wistful tone in his own voice and briefly hated himself for it.

He felt Aquinea slip her hands into his and he glanced down into her soft grey eyes. She squeezed his fingers lightly. “He _was_ proud of you, Dorian. And he loved you very much. It’s why he went to Redcliffe, to apologise.”

“I was too full of anger,” he answered quietly. “What he did - it still hurt. It still does.”

“He knew,” she replied sadly. “He hoped that perhaps one day you might forgive him. He feared you never would. But he never stopped loving you. He only wanted to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” He frowned. “He was still trying to manipulate me, right to the last! This appointment as ambassador -”

“Was done to keep you as far away from his enemies as possible and place you in a position where his enemies would not dare move against you,” she replied quietly. “He knew there were plots against him. Your father had been quietly supporting Magister Tilani and speaking in favour of the Lucerni before the Magisterium, and was quite vociferous against the Venatori.”

“He was? But - I never heard any of this, why -” began Dorian, astounded.

“You had your work with the Inquisition, fighting the Venatori abroad. Your father was fighting in his own way, Dorian - with words and influence. He was becoming perhaps _too_ successful. He wanted you to come back to a Tevinter you could be proud of.” Aquinea smiled sadly.

“Then - my appointment, the assassination attempt -”

“He knew he was going to die,” Aquinea nodded. “He could have used the knowledge to save himself, perhaps - but his last wish was to keep _you_ safe.”

Dorian stared down at Aquinea, his eyes wide as what she was telling him finally sank in. “You mean -”

“He loved you, Dorian. He loved you very much, and he was so very sorry that he destroyed your trust in him. He died regretting it.”

Dorian blinked, and realised his eyes were wet with tears. “Then - but I never - I can’t -” He couldn’t stop the look of anguish he could feel twisting his face. “Why could he never tell me whilst he was alive? I spent most of my life thinking I was this massive disappointment to him - one word, just _one_ would have meant the world to me, and now - I never even had the chance to say goodbye, dammit! The stupid, stubborn, proud, foolish man - damn him, _I never said goodbye!_ ”

Aquinea held him as he began to weep. 

***

They bade their last farewells to Halward Pavus that evening. By sheer happenstance, Dorian had arrived the morning of the funeral; as was custom, the funeral pyre was lit as the sun set in a blood-red blaze. Dorian himself set the pyre alight with a single well-aimed fireball, as was customary.

It was a public ceremony, as was also customary, and Dorian was well aware of the ripples of whispers as the gathered throng gossipped - doubtless about the return of the prodigal son. There was the usual wake afterwards, hosted upon the Pavus estate. Dorian and Aquinea were approached by many afterwards to offer their condolences and best wishes to Dorian upon his ascension to the title of Lord Pavus. It was a long, tedious affair, and it wasn’t until well after dawn that the last well-wished had departed.

Dorian spent two days afterwards with Aquinea as they discussed his father’s affairs; Halward had prepared amply for his death it seemed, and everything was in order. Dorian left the management of the Pavus estate to Aquinea and departed the morning of the third day, dispatching two ravens to Skyhold before he left. He finally arrived back at the embassy in Qarinus only a day after he had read the little message scrolls in Skyhold. He had sent a rider on ahead to advise of his arrival, and was met at the gates of Minrathous by a full armed guard of Inquisition soldiers who escorted him to the embassy itself.

Calpernia and Arden were waiting at the embassy, both wildly curious as to what had happened since Fenris had born Dorian away, practically at death’s door from his near-evisceration. Dorian waved away their questions as he strode into the main parlour, tired and dusty from the road. “Not a word until I have had a glass of wine and a bath; then you may ask of me what you will - until then I am fit for nothing and for conversation even less,” he said tersely. He reached for the nearest bottle of wine then halted as he felt a tingle from the ornate stone-set ring upon his hand.

**

Meneris paced around his room in a fit of anger. Guards had searched high and low but they could not find a sign of his husband. He rubbed as his face tiredly and winced at how the band of the ring Dorian had gifted him--- “Son of a Varterral, I am stupid.” 

The Inquisitor held the dark stoned ring up and called for his spouse. “Dorian Pavus...please answer me.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Dorian’s voice, quiet and subdued. “ _A-Amatus_.”

Meneris counted to three before he screamed bloody murder… that was coming. “Dorian Pavus...where, or should I say when are you?” 

“When? I believe it’s about an hour until sunset here in Minrathous; that should make it - what, two hours off sunset for you?” replied Dorian cautiously. “I’ve just arrived back at the embassy. Lord Pavus in law as well as fact, for my sins.”

“You know damned well what I meant Dorian, don’t play cute with me. Especially not since I’ve turned Skyhold ass over spout looking for you. Do-not-test-me, _amatus_.” Meneris snarled.

Dorian closed his eyes as he heard the anger in Meneris’ voice, aware of the shocked glances of Calpernia and Arden though they both remained silent. “Forgive me, _amatus_ ,” he murmured quietly. “I... I had a hunch, a sudden thought that wouldn’t let me go. The theory seemed sound, I thought to test it. I’d planned to come straight back but... I miscalculated the amount of mana I’d need. I... I went back. Just over a week, to Qarinus. My father’s funeral.” He was aware he was rambling a little, his words halting and disjointed; he could hear how coldly furious was the tone of Meneris’ voice, and having this out within earshot of the other two was not how he’d planned this discussion to go at all. “I... I overtaxed myself. Had to recuperate, and then there was my father’s funeral. Couldn’t afford to send a message or contact you - it was the past, after all, and I knew before I came back that I hadn’t contacted you sooner so I couldn’t - paradox, don’t you see? No - no, how foolish of me, of course you don’t - but - the funeral, I stayed two days after to tidy up legal affairs then rode straight for Minrathous after I sent two messages, one to you and one to myself and - oh _vishante kaffas_.” He slapped his forehead. “You didn’t get the message, because I took it and I forgot to give it to you and it’s still on my desk and oh _Maker_ , love, I truly am sorry. Of course you’ve been worrying. I am such a fool.”

Meneris was so close to just cutting the connection and speaking with him once he wasn’t ready to throttle the mage. “I am going to cuss you and your lineage back to the Golden City when I see you again. How could you fuck around with time magic again? HOW?” the elf bellowed.

“I thought...I thought you were abducted, or Venatori got you, or ...Creators you don’t know what I thought when I saw the mess in your room and no one could find you. I didn’t even think to try this stupid ring until now. I’m so angry with you Pavus, so, bloody damned angry!” Meneris felt tears slip down his face as he tried to keep from letting himself break down in relief and rage.

Dorian flinched as Meneris shouted. He was weary, footsore, hungry, badly wanted wine and a bath and he felt in no way ready to handle his husband’s rage; he felt tears prickling his eyes as a flare of anger surged in his own chest. He heard Meneris draw breath - to shout again, no doubt - and something in Dorian abruptly snapped.

“My _father is dead_ and I just _burned him on a pyre_ after my mother told me he never stopped loving me and died _proud_ of me and what I’ve done for the Inquisition, you _ass_ Meneris Lavellen, and I never got to say goodbye to him!” he hissed as he felt the tears start to roll down his own face. “I am _tired_ , I _hurt_ , and I need a bloody drink and a bath before you scream at me so don’t you _dare_ , don’t you _dare_ talk to me like this when I - when I - _damn_ it, Meneris, I love you and I _need_ you!” He couldn’t stop the sob that burst unwillingly from his throat as he dropped into the nearest chair and covered his face with his other hand.

“Dorian?” said Arden in a hushed voice. “Dorian... we can go...”

“Shut up Arden, the poor sod needs a bloody drink,” muttered Calpernia as she grabbed the wine bottle and hastily poured a glass before shoving it into Dorian’s hand. The magister was blushing in mortification at their having witnessed the whole altercation, even as he sobbed and attempted to gasp out thanks to her.

Meneris closed his eyes as he heard other voices near Dorian. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone Dorian. I’ll leave you to get settled and when you return, we can work this out.” he said quietly, his anger gone as he realized how he must have mortified the magister. 

Calpernia grabbed Dorian’s wrist and leaned over the ring as Dorian blinked at her, startled.

“Now you listen here, Master ‘High and Mighty’ Inquisitor - your ambassador had literally only just arrived back her at the embassy and hasn’t even had a chance to take his cloak off, much less draw breath before you decided to start bawling him out, and the poor sod’s in a right state. So you’re going to kindly bugger off while he has a drink, a bath and a meal and a nap before you start shouting again - and if the first thing he hears from this sodding ring isn’t an apology than I’m bloody well going to come back to SKyhold to kick your ass personally, am I clear?”

Dorian’s eyes were widening and Arden was frantically making “no” signs at her.

Meneris simply brushed his thumb over the ring to quiet it, and he slipped it off before he let himself smash it in a rage. He’d speak to Dorian when there was no audience and he wasn’t a hairsbreadth away from sending someone to take Calpernia’s head for how she’d spoken to him. They did not have that kind of a relationship and she was going to find out how much damage she’d done once he had calmed down. He left his quarters for a long, long ride away from the Keep. 

Back in Minrathous, Dorian stared horrified at Calpernia as he felt the crystal in the ring vibrate slightly, indicating Meneris had severed the connection from his end.

“What have you done?” he gasped as he set the glass of wine aside. “Have you any idea what you’ve done? You can’t - you just _can’t_ talk to Meneris like that!”

“And he’s got to learn that _he_ can’t talk to _you_ like that!” she replied as she straightened and folded her arms. “You’re Tevinter’s ambassador, and if he’d done that in front of the Magisterium or some high-up Archon’s official, he’d have caused an almighty political stink for insulting _their_ official. He can’t do that, and it’s about time he learned that he can’t throw his weight around and have temper tantrums like that. I’ve just provided him with a timely lesson that he can’t assume you’re alone whenever he calls. What if you’d been in the presence of the Archon? That’d’ve caused a huge mess between the Imperium and the Inquisition.”

“Whilst I might take issue with how Calpernia just handled that, she _does_ have a point,” Arden conceded with a sigh.

Dorian was still staring at the ring, horrified. He swiped his thumb over the stone set into the ring. “Meneris? Meneris - are you there?” He got to his feet. “Maker, Dumat, why won’t he answer?” He dazedly stumbled away. “Meneris? _Amatus_? Please, please answer me - I beg of you!”

Arden and Calpernia exchanged a worried look as Dorian headed unsteadily towards his room, still begging and pleading for Meneris to answer him in vain.

Meneris returned to his rooms well after dinner, his mood not as volatile but he wasn’t feeling good about anything. He picked up the ring and frowned at how it shimmered. Had Dorian been trying to reach him? Had he been wrong to go off in a snit? He slipped it back on and after pouring himself a drink, he called out for his husband. “Dorian...are you...awake?”

There was silence for a moment, and then he heard a sleepy voice slowly answer, a slight hitch in the breathing of the other man. “M-Meneris? Is that you, _amatus_?” He gave an odd little gasp.

“Yes, I’m sorry to have woken you. Are you … do you want to talk to me?” the elf said quietly.

There was silence for a moment, then Meneris heard the sound of a shuddering indrawn breath. “Yes. Maker, _yes_ ,” Dorian whispered.

“Are you alright to talk, you don’t sound well.” Meneris replied as he waited to be told off, or cut off as he’d done earlier.

“I tried to call you but there was no answer,” said Dorian softly. “I - I fell asleep, still trying to reach you. I’m... I’m so sorry, _amatus_ , so so sorry.” He bit back a sob; his head was already aching after having effectively cried himself into exhaustion earlier, and he hadn’t thought he’d had any tears left. “I’m a bit of a mess,” he added, attempting to laugh weakly.

“I ...left, I needed to calm down. Why don’t you go to sleep and we can speak once you’ve rested.” Meneris replied as he sipped his drink and waited.

“I should have told you where I was going,” Dorian said quietly. “You were right to be angry.”

“A lot of that was fear, I’m just glad you’re not ...that I didn’t lose you.” Meneris replied cautiously.

Dorian inhaled slowly as he rolled over on his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Still very much alive, _amatus_ ,” he assured his husband. He stared at the ceiling and frowned slightly at a couple of rust-coloured spots upon the white plastered ceiling; it took him a moment to realise it must be a memento from the assassin’s attempt upon his life a week ago. “Huh. I just realised. I must have been managing to bleed in two places simultaneously - here and Qarinus,” he mused very softly to himself.

“Are you healed? Do...do I need to send Fenris to you? No...he’s not able to take care of anyone else right now.” Meneris said after a long sip of his drink. 

“Oh, I appear to be quite recovered from my... my magical mishap,” Dorian reassured him. “It was a week ago, after all. Mostly I’m just tired and sick at heart, love.” He sighed as he closed his eyes. It was easier to pretend Meneris were right there in the room with him if he closed his eyes. “Dare I ask what has happened to Fenris? Has something happened?”

“Do you ...do you remember what happened with Invictus or are things messed up since you did this time travel thing?” Meneris asked as he flopped backwards and stared up at the canopy.

“It was over a week ago for me, Meneris,” Dorian pointed out. “I remember - but I was just concerned in case something might have happened since I left. What of Anders, and Zevran? I was most worried by Anders - he must have been hit by whatever Force magic it was that Invictus used at pretty much point blank range; I’m concerned in case he experienced after effects? And that odd white-haired chap - have you found out who he was yet?” He could feel himself becoming more awake as they spoke and his natural curiosity reasserted itself over his exhaustion.

Meneris sighed tiredly. “Anders is recovering, slowly. That white haired man...is another Anders it seems like. Zevran was somehow walking on a broken leg and last I heard Fenris was giving him an earful that could be heard halfway down the hall from the infirmary. I’m worried about Fenris, he’s had no chance to...process what has happened or to have some time to himself with everyone in his rooms for now.” 

“Another Anders?” exclaimed Dorian as he sat up. “My word. From the same Thedas as Hal and Arden, do you think?”

“Not sure, he’s got little more sense than a mabari pup. He’s seemed to have imprinted on Nathaniel and Fenris...he insisted on meeting him and he wasn’t well afterward. I’ll check on them tomorrow, my mind is ...tired,” Meneris said softly.

Dorian’s eyes softened as he heard the weariness in Meneris’ voice. “I should come back,” he said gently. “Maker knows, I want to.”

“Now that I know you aren’t dead in a ditch, I am not as panicked amatus.” Meneris replied as he let his eyes close. “If you wish to come back, do so because it’s safe and you have finished your business there. I will be here waiting.”

Dorian glanced over at the bedside table. “I have lyrium. I could be with you in a few minutes, _amatus_ ,” he murmured. “It should not be so draining to merely move through physical space rather than also through time.” He was musing half to himself, already mentally evaluating how tired he was and how much lyrium he should take in order to pull off the teleportation spell safely; it wouldn’t do to appear in Meneris’ bedroom only to fall over in a faint as he’d done in Qarinus, after all.

“I would love that but if you are not well, or don’t ...wait, how can you do that without Fenris?” Meneris asked groggily.

Dorian chuckled. “How do you think I got to Qarinus a week ago, _amatus_?”

“I don’t know… this magic shit is beyond me, you know that.” Meneris said. “Sorry...I’m so tired.”

Dorian sighed. “Would you sleep better with me there, _amatus_?” he asked gently. “Or should I leave you to sleep?” He leaned over the potions box and pulled out an elfroot potion to quell his headache as he waited for Meneris to answer.

“Want you at my side....please.” Meneris replied quietly.

Dorian popped the cork off the potion bottle with his thumb and downed it swiftly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grimaced at the bitter after-taste. “One moment, _amatus_ ; let me let Arden know where I’ve gone. Would hardly do to abruptly disappear with no warning; I have most certainly learned my lesson upon that score.”

He threw the empty bottle aside and strode to the door of his room then headed down the hall to tap lightly on the door to Arden’s room; it opened, and the blond apostate glanced around it, startled. “Dorian?”

“I need to return to Skyhold. Immediately,” he added as Arden blinked.

“But... Fenris isn’t here,” he replied slowly.

“No, but that doesn’t matter - I can do it without him,” replied Dorian. “I felt it prudent to let you know I will be gone - overnight, at least.”

“Wait - let me come see - how exactly do you intend to do this?” asked Arden, his curiosity piqued.

“Come and see,” smiled Dorian as he turned and headed back to his room, lifting the ring closer to his lips as he walked. “I shall be with you very shortly, love. I just need to take lyrium first. Are you alone in your rooms?”

“Who else would be here?” Meneris said as he struggled to sit against the headboard. “I’ll wait for you.”

Dorian smiled, though he knew Meneris couldn’t see it. “Keep your eyes on your balcony, _amatus_ , and give me five minutes.” He swiped his thumb across the ring to silence it; he wasn’t sure what effect the active connection between the rings would do whilst opening the portal but it would probably be prudent not to risk it.

He downed a vial of lyrium and turned at a tap on the door; he let Arden in with a smile.

“What are you up to, Dorian?” asked the blond enchanter suspiciously.

“Pay attention, Arden; it might be useful for you to know this trick too,” said Dorian, before he began casting the modified version of the Fade-stepping spell.

“I... think I see what you’re doing,” said Arden slowly as Dorian threw open the portal much as he usually would for a portal with Fenris, then deftly wove the Fade-stepping spell through the magic of the portal. The shimmer of energy spun then parted to show a view of Meneris’ rooms from the balcony, the Inquisitor himself suddenly straightening with a loud oath as the portal energies lit up his room in scintillating light.

“Creators!” Meneris said as he scrambled backwards. “Do...Dorian?”

Dorian turned towards Arden with a dazzling grin. “You see?”

“I do indeed,” nodded Arden, impressed, before he glanced back to Meneris. “Ah, good evening, Inquisitor! I should leave you in peace I guess?”

“I shall be back tomorrow directly after breakfast,” said Dorian. “Do try and squelch Calpernia, wouldn’t you?” He winced. “That was... mortifying.”

“I can imagine,” nodded Arden. “Give my regards to Anders,” he added as Dorian stepped through the portal and waved a hand to dismiss it; the Tevinter magister turned back towards Arden, eyes widening as he suddenly remembered what Meneris had said about the other Anders, but the energies had dispersed.

“Ah well, I’ll have to tell him tomorrow,” he mused to himself before he turned back to face Meneris once more. He felt a brief wave of dizziness and stood still until it passed, mentally checklisting how he felt. He seemed to have suffered no ill effect with this hop however - tired, certainly, but without the sense of a void inside with his energy draining into it. He called a small wisp of light up into his hand and was gratified to note he could do so easily. He gave Meneris a dazzling grin, all teeth and triumph.

The elf launched himself at his husband, grateful to have him back. “I was so worried.” he whispered against Dorian’s chest. The magister staggered back a few steps until his back hit the balcony rail, driving the breath from his body.

“Forgive me, my love,” he managed. “I am so, so sorry.” The grin had vanished from his face to be replaced by a look of earnest contrition.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, what if the last thing I’d thought or said would have been in anger? Forgive me please?” Meneris said as he held on to Dorian tight as if he’d vanish again.

“Only if you forgive me for acting so thoughtlessly and worrying you in the first place,” breathed Dorian as he wrapped his arms around the elf and pressed kisses to Meneris’ shoulder, the side of his neck and then kissed along his jaw until he could claim his mouth.

The elven warrior let himself be kissed until Dorian pulled back for air. “I shouldn’t have laid into you like that.” Meneris rested his head against the taller man’s chest and sighed. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” agreed Dorian quietly. “But you were worried.”

“No excuse to do it, come to bed...now that you’re here I ...I could sleep for a week.” Meneris said as he pulled back and took Dorian’s hand. Dorian hesitated; he was still dirty and dusty from the road. But as he gazed into Meneris’ eyes, he realised that didn’t matter. What had been a couple of days to the Inquisitor had been over a week apart for Dorian. He could wash in the morning.

He let Meneris draw him back towards the bed, where he proceeded to show Meneris just how much he’d missed him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything finally catches up to Anders.

Since the warrior’s room was still taken by Anders and Ellowynne, they’d retreated to the Antivan’s rooms, they’d gone to bed after a promise for the warrior to take Zevran back to his rooms after breakfast. Neither was fond of the idea of him being laid up, but it was too late in the day to request Anders move to his new quarters.

Fenris woke up next to Zevran with a startled cry. Another nightmare had jarred him from uneasy rest, this one with the added bonus of seeing his Anders as a mindless puppet of Danarius. He’d been helpless to do anything against the possessed form of their husband, each moment he was forced to watch Anders dance to the demon’s tune seemed to last forever.

He turned to see if he’d woken the other elf with his distress, and frowned when he caught golden eyes regarding him with worry. “Apologies...I did not wish to wake you.”

“I was not sleeping,” Zevran shrugged. “But your dreams seem troubled, _carissimi_.”

“Are you in pain still? Should I get you a potion, or have Hal come to do more healing?” Fenris replied.

Zevran grimaced slightly. “There is no more he can do; time must do the rest, and a certain discomfort is to be expected, no?” He turned his head to stare up at the canopy of the bed with a low sigh. “I can tell you, my heart - I shall swiftly grow tired of this view.”

There was a soft, low _caw_ then a whirr of wings as one of the ravens swooped over to perch upon the headboard near Zevran’s head. The bird tilted its head to one side and eyed him with its beady, alien gaze, and the Antivan laughed.

“And will you tell upon me to Hal if I attempt to break this confinement?” he asked the bird; it croaked at him as it shifted slightly, talons scraping on the wood. Zevran chuckled softly. “I do believe you would, too,” he said softly.

“I promised to return you to my rooms today, Anders should be able to move to his new quarters. I will be careful with you my heart. Though I will tell on you and yell if you try to walk on your broken leg, again,” Fenris replied as he took Zevran’s hand in his. “I am troubled...but I do not wish to revisit my nightmares.”

“The events of the other morning?” guessed Zevran. “Ah. I do not doubt we have all been having restless dreams, _carissimi_. I am content to remain here for now - I have my birds to keep me company and tell me all that they see, after all - but I am worried for Anders. His hurt was far more grievous than mine.”

“I would not trap you up here, it was just easier to bring you back with Anders still in my bed.” Fenris rubbed his thumb over the rings on Zevran’s hand. “I fear...I am afraid of Invictus now. It pains me to say it, but I don’t know that I will be able to….to be with him after this.” 

“Despite his healing of Invictus, I suspect that Anders, too, shares your fear. And I do not think Ellowynne will overcome her terror of him any time soon either,” Zevran shrugged then stilled with a faint, pained hiss. “And I... think I shall have physical reminders of what happened for some time yet also.”

“It’s going to hurt him to know he did this to us. To know I fear him so. We’ve been through so much Zevran, so damned much and now I feel like my heart will be in my throat every time he’s around; let alone sleeping next to him, letting him touch me.” Fenris’ voice trailed off in a ragged sob. 

“Me, I do not think I fear for myself; it was for Anders I was terrified,” confessed Zevran. “When I saw him lying in that pool of blood.... _Carissimi_ , I do not think my heart would have withstood that pain had he been truly dead. For a little while, I thought Invictus had killed him. I only sought to protect you and Ellowynne with my last breath. I was not certain I would survive, in truth. But I was in too much pain to be dead, and so.” He glanced away for a moment, his eyes blinking rapidly; as Fenris glanced over at him, he thought he saw a glint of light off a droplet of water upon the pale gold eyelashes but Zevran blinked again, and it was gone.

“I would have Anders come see me, when he is able,” he said very softly. 

“You can cry with me, it’s alright Zevran.” Fenris gave him a weak smile as he gently squeezed the other elf’s fingers between his. “I’m surprised I’m not a sobbing mess as it is.”

Zevran glanced back at him and blinked; as Fenris watched, a single tear rolled slowly down the side of Zevran’s face. “I am....am not used to... to tears, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured hoarsely. “And yet of late, I find myself weeping all too often.”

Fenris stretched out alongside his husband and pulled him gently to his chest. “Men like us don’t get a chance to weep without a price. Let go, it’s alright my heart.” 

The raven shifted uneasily and gave another low _caw_ as Zevran buried his face against Fenris’ chest and wept silently. After a moment, two other ravens flew over to take up perches near the first, all three birds staring at Zevran and tilting their heads this way and that, as though perplexed by the behaviour of their master.

Fenris hummed softly as he held Zevran, his own tears falling as he let the other elf have his grief.

Zevran quietened after a while, lying still in Fenris’ arms as he stared at nothing, his breathing slowly returning to normal apart from the occasional soft hitch. 

Fenris kissed him on the cheek before he closed his eyes with a sigh. “I do not wish to leave your arms, not for anything.”

Zevran lifted his head and smiled sadly. “Ah, but you cannot lay a-bed with me forever, _carissimi_ ,” he pointed out. “At the very least, will your children not question your disappearance?”

“Maybe...Pin seems to have warmed to me finally.” Fenris was tired but he was also worried for her, she’d not been found yet. “I should look for her, no one could say where she’s gone to, but I do know she’s in the Keep. I’ll get Callus to help me after we’ve had breakfast.” 

“If Anders is feeling more himself, perhaps he will be able to assist in tracking her down, as he did before?” suggested Zevran. “She may have gone to the Undercroft again, as she did that first time?”

“Perhaps, I do not want to overtax him if he is not quite himself.” Fenris reluctantly sat up with a wince. “I should also check in on Meneris, he wasn’t quite together either.” 

“Dorian still not yet found?” exclaimed Zevran, surprised. “The Inquisitor must be distraught.”

“I don’t know, he wasn’t at dinner and I was not feeling particularly chatty. I’ll stop by before I get us breakfast, I know he’s an early riser as I am. Are you sure you’ll be fine for a bit and you won’t try to walk?” Fenris asked.

One of the ravens flew down to perch on the down comforter over Zevran’s legs; another flew down to land on the Antivan’s bare shoulder with a screech and the third eyed Fenris with its alien stare.

“I think I shall not be permitted to even try,” chuckled Zevran.

“Good, they will come to me if you are foolish, yes?” Fenris said as he gave the nearest bird a gentle stroke over it’s head. It screeched at him, hopping back a few inches before turning and staring at him. The bird on Zevran’s shoulder tugged at the Antivan’s hair until he lay back against the pillows.

“They have their ways of ensuring my compliance,” he grinned. “Sometimes I think I am Crow Master in name only.”

“Be sure to watch him for me. I will return soon my love.” Fenris gave him a kiss before parting, a last reluctant look to his husband before heading downward. As he headed away, his last view of Zevran was the Antivan gently running a finger through the chest feathers of the bird that perched on his pillow, a fond expression upon his face.

**  
Fenris headed to the Inquisitor’s rooms, surprised there was no one telling him to stop his ascent even with it being early. He knocked rather sharply as he awaited Meneris to let him in.

To his surprise, the door was opened by Dorian. The magister was clad in a simple silk robe; the dampness of his hair told the elf that the Tevinter mage had only just stepped out of the bathing chamber. Dorian rested his arm against the door frame. “Fenris! Rather early for a social call isn’t it, _amicus_?” he remarked with a smile.

Fenris’ gaze was drawn to a signet ring on Dorian’s hand that he was fairly certain he’d not seen there before; it bore the crest of House Pavus, and Fenris’ eyes widened. He had seen such seals before; they were worn only by the Lord of a House. Dorian could only be wearing such a ring if he had taken it from the dead hand of Halward Pavus himself before committing his deceased sire’s body to the flames.

Fenris didn’t reply as he kept staring at the ring on his friend’s finger, until the sound of his name drew his attention back. “I apologize. I was coming to check on Meneris since he was rather distraught yesterday...because you were missing,” he finished quietly. 

A look of regret crossed Dorian’s face. “For which I am deeply repentant, Fenris, believe me,” he answered. “But, come - where are my manners? I should not keep you waiting upon the threshold like this; come in!” He stepped back and gestured for Fenris to enter.

“Are you sure? It seems I may have come calling at a bad time.” Fenris hesitated, wary of getting on Meneris’ bad side again.

“Not at all,” answered Dorian. “I arrived back late last night. Meneris and I have been having an early breakfast; I must return to Tevinter in a couple of hours.”

“I beg pardon for interrupting, I’ll make my visit brief so you can have as much time together as possible.” Fenris came in and gave Meneris a smile. “Morning Inquisitor.”

The elf glanced up and waved tiredly. “Creators man, no need to be formal with me. Come and join us if you want.”

Dorian closed the door behind them then crossed to the desk and picked up the glass of wine he had evidently been drinking. “I apologised to Meneris, but I believe I owe apologies to the rest of you also,” he said as he gestured with his wine glass. “I believe my unexpected departure caused no small amount of alarm.”

“A bit yes, but there were other things going on to keep us all on our toes.” Fenris arched an eyebrow at his friend. “A bit early for that isn’t it, amicus?” he asked as he took coffee from Meneris with thanks.

The other elf glanced at Dorian then back at his reports without a word. 

“Medicinal,” shrugged Dorian. “Lack of sleep after riding hard for three days from Qarinus to Minrathous has left me with a splitting headache, and the elfroot is only doing so much to alleviate it - and tastes foul.” The magister shrugged.

“It’s barely past the … never mind, I am just glad you’re still with me. Have more food though, it will absorb your medicinal drink.” Meneris said tiredly.

Fenris sipped his coffee and fell silent, he wasn’t about to get in the middle of what seemed like an old fight.

“Of course, _amatus_ ,” nodded Dorian as he returned to sit on the edge of the bed near the elf, reaching out to select a pastry from the tray. “How are the others? I understand Zevran was somehow walking around on a broken leg? Maker, the man’s capacity for enduring pain is ridiculous!”

“Anders was still asleep, Ellowynne is afraid of Invictus, as I am now. Zevran is ...Zevran.” Fenris sat his cup down and glanced at the signet ring. “How did you get your signet? You were rather upset that you’d missed your father’s funeral if I recall.”

Dorian’s eyes slid away from Fenris and he cleared his throat. “As to that... well. The simple answer is that I didn’t miss it. I laid him to rest a week ago.” He dropped his gaze to his wine glass and took a mouthful to steady himself.

“A week ago? What did you do Dorian?” Fenris glared at the mage. “A week ago you were barely able to stand after receiving news of his death and almost getting taken out yourself.” Fenris asked again.

“Shall I tell him or will you tell your _amicus_ what you’ve pulled off?” Meneris asked. 

“Nothing less than a personal triumph and an act of virtuoso magic,” shrugged Dorian, “and one which, alas, I will never be able to share with my esteemed colleagues of the Vyrantium Circle. Can you imagine what would happen if the ability to travel through time were to fall into the hands of the Magisterium?” He sighed. “I shall have to lock up my notes - and quite possibly destroy the ones relating to the time travel portion of my trip. Thankfully I don’t think there is anyone alive who could duplicate what I’ve done; even Alexius was only able to achieve what he did with regards to time travel because he was using the theories I developed whilst under his tuition as an apprentice - and _his_ efforts were wildly unstable.”

“Bragging on yourself aside, can you explain it in simple terms? I am not stupid but magical theory is beyond me, as you should know Dorian.” Fenris refilled his coffee and continued to glare at the new magister.

Meneris ignored the uncomfortable conversation to get dressed despite having a guest.

Dorian pulled a face and sighed. “Very well. You recall that I had theorised your ability to teleport is less an act of moving _through_ the Fade, as it is one of folding the Fade so that two points touch and then stepping through - thus distance is no object, correct?” As Fenris nodded slowly, Dorian continued. “Well, there’s a spell mages can use that duplicates your Fade-stepping ability to a limited degree - usually to step out of trouble in a fight or put one behind one’s opponent, that sort of thing - much as you do yourself in battle.” He rose and made his way to the desk to top off his glass. “It suddenly came to me that if it is possible to Fade-step from one side of a battlefield to another, there is no real reason why a modification to the spell should permit me to create a long-distance portal just as you and I have done together. And then it suddenly came to me that one could perhaps step through _time_ as well as distance through the Fade. It simply requires being able to calculate the star positions at the precise point in time you wish to travel to - and a large quantity of lyrium.” He sipped his wine then grimaced slightly. “I will confess I misjudged that a trifle; I got carried away once I’d worked out the theory and couldn’t wait to put it into practice whilst already tired. I took only one vial of lyrium and - well. The results were... unpleasant. I’m sure you must have seen what happens when a mage’s spell gets away from them and requires more mana to maintain than the mage possesses, yes?”

“Unfortunately...I’d seen it and more when still in Minrathous.” Fenris replied as he glanced over to where Meneris was rifling through their wardrobe, his attention on the other elf’s body, how muscular he was though still rather...slender. 

“Yes, well, the vial of lyrium I’d downed was rather inadequate to make up for the shortfall and I was fortunate one of the servants heard me arrive and collapse. I awoke in the care of my mother, who has seen me in that state on more than one occasion - though not since my apprentice days, I might add - and was more than adequately capable of dealing with my state of health. I was recovered enough to lay my father to rest that evening - at about the same time as my mother’s letter and the assassin reached me in Minrathous. Thus I was simultaneously at death’s door and yet very much alive at the same moment.”

Fenris tilted his head and glanced up at Dorian. “Would that not cause...what is the word, a paradox if you existed in two places at once? Arden became very ill when he was in our Kirkwall. Invictus ...was emotionally unstable instead of sickened when he was the wrong place. I do not understand this mage business, but you are returned to us at the least.” 

“Well that will be the last of this mage business he does, right love?” Meneris said before pulling a tunic on and lacing up his trousers. He glanced up and caught Fenris staring at him, rather hungrily if he admitted it.

“The teleportation trick - now that one’s useful. But I cannot see myself ever resorting to time travel unless truly desperate indeed,” shrugged Dorian. “I was reasonably confident I would experience no ill effect being in Qarinus at my father’s funeral whilst my earlier self were in Minrathous. What I didn’t dare do was to attempt to make any contact beyond the two notes sent by raven that I had already received here in Skyhold directly before attempting the feat - I knew I had not received any other note or message, and thus I _couldn’t_ \- not even to relieve Meneris’ worry.”

Fenris turned away when he looked up to see Meneris grinning at him. He finished his coffee and rose with a sheepish smile. “I’m glad you’re back and safe even if you must leave so quickly. Be well amicus, and when you return we’ll have a night of drinking and catching up.”

Meneris sauntered over and hugged Dorian. “You don’t have to run off so soon Fenris, we’re not going to bite.”

“Not unless you ask very nicely,” Dorian amended for his husband with a mischievous grin. “And I’ve already had breakfast.”

“I… need to get back to Zevran, excuse me.” Fenris headed off to the kitchens quickly as he could without running.

Dorian blinked, and then chuckled. “Meneris, love, I do believe you frightened him off,” he chided gently.”

“Me? I did no such thing love. I just teased a bit since he was staring. That’s the most interest he’s shown towards me ever. Maybe I should run around nearly naked more often?” Meneris laughed before he kissed his husband. “Come, let’s have some time for us before you absolutely must leave.” 

“Thought you’d never ask,” murmured Dorian as he moved back towards the bed, drawing Meneris after him.

**  
Fenris headed down to his rooms and entered quietly in case the mage was still asleep. He found the other man curled up on his side, arms wrapped around himself and his face hidden by his hair, snoring quietly. He frowned as he stared down at the sleeping man; he hadn’t seen Anders sleep curled up like that in a long time.

As he stared, Anders’ snores ceased and the mage’s breathing changed slightly as Anders shifted slightly. One arm uncurled slightly from around the slender man’s waist as Anders lifted his hand to rub his face clumsily, half asleep as consciousness returned very slowly. 

Fenris sat next to him and wondered if he should wake him fully or let him get there on his own. The last thing he wanted was to startle his husband awake.

Anders made a small noise of discontent as he sleepily brushed his loose hair out of his face, his eyes still closed. He sighed, then his eyes drifted half-open as he wrapped his arm around his midriff again. 

“Love?” Fenris called quietly. Anders blinked sleepily then shifted his head slightly as his eyes opened a little wider to gaze with sleep-glazed eyes at the elf.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What time is it?”

“Early yet, but I was awake and already about so I wanted to check on you before I picked up food for Zevran. He’d like to see you, if you are up for it?” Fenris brushed some of the blond strands from his husband’s face with a smile. 

Anders’ eyes had fluttered shut as he felt Fenris’ fingers brush his cheek, tucking the annoying loose strands back behind his ear before he opened them again and glanced back at Fenris.

“Sure,” he murmured. He uncurled slowly then gradually stretched with a slow groan as his spine cracked before he pushed himself up into an upright position and glanced around the room, blinking blearily as he rubbed at his right eye with the back of his hand. 

He threw back the down comforter and swung his legs to the floor then stood slowly, swaying a little as he wrapped his arms around his stomach again and hunched over slightly before stumbling over to the chair where Fenris had left his spare clothing piled neatly.

“Will you make it there and up all the stairs, do I need to teleport us once I’ve gotten a tray?” Fenris asked with worry.

Anders winced at the thought. “You know what teleporting does to my stomach, love,” he said softly with a rueful smile. “And right now I ache so much inside that I really don’t think throwing up would be a good idea. I can manage the stairs; it just might take me a little longer than it usually would.” He picked out a clean shirt and pants and one of the Anderfels style tunics he was so fond of, then began to dress. “I wouldn’t say no to an elfroot potion if you have one,” he added over his shoulder.

“Of course.” Fenris got him an elfroot and healing potion, leaving them on the table for when Anders was ready. 

Anders dressed slowly then stumbled over to the table and downed the potions one after the other before slowly straightening. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair then turned back towards Fenris. “Sorry, just a bit slow getting started this morning, love,” he shrugged.

“Need help walking?” Fenris asked, his frown getting deeper as he approached.

“No, I should be able to manage,” Anders shrugged. “Where is Zevran?”

“Resting in his room, it would have been too crowded in here with three of us, Ellowynne and Pin in cots so I took him up to his roost. I told him I’d bring him back here after we ate.” Fenris replied.

Anders frowned. “He seemed able to get down the stairs unaided yesterday - what’s wrong with him?” he wondered, then he groaned. “Just how badly was he hurt?” 

“He was walking on a broken leg and he knows how furious I will be if he repeats that mistake.” Fenris snarled.

Anders jerked back a step, his eyes widening briefly before he recovered himself, his gaze dropping to the floor a moment. “Zevran pushes his body too hard,” he sighed. “One of these days he’ll push it beyond even his body’s ability to recover. He’s younger than me but he’s put his body through far more than I ever have. He’s going to cripple himself one of these days.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, he won’t. I’m surprised he didn’t flinch after the..rather unbecoming tantrum I threw in the Infirmary yesterday.” Fenris glanced away as he felt his face flush.

Anders merely raised his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know?” he asked.

“Hal threatened to put me to sleep if I didn’t stop ranting and cussing.” Fenris mumbled. “I’m hungry, aren’t you hungry, breakfast would be nice about now, right?” 

Anders lifted a hand to his mouth to hide a small smirk. “Yes, love, I probably should eat,” he nodded.

“Good, food, yes… come on.” Fenris said as he made for the door. 

Anders nodded, his eyes still twinkling a little as he reached for his staff and followed Fenris, though as they made their way towards the great hall the smile became more pensive and sad as they headed past Invictus’ room. Anders glanced at it as they passed, his footsteps faltering a little before he hurried to catch up with Fenris.

The elven warrior had slowed his steps as he approached the Great Hall and his embarrassment subsided. He turned to see what had kept Anders and gave a frown. “Alright?” 

Anders’ eyes were on the ground as he finally caught up to Fenris. He finally lifted his eyes to those of Fenris with an attempt at a smile as he drew level with the elf. “I...” His smile faltered, then fell. “No. No, I’m... not,” he sighed, glancing back up the hall before he turned back to fenris. “But I’m not sure what I can do about it.”

“I have a feeling we both are not alright for the same reasons. Perhaps we can chat about it with Zevran after we’ve eaten?” Fenris suggested.

Anders nodded unhappily as he turned back towards the great hall. “I’m not sure how much I will actually be able to eat,” he admitted. “I feel like Cullen’s been using me as a practice dummy.”

“You need something, you kept swaying earlier. After we talk, I need to find Pin...she’s been hiding since yesterday afternoon.” Fenris said as he approached the kitchen staff, put in his request and settled in to wait. 

Anders made his way to the nearest chair and sat down, one hand pressed against his stomach as he leaned upon the table, rubbing his face tiredly with his other hand. “What else has been happening whilst I was.... well, out of it?” he asked quietly. 

“The ...other you is, he’s learned some words and was able to say his name. He got upset when I decided to leave and check on you. It’s unsettling, and Hal was...upset.” Fenris replied. 

Anders stilled, then lifted his head slowly. “My... ghost, you mean?” he asked. “Maker, when I saw him... I understood what Ellowynne meant.” He sighed. “You said Hal healed Zevran - how did he seem then? I was... rather distracted - I vaguely remember Hal dropping - fainting? But I couldn’t breathe, and then it all gets rather... confusing until we were back in your room and then....” He dropped his gaze and then wrapped his arms around himself. “Fenris... what are we going to do? About Vic? Maker, I... I still love him, but... I’m - I’m scared. What if - what if Danarius _isn’t_ gone? What if he’s still there, inside him, just waiting? I-” He hunched over and shuddered. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “I hate this. This is - Maker, this was just what Danarius wanted, wasn’t it? To drive us all apart, destroy us. Destroy _you_. He was a demon even before he ever joined with one.” 

“I feel the same way, I brought it up to Zevran when we awoke and I think there’s ...something in me that broke the other day. I’d rather not discuss it out in the open, in case I lose myself again.” Fenris said quietly.

Anders dropped his head into his hands. “I dreamed I was back in the Fade again at Adamant,” he murmured softly. “I could hear Nightmare again, telling Invictus how he would lose both of us. That - that I would die first, as you and he watched, and then you would die, and there would be nothing he could do to save either of us. It - it almost happened. Just as Nightmare said.” His voice shook.

“Do you think that’s who he found? Somehow?” Fenris dropped into a seat with a sigh. 

Anders straightened and gave Fenris a look of horror, his eyes wide as all the colour drained from his face. “Maker, I pray not - Fenris, you didn’t see that thing, it was -” He broke off and swallowed hard, fighting down a wave of nausea, his gorge rising at the very idea of having to face Nightmare over again. “We couldn’t fight it - it stood between us and the rift that would lead us back through the Veil,” he said desperately. “Arden stayed behind to _die_ , he had no hope of beating that - that _thing_. That he survived and managed to escape was nothing short of -”

He broke off suddenly. 

“What?” prompted Fenris quietly. “Some thought has occurred to you?”

“He didn’t escape,” Anders said softly. “Nightmare must have let him go and then watched. It couldn’t escape that pocket of the Fade on its own... Meneris would have closed the rift at Adamant the moment we were all clear. So it must have waited until Arden found another rift - and then when he escaped, it was able to follow him somehow. Or at least, some small part of it was, out of that closed pocket of the Fade - out into the wider Fade. And then once it was free, I suppose it must have attached itself to Arden, hoping he would give in as Sebastian tortured him.”

“Except Arden was stronger than this Nightmare supposed?” said Fenris; his lip curled in a sneer. “Would that Invictus had been as strong!”

Anders sighed. “So instead it was summoned by Pin’s master, Xerxeus, and he bound it to Danarius.” He shook his head slowly. “No wonder it went for Invictus. Danarius had reason to hate him for taking you from him - and Nightmare already had reason to want to target Invictus from our time at Adamant when we stood against it to help Meneris regain his memories. It touched his mind - it touched all our minds, it would have known exactly how to prey upon his fears and possess him.”

“You think it may still possess him?” said Fenris darkly.

“Maker, I _don’t know_ ,” said Anders miserably. “That’s the worst of it. Ellowynne said my - my ghost _ate_ the thing that was in Invictus, but she’s only a child and wouldn’t have understood what she was seeing. If the other Anders were still possessed by Vengeance, it may have been able to rip this Nightmare Danarius from him.” He dropped his head back into his hands and groaned. 

“Your son hit him with a dagger coated in magebane. If Invictus had still been possessed, the demon would have attacked - unless the magebane neutralised it the way it did Justice when I needed to quieten him for a while,” he added. “But... this is no ordinary demon we’re talking about. It’s Danarius and something that’s almost as powerful in its own way as an arch-demon; it was what was controlling all the Warden mages at Adamant. So maybe it can overcome the instinctive urge to lash out when its host is threatened.”

He gave a helpless groan. “Fenris, I honestly don’t know what to think. This is... beyond my knowledge. I suspect beyond _anyone’s_ knowledge.”

One of the serving women set their breakfast tray down between them. Anders glanced at it as she moved away. “Maker, any appetite I had is gone. If I try to eat, I know I’m going to throw up,” he moaned.

“Come, you’re going to eat _something_ today. I won’t have you fainting and knocking yourself senseless.” Fenris said as he hefted the tray.

Anders gave him a miserable look. “We need to talk to Meneris about this. If I’m right - if that thing was Nightmare bonded to Danarius - then it seemed to be beaten far too easily. It must still be here somewhere. And he needs to know, because it could go after him next.” He glanced at the tray then glanced away again as he clutched his stomach, looking pale and clammy.

“Anders...what do you need?” Fenris asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” whimpered Anders as he hunched over, letting his hair fall forward to hide his face. “To feel safe again. Not to feel like the floor just dropped out from under me.” He tried to laugh but it came out as more of a desperate giggle.

“Fenris?” Cullen had paused by their table and was staring down at Anders in consternation. “Is Anders alright?”

“No...he isn’t, frankly I’m not. Can you take him to his new quarters and I will visit him later? He feels ill and I have kept Zevran waiting quite a while for his breakfast.” Fenris said.

“If you - if you trust me with him,” said Cullen slowly, staring at Fenris uncertainly. 

“I don’t… honestly but either you take him to his rooms or you take this tray to Zevran, pick one.” Fenris snapped.

Cullen blinked at Fenris, then glanced to Anders. “Anders, will you let me help you?”

Anders stretched a hand out towards Fenris, not looking up. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Alright, tray to Zevran it is,” nodded Cullen as he bent down and picked up the tray. “I’ll... keep Zevran company for a while.” He glanced at Anders, clearly worried about the blond mage, then headed off in the direction of the rookery.

Fenris called upon what little patience he had left and took Anders hand. “Where are your new rooms?” he asked.

“I - I don’t know,” the mage confessed distractedly. “We should speak to Meneris. This is too important.”

“Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?” Fenris asked quietly. 

“If you teleport us I _am_ going to throw up,” Anders groaned. “It’s not far. I can walk.”

“I don’t know his room well enough to just teleport. Come, feel free to use me for support if you need it.” Fenris said as he tried to keep from snapping at Anders. It wasn’t the former warden’s fault he was frayed to the limit.

“I’m sorry, love,” murmured Anders as he rose to his feet and leaned on Fenris.

Fenris said nothing as he helped Anders up to Meneris’ office and hoped the other elf was in.Anders leaned against the wall outside the door and merely stood waiting, slightly hunched over and hugging himself. Fenris wasn’t certain if the blond mage were about to throw up or faint - and from the expression on Anders’ face, the enchanter wasn’t sure either.

Meneris came out, startled to find Fenris at his door again, with Anders looking worse for wear. “Go on, I’ll get some brandy for us.”

Anders stumbled in and glanced at Dorian, who was sitting up in the bed and looking rather sweaty and dishevelled as he arched an eyebrow at Anders in surprise. Anders made his way to the nearest chair and dropped into it heavily, hunching over against the cramping he could feel in his stomach. Whether it were nerves, reaction to what he’d worked out about the nature of the demon that had possessed his husband, residual lingering pain from Invictus’ attack on him or all three together, he couldn’t say.

Fenris’ eyes widened and he blushed at having interrupted. “I…I’m sorry to have barged in twice now.”

Dorian waved away the apology. “It was high time I was getting dressed anyway - I should eat _something_ before I go, because Maker only knows when I’ll next get a chance to eat properly today; I’m scheduled for a long session in the Magisterium regarding my father’s estate and holdings. There will be several of my father’s former allies seeking to establish new contacts, forge new alliances and reinforce old ones with me, and Maker but I’d hate to do that on an empty stomach.” He rose from the bed and pulled the silk robe on the end of the bed around his shoulders then turned to the wardrobe to hunt out one of the more formal outfits he kept there.

Anders barely even glanced in Dorian’s direction, too distracted and distressed to pay attention.

“Still...I apologize.” Fenris said as he sat by Anders and took his hand. “Love...can you take some tea at least?” 

“I can have that sent if you wish, perhaps mint tea and something bland would suffice? Have you eaten yet Fenris?” asked the Inquisitor as he scribbled a note for a runner.

Dorian was dressing swiftly yet unhurried as he glanced over at the blond mage. “My word - what’s happened?” he asked as he tied the belt of his undertunic then reached for a robe in black with an elaborate snake design in crimson.

“We...started discussing Invictus and whether he’s possibly still possessed.” Fenris replied.

Dorian frowned, his hands stilling upon the robe. “Is that likely?” he asked quietly.

“Let me guess, neither of you know and now you can’t let go of the what if?”Meneris said as he joined them.

Fenris only nodded, his gaze on the floor as he let his mind go wild with ideas of how things might still be wrong.

“It... gets worse,” said Anders in a hushed voice as he glanced up at Meneris. “The demon... I think it might be Nightmare, Or, a fragment of it, at least,” said Anders. Quietly he laid out his theory and watched as Meneris’ face darkened before the Inquisitor began to pace.

“This Nightmare thing - this is what you all faced in the Fade at Adamant?” guessed Dorian.

“Meneris and I, Invictus and Hal - yes,” Anders nodded. “We already know Hal is safe, and both Nightmare and Danarius had reason to hate Hawke - and Nightmare may seek to come after you next,” he added.

“Why Anders? He’s done nothing wrong!” Fenris said with a glance to the other men. “Why wouldn’t it want me? I...offered myself and it didn’t want that apparently.” 

“We know it wanted more than you Fenris, and it will not have you.” Meneris replied testily.

“It only wanted me simply to torture Hawke with,” Anders said tonelessly. “It was the nightmare it showed him. It took our fears and showed them to us. For Hawke, apparently that was the prospect of you two watching me die painfully, before he would be forced to watch you die, Fenris. For Hal, it played on the fears of Endrin that he would become a demon just as Justice did.” He glanced at Meneris. “It could touch our innermost nightmares.”

“Then how do we destroy it?” Meneris asked.

“Can we even do that?” Fenris countered.

“Yes,” said Anders quietly. “Demons can be destroyed. So can spirits. Or at least, their form can be shredded so much and dispersed that it would take them hundreds of years to reform, from what I can gather.” He shrugged. “I have seen two arch-demons die. I have killed countless lesser demons myself. If we all act together, I am certain we can destroy it. The question is... does it still possess Hawke?”

Fenris leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I’ll go find out, if he’s still possessed and he kills me, tell Pin and Callus I love them and I’m sorry.” the elven fighter got to his feet but was stopped by Anders grasping his wrist like a manacle. “Let me go.”

“No,” said Anders in a low voice. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? We have to act together! What good does it do if you throw your life away needlessly? Do you really want to die so much that you’d just go give yourself up like that? Maker, Fenris - just think about what happened the last time! He incapacitated you without so much as breaking a sweat, and he nearly killed me right in front of you! And look at what he did to Zevran! And he hurt your daughter as well. Fenris, what good do you think it would do to face this thing alone?” He stared into Fenris’ eyes with a pleading expression. “Don’t throw your life away, love. Please.”

“This fight is between me and Danarius, do you not ...I’m already wracked with guilt for all you have suffered, and I will not give that thing the chance to get it’s claws in you again. I’d give my life in a heartbeat---” he was cut off when Meneris got in his face.

“Do I have to slap you again?” the shorter elf asked.

“You do it, and I’ll break you in half I don’t care if you are the Inquisitor.” Fenris snapped.

“Stop it - _stop it!!_ ” cried Anders, his eyes wide, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched at his hair in desperation. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said? Fenris, _this isn’t about Danarius_! This is Nightmare - almost an arch-demon; it was an ally of Corypheus. It hates Meneris and all of us that escaped its little realm in the Fade. It’s not just you it wants - it wants to bring Hawke’s nightmare to life, and it’s going to do everything it can to use you and I to achieve that. It nearly succeeded once; if you give yourself to it, it’ll only come for me next, and Meneris, and then everything we hold dear! It’ll destroy Pin, and Cal, and Wynne, and - and - Maker, _I can’t lose you!!_ ” He dropped to his knees, still clutching Fenris’ wrist with one hand whilst he clutched his hair with the other. “Don’t go,” he begged in a tearful whisper. “I don’t want you do die.”

“Anders get up for Mythal’s sake!” Fenris said as he picked the mage up and got him back in the chair. “Stop making a damn scene...I’ll remain here.” 

The only reason Meneris didn’t give the other elf what for was thanks to a servant arriving with a tray. He made Anders a cup of mint tea and set it by him. “There, drink that and there’s plain ...something for you.” 

Anders glanced at the tea, bewildered and distracted; he shook his head, glancing back at Fenris. He had no more words left. He still clung to Fenris’ wrist; he knew that Fenris was far stronger than he and if he chose to leave, nothing Anders could do could stop him unless he used magic. He closed his eyes and fervently prayed - to Mythal, Andraste, the Maker - anyone who was listening, that Fenris would see reason and not walk out that door.

“Anders, let go. I’m staying...just drink your tea.” Fenris said in defeat.

“Anders, he’s not going anywhere I promise.” Meneris said with a glare for the bigger elf. 

Anders stared at Fenris’ wrist then slowly, hesitantly, released his grip, staring at Fenris fearfully as though he expected the elf to flee the moment he was free of the mage’s grasp. Hawke seemed lost to him already; he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Fenris too. It was like all his nightmares coming true.

Instead of fleeing, Fenris sat next to Anders and poured himself a drink despite the early hour and taking Dorian to task over the same thing. He offered his hand so that his husband would see he wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Anders took Fenris’ hand, his own trembling badly. After all that had happened over the past three days, he could feel himself steadily falling apart. The attack, almost dying, the other Anders showing up and now this. It had been months of stress, of one thing after another, and now all this coming on top of the assassination attempt - when he was still not fully recovered from the poison’s after-effects. He’d already told Fenris he couldn’t do this any more.

“I can’t... can’t....” He couldn’t get the words out.

“Love?” rumbled Fenris quietly.

Anders stared numbly at his pale hand in Fenris’ sure, warm grasp. He felt something give way inside; an emptiness, as his vision seemed to narrow down to just their hands. He was vaguely aware of someone speaking to him; someone touched his shoulder. It felt almost as though it weren’t happening to him; as though he had retreated to somewhere else, only looking on through eyes that felt detached from him somehow.

He knew what was happening. He’d felt this before; this sense of detachment, loss of self, though not since Kirkwall - those final days, after he’d killed hundreds, when he was merely existing from moment to moment until surely someone - Hawke, Fenris, perhaps Varric - would end his life for what he’d done and yet somehow they didn't. And before that, it had happened after they’d slain the Broodmother in the Deep Roads, he and the other Wardens, when the adrenaline had worn off and reaction finally set in.

And before that... the darkness of solitary.

He closed his eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. If he were no longer there, none of this could touch him.

“Anders?” said Dorian quietly as he stared at the other mage. He exchanged a worried glance with Fenris as Anders continued to stare into space with a dull, hopeless expression upon his face before he closed his eyes.

“Anders... love, please look at me, speak - something, anything!” pleaded Fenris.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Meneris as he crossed the room to stare down at the unresponsive blond mage.

“Shock, I think,” said Dorian as he frowned at Anders thoughtfully. “ _Amicus_ , have you ever seen Anders like this before?”

“Kirkwall,” Fenris nodded. “After Solona’s blood magic released him and he realised what he’d done. He just seemed to... switch off.” He released Anders’ hand, and the mage let it drop. Fenris grasped Anders by the shoulders and shook him gently, then harder as there was no response. “Anders, wake up! Don’t do this, you can’t just check out on me now!”

“If he’s in shock, I can’t imagine shaking him and shouting is going to do much good,” shrugged Meneris. “What do we do with him now? Dorian?”

“Haven’t a clue I’m afraid, _amatus_ ,” the Tevinter magister shook his head. “He’s the healer, after all. I suggest sending for Hal; maybe he’ll be able to do something.”

“This is all Vic’s fault,” growled Fenris. “If he hadn’t let that damned demon in, none of this would have happened! This is Danarius’ doing! He’s taken Vic from us but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him have Anders like this as well!”

“Easy, _amicus_ ,” said Dorian quietly, as Meneris stepped out to ask the guards to send for Hal. The Inquisitor returned and stared down at Anders with a frown.

“Will he eat and drink like this? Or does he just... switch off entirely?”

“When he did this in Kirkwall, he went where guided. If you held a cup to his lips, he would drink it; if you put food in his hands, he would eat - after a fashion,” shrugged Fenris. 

“What brought him out of it last time?” asked Dorian.

“I do not know,” confessed Fenris. “We took ship from Kirkwall when we heard rumours that a Divine March had been ordered on the city and Varric sent warning of the Seekers looking for Hawke. Anders was like this then - like a living corpse. There was a storm; we made it into one of the ship’s boats, but we got split up from Anders - and you saw how he was when we found him near Crestwood,” he added with a shrug. “I do not know what caused him to snap out of it - perhaps it was when he woke up on the shore alone.”

Anders had opened his eyes again, but his gaze was empty and vacant. “Maker, it’s like looking at one of the Tranquil,” murmured Dorian.

“He became withdrawn and practically shut down on the journey from Kirkwall to Seheron when we went to rescue Isabela,” Fenris said quietly. “But it wasn’t as bad as this.”

Meneris tried to get Anders to take his tea and frowned when the mage didn’t accept the cup. “You said he’d take it?”

Dorian took the cup from Meneris. “No, he said that Anders would drink if you put the cup to his lips,” he remarked. He carefully placed the rim of the cup against Anders’ lips and tilted it until the liquid touched Anders’ mouth. The blond mage began to drink the tea, mechanically, not glancing at the other mage as he merely gazed vacantly at nothing. Dorian held the cup carefully and watched as Anders drank until the cup was empty.

“I guess we’ll have to take it in turns to keep him fed and watered,” the Tevinter magister shrugged as he set the empty cup down. “Perhaps we should have him moved to the infirmary?”

“I don’t know.” Fenris said as he took his seat and tried to keep himself together. “You will be late, go back to the Magisterium, I’ll take care of him Dorian.”

Dorian laid a hand on Fenris’ shoulder and gripped it lightly. “ _Amicus_ , I am deeply sorry. This... it must be very hard for you to see him like this, after all that has happened.” He glanced back at Meneris. “ _Amatus_ , I must return to Minrathous, but I shall discharge my duties as swiftly as I can and return soon. I believe Arden’s official visit as Grand Enchanter is more or less done; I shall send him back as soon as I can.”

Fenris’ voice hitched as he tried to reply, but all he could do was try and keep from breaking down himself.

“Go love, I’ll see you soon.” Meneris led Dorian to the balcony so they could say farewell in private. 

“I hate to leave you all whilst Anders is in this state, and knowing that demon... _thing_ may still be lurking,” Dorian confessed. “I shall call you through the ring this evening; please let me know what happens. I shall speak to Arden, and if he is ready to return then I shall teleport him here to this balcony, _amatus_. But... oh Dumat, love, I hate to leave you.” He embraced Meneris and pressed kisses to the elven warrior’s jaw and mouth.

“I know love, I know… but it will arise more suspicion if you do not return as expected this morning. Be safe, and if you need something before this evening use the ring. I love you.” Meneris rose up to kiss Dorian goodbye, and reluctantly pulled back to let him open a portal.

Dorian straightened and pulled a vial of lyrium from the pocket of his robes. Downing it swiftly, he shook out his hands and flexed his fingers, then drew on his magic to shape and craft the portal, drawing it open as he reached into the Fade, shaping and twisting it until the portal snapped open to reveal Dorian’s room at the embassy in Minrathous.

“I shall return when I may, _amatus_ ,” said Dorian. He glanced back at the still figure of Anders and sighed, then stepped through the portal. He turned and raised a hand in farewell to Meneris, and then the portal winked out of existence.

Meneris sighed as he turned to see Fenris and Anders both in a state, the mage worse off but the elven warrior seemed to be on the same path. He shut the balcony door, joined them and waited for Hal.

It was probably no more than perhaps half an hour before the young healer’s footsteps could be heard on the stairs as he took them two at a time in his haste; but to Meneris and Fenris, the time seemed interminably long.

Hal glanced around as he reached the top of the stairs and made his way straight over to where they sat next to Anders, who hadn’t moved in all that time.

“I came as fast as I could - what’s happened?” he panted as he stared at Meneris.

“He...checked out like after the fight with Danarius. Is there room in the infirmary?” Fenris replied.

“There is,” nodded Hal. He crouched down in front of Anders, who seemed to stare through him; the young healer waved a hand slowly in front of Anders’ face, and the blond mage didn’t react - not even to blink. Hal frowned, then pressed the palm of his hand against Anders’ forehead then closed his own eyes as his hand glowed with blue healing magic.

“He’s still in a lot of physical pain from the Force magic Danarius hit him with,” he said quietly. “His body is still weakened from the poisoning of the assassination attempt. But beyond that, I can feel no reason why he should retreat within himself like this. It is... an illness, a malady, of the mind - this isn’t something I can fix with magic.” He opened his eyes and lowered his hand as he stared up at Anders. “I can admit him to the infirmary where he will be cared for, but I do not know what will bring him out except, perhaps, time.” He glanced back at Meneris, and then Fenris. “I am sorry. I wish I could do more. But this is something that magic cannot fix.”

Fenris nodded and rose. “Let’s get him to the infirmary then.” 

Meneris took Anders’ other side and helped Fenris, his gaze going between them as they slowly made their way down the hall. Anders stumbled between them, still gazing at nothing as he let them lead him, Hal walking a little way ahead and glancing back often with a look of worry on his face.

They were aware of people stopping to stare, whispers rippling out as they passed. Hal made straight for the infirmary and led them to a private side room near to Anders’ own office.

“Here; he’ll be safe in here, and I’ll have Sister Rebecca assigned to care for him,” he said as they got Anders sat down on the edge of the bed. The blond mage hunched inward as he perched on the edge of the mattress, his eyes now gazing sightlessly down at his hands where they rested limply in his lap. 

Fenris gently nudged Anders as he suggested the mage lie back. He sat down finally and put his head in his hands. 

“Would you... like to be alone with him for a while?” asked Hal gently as he straightened Anders’ legs upon the bed then carefully brushed stray strands of hair out of Anders’ eyes. The mage lay still, staring into space.

“Yes… please.” Fenris said without looking up.

Hal withdrew silently and closed the door.

Fenris stared at Anders as the blond mage lay in the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling; and finally the elf gave into the tears that had been threatening to overwhelm his composure since Anders retreated inside himself.

He felt incredibly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a slight hiatus now until next week whilst Cypheroftyr is away at PAX East I'm afraid! But enjoy this chapter in the meantime. :-)  
>  \- The_Arkadian


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone hits their breaking point, Pin is ...somewhere and Anders, well neither of them are really having a good day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long, tw: drunkenness and suicidal ideation.

“ _This is most unjust of you, child._ ” The spirit’s voice was petulant.

“Not listening,” replied Pin in a sing-song voice as she picked her way through the detritus of the old abandoned store room. “I don’t talk to demons.”

She was aware of the glowing blue form of the spirit hovering just at the edge of her field of vision and felt a surge of annoyance. 

“ _I have already told you that I am no demon. I am a spirit -_ ”

“- of justice, yes, yes, so you’ve already said,” she snapped. “Repeatedly.” She bent down and picked up a worn old book; turning it over in her hands, she tried to open it as carefully as she could but the pages cracked and crumbled to fragments in her hands. She sighed and set it down again. “I’m still not going to take you to Anders. You have something for him? Tell him yourself.”

“ _You know that I cannot._ ”

“So you need some mortal to give you a piggy-back, right. Like I said - not interested. I may be young but I’m not stupid.”

If it were possible for a spirit to sigh in exasperation, she was sure that Justice would be doing precisely that right now. As it was, she was well aware of the feeling of frustration that radiated from the spirit’s form.

“ _Would you have him linger in perpetual childhood, bereft of all knowledge of who he truly is until the day he dies? Child, that is unjust and wrong!_ ”

She turned back and glared at him. “It seems to me you didn’t exactly do him a lot of favours whilst you were possessing him - what makes you think I’ll help you do it again?”

“ _We... should not have joined. I would not seek to join with him a second time, only... return... that which I should never have taken from him._ ” 

Pin could have sworn the spirit sounded almost remorseful. She might almost have believed it - if her father and Anders hadn’t spoken of the demon Vengeance around her. Contrite as this spirit might seem, she didn’t trust it. Demons would try all manner of tricks to persuade you to let them in, and this one evidently just wanted to get its claws back into its human host. She’d been hiding down here for days now as it tried to persuade her to help it. It was irksome and tiring, but at least whilst it was down here it wasn’t trying to crawl back inside the white-haired stranger, and maybe the longer she lurked down here the more chance she might figure a way to drive this “spirit” away permanently.

“Should have thought of that sooner. Not interested. He’s better off without you.” She turned away and picked her way through the detritus towards the doorway as the spirit began to protest the injustice once more.

***

Invictus opened his eyes and groaned as he looked up to the rafters of his room, regretting the cold, empty spot beside him. “I can’t keep doing this, I have to do something besides stare at the walls.” he forced himself up and into a bath before he requested a tray, parchment and for the Commander to come by. 

Once he’d eaten, he settled in to write several missives, the longest to Fenris, and the one to Anders almost as lengthy. Finally, he sent a short, almost curt note requesting magebane be added to his noon meal along with a guard on his room. He wasn’t going to let anyone else be hurt because of him. 

He waited what seemed like hours before a very confused, and concerned Cullen showed up at his door. Invictus let him in, sure the other man was ready to argue with him.

“Hawke, just what is this all about? Magebane?” said the Commander, rubbing the back of his neck as he frowned at Invictus.

“I’m not safe anymore, not like I really was in Kirkwall but this is different. I need to ...be sure that thing is gone. I need to show them I can’t harm them if it’s not.” Invictus replied, his manner subdued.

Cullen’s frown deepened. “You think it may still be inside you?” he asked slowly. “Maker, how is this even possible? Most people turn into abominations when the demon takes over but this... you... none of this makes sense, Hawke.” Cullen shook his head, a look of obvious concern on his face. “We’ve got Zevran confined to his bed with a broken leg, Anders is practically catatonic, and I’m expecting Fenris to go to pieces any minute. I have half the templars up in arms, and half the mages likewise.” 

“What do you mean, Anders is catatonic? What happened, it was seeing me wasn’t it?” Invictus’ voice hitched and he curled in a little further on himself. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Cullen replied. “Something happened when he was talking to the Inquisitor, and he just... switched off as Meneris and Dorian were talking to him. Hal said he was in a lot of physical pain inside that was slowly healing, but there was nothing he could do for Anders’ mental reaction - he said he’d likely come out in his own time.” He shrugged helplessly. “Perhaps Dorian could tell you what happened.”

“No...no other mage should come near me! Just...put me in a cell, that way I won’t be able to hurt anyone. That’s better right?” Vic pleaded. 

“Hawke, I can’t just lock you away - you’re the First Enchanter, for Andraste’s sake! Have you any idea what the repercussions would be in the College if I, a former templar, were to lock you up in a cell? I’d have open rebellion amongst the mages and it would be the Mage-Templar war all over again!” Cullen shook his head. “No. I’ll not put you in a cell; I’m not prepared to risk that. I’ll have you confined to quarters and guards set on your door, but that’s as far as I’m prepared to go, Hawke. You’re putting me in a very difficult position, do you realise that? My Grand Enchanter is catatonic, his double is in Tevinter, and the tension between the templars and mages is on a knife edge.” Cullen’s expression was close to desperate. 

Invictus let out a laugh, he knew he was edging into hysterics...until he realized what Cullen had said. “ _My_ Grand Enchanter?” He asked with a glare at the other man.

Cullen blinked, then glanced away, his skin growing flushed as a blush crossed his cheeks and spread slowly down his face. “I, I, er... well, I have a duty - a responsibility to guard his welfare and... well... I, ah, I promised I’d look after him and... well...” Cullen tailed off, his voice stammering as he stared off to one side and rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “Anders and I have... history. It’s, ah, complicated.”

Invictus dropped his gaze to the bedding he sat on. “Doesn’t matter, even when he comes around he’ll probably be set back if I’m around. Just take care of him, assuming he...he.” the mage caught himself before he could fall apart in front of Cullen. 

“Please leave me for now, I will remain in my room until something can be done about me. Goodbye Cullen.” Vic wanted him to leave, he wanted a lot of things but mostly he needed the other man to go before he gave into the urge to rage at him for ...he didn’t even know what for, he just felt angry rather than upset. 

Cullen’s face fell. “Hawke... Invictus. I’m sorry about all of this. We’ll... do the best we can.” He retreated to the doorway. “If you need anything, just ask one of the guards,” he added quietly before he turned and left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Invictus was alone with his thoughts.

**

Parcival leaned over the ledger, his eyes scanning through the previous entries. He frowned as he read the neatly inscribed copperplate script of Hal that described the state of the Grand Enchanter when he had been brought to the infirmary some six hours previously. Parcival had come to relieve Hal near midnight and finally waved the red-haired healer off perhaps an hour after midnight and ordered him to go get some rest; both First Enchanter Hawke and Grand Enchanter Anders had agreed two months ago that Parcival was ready to face his duties as an enchanter and an apprentice no longer. They’d done away with the old system of Harrowing in favour of a series of tests and exams based on what Dorian had reported of the Circle in Vyrantium, for which Parcival was heartily glad. He’d heard only dire things of the Harrowing.

Thus he’d felt himself emboldened to order Hal to go rest and threatened dire consequences if the red-haired mage showed his face back in the infirmary in anything less than 12 hours. Hal had blinked at him, startled, and then slowly grinned before retiring to his own quarters.

The dawn bell had rung perhaps an hour ago and it was time to make the rounds. He frowned down now at the neat entries then closed the ledger and glanced towards the private room next to the Grand Enchanter’s office. 

“Something wrong, love?” asked Rebecca as she approached him with a mug of steaming tea.

“Better for seeing you,” Parcival smiled fondly as he took the mug then slipped an arm around her as she leaned in against him. They were alone for the moment and unobserved. “You should be careful; Mother Giselle mistrusts you enough already,” he said softly before sipping at his tea.

“Mother Giselle has no further say over me,” shrugged Rebecca. 

Parcival frowned and glanced up at her. “Oh? And why would that be?” he asked, and then a look of alarm crossed his face. “Becky - she didn’t -”

“She did nothing,” said Rebecca quietly yet firmly. “It was me who did it. I renounced my vows, Parcival. The old ways are wrong. And if the Chantry says I cannot love a mage, then I want nothing further of it.”

“Oh love,” said Parcival softly. He set his mug aside and drew her down into his lap. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck as they kissed, long, soft and gentle until finally they parted for breath.

“Grand Enchanter Anders was brought in earlier. I should go check, make sure he’s OK,” said Parcival with a little reluctance. Rebecca smiled and stood.

“Go on then - make sure he’s alright,” she nodded. “I’ll be in the dispensary if you need me - I think we’re running short of crystal grace.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” nodded Parcival as he rose to his feet and headed to the small private room. He knocked lightly then opened the door and glanced in.

Fenris didn’t reply to the knock, he was tired and not up to anyone’s queries about Anders or forbid they ask, his own state. He rested his head upon the bed, his chin upon the pillow next to Anders who was sleeping peacefully.

Parcival glanced around the room as he entered and then his footsteps slowed as his eyes widened at the sight of a dragon curled about Anders as the blond mage slept, the dragon’s head upon the pillow next to the defenseless mage’s head, one wing half outstretched over the unconscious man’s form, the long, sinuous tail coiling upon the floor.

He tried to speak, but all that escaped his lips was a strangled gasp as he stared in stunned amazement at the dragon. A distant part of his mind was shouting to get out, to run - just grab Becky and flee. And yet his duty as a healer kept him rooted to the spot with fear for Anders.

The dragon opened it’s eyes and turned at the door opening. Fenris tilted his head at Parcival but didn’t do more than stare at the young man.

Parcival’s eyes widened as the dragon stared at him, and he couldn’t help the faint whimper that escaped his lips before he mastered himself with a visible effort. “Where - where did you come from?” he managed in a breathless whisper. “Please - please don’t hurt him. You’re... you’re not going to... to hurt him, are you?” He blinked. “No... no, you’d - you’d have killed him already if you were going to at all. You’re... you’re not a normal dragon... are you?”

The dragon huffed as it stared down Parcival then slowly, awkwardly shook its head no. Fenris hadn’t figured out if he could speak as a dragon, and he wondered if that would make the poor boy pass out if he did so.

Parcival took a deeper breath and stepped closer to the bed, his movements slow and cautious. “Can... can you speak?” he asked, hesitant.

Fenris shook his head no again and started to uncoil from around Anders before he approached Parcival. The colour drained from the young man’s face as he took a step back before he checked himself. He stared up at the dragon and swallowed hard.

Fenris lowered himself until he was eye level with the mage, and tried to think of a way to communicate while ...not an elf. Parcival’s eyes widened as he tried not to flinch away from the dragon.

“You’re no ordinary dragon,” he whispered. “Are you? No dragon would ever behave like this. How did you even _get_ in here anyway? Are you... are you a spirit? Are you a spirit come to guard Anders?” He shivered in spite of himself. “You _look_ real... your breath even _feels_ real... but I could be hallucinating, or....” His voice trailed off as he stared into the deep depths of the dragon’s green gaze, and he found he couldn’t look away. “What... what are you?” he breathed.

Fenris tried to frown at Parcival’s questioning, and decided to try one last thing, he extended a wing out where the young man could see it, hopeful he added everything up. 

Parcival’s eyes had glazed over slightly, the young man seemingly in a daze that somehow seemed familiar to Fenris as he stared at the mage. Suddenly it came to him; he’d seen a similar expression on Dorian’s face once, when he’d been near enough to seemingly pick up on the Tevinter mage’s very thoughts. All he picked up from Parcival was the sharp, sourish scent of fear and... yes, fascination, though no sense of recognition as the mage turned his gaze to Fenris’ wing, covered in swirls of lyrium silver.

Fenris stared at Parcival as he tried to will the young man to make the connection to the dragon he was staring at and him. He looked around in frustration as the mage didn’t seem to be getting it. Parcival had taken a swaying step towards him, and then another, his eyes glazed over and his breathing becoming slow and heavy. He seemed somehow entranced, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he stared into the emerald-green eyes of the dragon.

Fenris pulled back as Parcival approached, almost like a scared cat as he backed up and glared at the mage. He had little room to maneuver without endangering Anders or the other mage. He wasn’t sure what to do other than change back or blow smoke in warning. Parcival took another stumbling step towards the dragon then halted. His eyes were half-lidded; he looked like a sleepwalker, no longer aware of his surroundings as he stared into the dragon’s eyes.

Fenris backpedaled until he had nowhere to go, and it was change back or let Parcival fall upon him. He shifted back to an elf and caught the mage as he almost landed where he’d been. “Parcival, it’s me.”

The mage blinked slowly as he seemed to come back to himself by degrees; he put a hand to his forehead as he groaned. “Fenris? What... Maker, I feel so dizzy. What happened?” He lifted his head and glanced around, confused.

“You...were scared when you found me as a dragon. I think...I did something when I stared at you too long.” the elf said quietly. “Can you stand?”

“I...I think so,” Parcival nodded shakily. As Fenris helped him upright, the young mage clutched at Fenris’ sleeve to steady himself. He drew a deep breath and ran his free hand down over his face. “I feel as though I’ve been asleep for hours.”

“Apologies, something about me as a dragon seems to have that effect on mages. Do you need a stamina potion or something?” Fenris helped him to a seat before he turned to check on Anders.

Anders was staring blankly at Fenris, blinking slowly as he lay there, curled upon his side. 

“He hasn’t changed, probably won’t even go to the privy unless I take him. Mythal…” his voice shook as he sat next to the mage and caressed his face gently.

“According to Hal’s notes, it’s nothing physical that can be healed, exactly,” said Parcival as he approached the bed and took Anders’ limp wrist to feel for the pulse before he leaned over the catatonic enchanter to peer into one unfocused eye. “He’s withdrawn inside himself. His body is slowly healing from the physical trauma of the attack but his mind....” He straightened with a sigh. “I’m not sure what might draw him out of himself again. Some greater force, something....” He broke off and frowned as he glanced back at Fenris. 

The elf glanced up when Parcival trailed off. “What are you looking at me like that for?” he asked.

“Have you tried lighting your brands around him whilst he’s been in this state?” asked Parcival. “I’m not sure if you were aware of it, but when you light up, then it’s like your lyrium sings - or at least, that’s how it feels to a mage like myself. It’s very alluring; and when I walked in and found you in dragon form, it was like that a little. And then you looked at me and the last thing I remember was not being able to hear anything but that singing, only far louder than I ever remember hearing it. It was hypnotic, irresistible, compelling. Captivating. Overwhelming....” Parcival’s voice became hushed as he recalled how it had felt just before he’d lost all awareness of himself. 

“I… am unsure if that would work or drive him deeper into himself. Should I try to light them, as myself or as a dragon?” Fenris said as he continued to caress Anders’ face, a frown at how he stared blankly ahead. 

“Try as yourself first,” suggested Parcival. 

The warrior let his brands light slowly, his hand resting on Anders as he waited to see what would happen. “Please...do something.”

There was no reaction at first, but after a moment, Anders blinked and a very faint frown creased his brow slightly as the fingers of the hand still in Parcival’s grasp briefly twitched. As the light from the brands grew steadily brighter, Anders’ lips parted and he gave a very soft sigh.

Fenris put more thought into letting his brands go bright as they could, his eyes closing as the room got to be too much for him. 

Anders shifted his head slightly on the pillow, and he gave a very soft little moan.

“He’s reacting,” said Parcival as he squinted against the fierce bright light. 

“I… don't’ know how long I can do this for.” Fenris replied as he focused on staying alight.

Anders’ fingers went limp again and his brow smoothed as he became still once more. 

Parcival sighed. “It’s not quite enough, I fear,” he replied as he shook his head. 

Fenris let his brands go dim as he sighed. “That ...I’d hoped he was coming to.”

Parcival laid Anders’ hand down gently as the blond mage stared blankly once more. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “Perhaps... did he react at all earlier when you were in dragon form, or did you not try to catch his eye? Was he awake or asleep when you transformed?”

“He was asleep, I...was upset and changed.” Fenris swallowed as he considered trying again as a dragon. “Step back, I’ll need room to shift.”

Parcival nodded and stepped back, pressing himself against the wall as he lowered his eyes, keeping his gaze on Anders’ empty face rather than risk becoming entranced by the dragon’s eyes once more as Fenris moved into to middle of the room. The elf’s form blazed suddenly with brilliant white light as his form shifted, changed and grew, glowing wings unfolding from his back as his form elongated until the light slowly dimmed and the dragon turned and gazed down at the unresponsive mage, ignoring the healer who kept his eyes averted.

The dragon lowered his head until it was level with Anders’ blank gaze, until a large jewel-like emerald-green eye regarded the mage intently.

Anders’ eyes slowly focused upon the immense green eye as his breath came a little faster. As before, his lips parted, but this time he gave a little whimper before growing silent, his gaze fixed upon the dragon’s gaze even as his eyes glazed over, entranced and hypnotised by the dragon’s regard. 

Fenris rested his head next to Anders without breaking his gaze, unsure what to do now that he’d gotten him to focus on him and not stare blindly at the wall. 

Parcival carefully leaned over, avoiding the dragon’s gaze, as he pressed two fingers to the side of Anders’ throat and felt for his pulse. “His heart is beating much faster,” he said quietly. “And... I can feel his magic stirring. You’re awakening _something_ in him; I’m not sure what though.” He frowned, pondering. “Can you... speak in that form at all?”

Fenris opened his mouth and tried to call Anders name, though it was low and rougher than his usual voice. “An...Anders…” he finally got out. 

“Yes?” murmured Anders in a dreamy voice as he gazed entranced into the dragon’s eye.

“Love?” Fenris replied, his focus on his husband. “Come back to us...please.” he said slowly, still feeling his way around speaking in his dragon form.

“Come...back?” echoed Anders faintly. “But... afraid....”

“Don’t fear… please come back. I...need you.” Fenris said slowly.

“Can’t,” Anders sighed softly. “Lost.” He lifted one hand slowly and stretched it out towards the dragon. “Singing... calling to me. I’m... lost in the singing....” He smiled faintly as his eyes continued to stare glazedly into the dragon’s eye, drifting half-closed.

“Find me, I need you Anders, please. I am… alone, and scared.” Fenris begged. 

"Perhaps if you shift back to your elven form, he will come out of it and wake up - as I did?" suggested Parcival. He had to fight the urge to turn and look at the dragon; he could hear the lyrium singing enticingly.

“Alright.” Fenris shifted back to himself and cradled Anders face gently. “I’m begging you, I need you Anders, please come back.” 

Anders blinked rapidly, just as Parcival had, his eyes slowly losing the glazed look as he managed to focus on Fenris’ face. “Love?” he murmured hesitantly, a confused expression upon his face.

“Anders?” Fenris said hopefully as he watched his husband. Anders rolled slightly away from Fenris on the bed as his gaze roved over the room, the look of confusion slowly giving way to one of fear. “Where am I? What’s happened?” he asked, a slightly frantic note creeping into his voice. He pushed himself up to stare about the room, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. 

“You’re in the infirmary...you, you went away for a bit. It’s my fault, I’m so sorry love. Forgive me, please.” Fenris said as he sat by Anders, hopeful the mage was himself again.

Anders shivered as he glanced about himself, and he wrapped his arms about himself as his gaze jerked to Fenris. “What do you mean, ‘went away’?” he whispered. “I don’t remember. I was in the Inquisitor’s rooms, we... we were talking, but... Fenris, what happened to me? How long have I been like this? I feel so weak and dizzy.”

Fenris pulled Anders to him and held his husband. “I was thoughtless and upset you, you kind of turned off and just were, staring blankly at a wall until we tried to get you to drink tea. Even then you didn’t really do anything except what we suggested. I’m sorry, I’m sorry...I’m scared and I thought you were gone for good and ..” the elf’s voice hitched as he held on to the mage.

Anders leaned into Fenris’ touch as he still hugged himself and shivered; after a moment, he lifted a hand to his forehead. “How long have I been out for?” he murmured. “I feel so... strange.”

“A little over a day, I kind of lost track when I shifted to a dragon.” Fenris knew he was close to his own check out as they sat there. “Parcival thought of me changing and trying to reach you with my lyrium, he’s to thank for bringing you out of it.” 

Anders glanced up to Parcival who gave him a reassuring smile.

Anders shifted a little so he could rest his head on Fenris’ shoulder. “I feel as though I’ve been asleep for days,” he murmured. “This all feels like I’m still dreaming, like it’s not entirely real.”

“You’re awake, you’re back. It’s real, sadly.” Fenris said as he fought tears of relief. “Thank you, thank you. I was so scared Anders.”

“Scared?” said Anders, as he lifted his head slightly and glanced at Fenris. “For me?”

“Yes...for all of us. I was alone, and so scared.” Fenris sniffed as he rested his head on Anders shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Anders as he bowed his head. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I... don’t even remember much of what happened. I remember sitting in the Inquisitor’s rooms, and we were talking but... I can’t even remember what we were talking about or why we were there. It’s all just a haze. I have this vague memory of... singing, somewhere in the back of my mind, but nothing more.”

“It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re back with us. I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t leave again, please.” Fenris babbled as he tried to keep himself together but realized he was failing. 

Anders glanced up and finally took in the expression on Fenris’ face and the tone in his voice. He lifted a hand to Fenris’ cheek.

“Please don’t fall apart on me, love,” he murmured. “I... I don’t think I can handle that... not like this, when I’m not even feeling fully myself. Please... just try to hold it together a little longer?”

“I..I’ll try, I’m sorry. I haven’t… had a chance to really deal with anything since things went to the Void. Can we go to your new room and just be together for a while?” Fenris said quietly as he tried to pull himself together enough to keep Anders from worrying. 

“I don’t even know where it is,” Anders confessed, and then suddenly giggled.

Fenris turned to look at Parcival and sighed. “Can you get a guard to show us the way please? And I’ll take it from there once I get Anders settled.” he pulled away gently and got to his feet. “I still need to find Pin, and see Zevran.” his eyes widened. “Fucking void, he’s probably worried and he can’t get down the stairs, dammit!”

“You mean the Spymaster is alone in the Rookery?” said Parcival, startled. “Has anyone thought to make sure trays are sent up to him?”

Fenris paled as he tried to remember if anyone would have had something sent besides breakfast the previous day. The tray he had sent up to the elf with Cullen would not have sustained Zevran all through the following day through until this morning. “I...don’t know.” he replied quietly before he turned to Anders. “Come with me to see him? I’ll take us.” 

Anders nodded, a look of worry on his face.

“Parcival, have a tray sent, I’ll meet them at his door.” Fenris slipped an arm around Anders and gave him an apologetic look before his brands lit, and they disappeared in a flash of light.

The moment they appeared in Zevran’s room, there was the screech of raven voices as several immense black-winged birds dived and swooped at Fenris, screaming angrily at him. Anders dropped to the floor and wrapped his arms around his head as the birds lashed out with talons and beaks; Fenris reeled as taloned claws lashed out at his face and he felt the sting as they drew blood.

“Stop it!” Fenris cried as he tried to keep back from them, his arms went up to deflect them. “Zevran, call them off!” There was no answer as the birds continued to wheel about him and lashed out with their claws as they dove at his face. As the elf ducked away, he saw for himself why the Antivan hadn’t answered; Zevran lay sprawled upon the floor, his face hidden by the tousled pale blond hair that lay scattered about his head.

“No… no… Zevran.” Fenris batted the birds away as he went over to the elf and turned him over. “Mythal, please...no.” He turned the Antivan’s face towards him and lightly tapped at his cheek. “Answer me.” Zevran’s face was pale, his eyes sunken as the Antivan lay unresponsive, his breathing shallow and weak.

Fenris heard a low cursing behind him and Anders staggered as he ducked away from the swooping attacks of the birds before he dropped to his knees next to Zevran then hastily flung up a shield over them before shaking his hair back over his shoulders. As Fenris glanced at him pleadingly, he realised Anders’ face was bleeding from a score of scratches across his cheeks, forehead and the bridge of his nose, several coming alarmingly close to the mage’s eyes; and he wondered if his own face was similarly scored and bleeding.

Anders laid his hands on Zevran’s body and frowned as he concentrated. “He’s badly dehydrated and he hasn’t eaten in more than a day and a half, from the feeling of it.” He peeled back one of Zevran’s eyelids gently with his thumb and frowned as he stared at Zevran’s dull gold eye. “Not good - and I can feel his body temperature is elevated. Possible infection in his weakened state. We’ll need to get him back into bed and get some water into him as fast as possible.”

He sent a surge of reinvigorating magic through Zevran’s unconscious body, and the blond elf slowly began to stir with a low, weak groan as his eyelids fluttered.

“I’m sorry love...I’ll go down and wait for the tray after you’re in bed.” Fenris gently picked Zevran up and laid him out in his bed, and winced as he started to feel the scratches on his face. “Heal yourself, the birds got you as well.” he said to Anders dully.

“You did not come,” Zevran murmured weakly, his voice faint as he opened his eyes and glanced up at Fenris. “I waited, but you did not return... the water jug was empty, I couldn’t....”

“Fenris, use your talent - teleport to the kitchen, bring water,” said Anders urgently as he knelt on the edge of the bed and began to check the Antivan over carefully for any sign that Zevran had further injured himself in the fall.

“Yes...ser,” Fenris said before he stepped back and vanished from the room, and nearly scared the kitchen staff out of their wits when he re-appeared. One of the scullery maids screamed and dropped the pan she was carrying, spilling roast potatoes all over the floor and splashing hot fat upon the flagstones. Several other maids shrieked in alarm and the nearest cook hefted the large cleaver in her hand nervously.

“Apologies, the Spymaster is very ill and I need water for him, please.” Fenris asked as he sidestepped the fat that was spilling over the stones. 

“Of course, ser,” said one of the young serving boys who were turning a large roast boar upon a spit over a nearby fire. He leapt up and ran to fill a jug from one of the pumps near the sinks, then brought it back swiftly. “Is there anything else, ser?” he asked.

“Please make sure extra water is sent to the Spymaster’s quarters, thank you.” Fenris stepped back and lit his brands before he slipped back to Zevran’s rooms. He poured out a half glass and held it out to Anders. “I’ve asked for extra water to be sent with his tray.”

Anders was sitting on the bed, his back to the headboard, his arm around the half-conscious Antivan; he looked around with a start as Fenris reappeared, his face pale and stricken. He seemed very shaken as he held a trembling hand out for the glass silently but he said nothing as he set it to Zevran’s lips. After a moment, the elf began to sip the water then gulped it thirstily until the glass was drained. Silently Anders held the glass out to be refilled; Zevran downed the second glass almost as swiftly as the first, slowly reviving.

Fenris stood ready to refill the water for his husband, but remained silent as he guiltily watched his spouses together. He’d failed to keep his word, and it was eating at him as he stood there.

Zevran sipped slower at the third glass, managing to gesture weakly with one hand when he’d had enough. He lifted his eyes to Fenris as he rested his head upon Anders’ shoulder; the blond mage turned his head a little to gently press a kiss to the tousled pale gold hair.

The ravens had quietened; five of them were perched upon the foot of the bed, another three upon the headboard. One of those had sidled up close to Anders’ head and was gently tweaking a lock of Anders’ hair. Behind Fenris he heard a soft _caw_ from one of the other birds as they shifted restlessly on their perches.

“They calmed once you’d gone,” Anders said, his voice shaking a little. 

“Of course.” Fenris said dully. He sat the jug on the Antivan’s nightstand, unsure what he should do. He was going to excuse himself but the loud knock below saved him. 

“That will be the tray from the kitchen,” Anders said quietly.

Fenris hurried down to fetch it, though his return was slowed by the jug he carried in the hand he wasn’t balancing the tray on. He put a plate together for Zevran, as well as for Anders and offered to help the Antivan take his meal. 

“If you’ll let me, I would assist you Zevran.” he asked. Anders turned and pulled up the pillows to support Zevran better then shifted away slightly once he’d gotten Zevran settled. He moved aside as Fenris approached the bed and glanced away.

The warrior sat and diced food for Zevran, then offered him pieces slowly, mindful of how tired his husband was. He was quiet as he waited for the other elf to take more of the bread he’d dipped into gravy for him.

Anders picked at his own food, withdrawn and troubled; he glanced at Zevran often, but his eyes lifted to Fenris only once before he glanced away again. He ate with little appetite.

Zevran ate steadily, evidently starving hungry, his body desperately craving sustenance after being starved so soon after the heavy healing work Hal had had to perform on his leg and other injuries. After a little while, he’d recovered enough to begin feeding himself, having to check himself often before he could simply bolt his food.  
Fenris waited until he was done, and simply got another portion for the Antivan elf. “Do you still need help?” he asked softly.

“I think I can manage now, _carissimi_ ,” replied Zevran. His voice was still weak, but there seemed more life in him now as he started in on the second plate, even as Anders had barely touched his own food.

“Alright...I am at your service if you need something else.” Fenris sat back and let his gaze drop to the floor as the other men took their time eating. 

Anders finally gave up even the pretense of eating and leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He didn’t stir, even when the raven that had been playing with his hair earlier hopped over and began tugging gently on it again.

Fenris glanced up and noticed Anders wasn’t eating. “Are you done? I’ll take your plate away if you are.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Anders answered, his voice low and colourless.

The warrior caught himself before he snapped at the mage to eat, instead he simply took the half-full plate away, and gave Anders his own water before he sat again. Anders cradled the glass in his hands as he ignored the raven which was now sitting on his shoulder and tugging harder at the strand of hair. Zevran paused eating to glance at the raven then at Anders with a small frown before glancing to Fenris. After a moment, he went back to steadily clearing his plate.

Fenris waited until Zevran was done before he approached. “Are you done? Can I get either of you anything else?” he asked. 

“I think I am fine,” said Zevran as he leaned back with a content sigh. “I think it has been very long indeed since I felt such hunger.”

“It’s because Hal did a lot of healing on you,” said Anders dully. “The body needs to eat more to fuel the healing. WIthout it, you effectively were starving, because the healing depletes what natural reserves your body had. The dehydration only made it worse.” He didn’t open his eyes, though he did lift one hand to brush half-heartedly at the raven, which hopped away for a moment before returning to his shoulder and reaching for the strand of hair again.

“I’ll be back after I return the tray to the kitchens, and do something about these scratches, excuse me.” Fenris took the tray and hurried as fast as he could with one hand encumbered and the other clutching the rail for support. He was halfway down the stairs when suddenly one of the ravens came swooping down after him.

“Ser! Ser! Ser!” it cried harshly as it swooped at him and snatched at his hair. “ _Ser!!_ ”  
Fenris stumbled and dropped the tray as the bird yanked at him. “Stop.. leave me alone!” he begged as he righted himself. 

“Yes _ser!_ Yes _ser!!_ ” it screamed at him, diving at him once more before circling him then winging swiftly away back up towards Zevran’s room. From somewhere overhead he heard a choked off low sob.

The elf lit his brands and escaped from the bird’s relentless attack to appear in his room, where he stumbled to his bed and broke down.

**

While everyone else seemed to be having a very bad, no good day Callus was still searching for his sister. He’d tried Anders old quarters, her room, the College and had come up with nothing. He wasn’t sure where to start in the Undercroft and he was running out of ideas. “Pin where the Void have you gone off to?” he muttered as he wandered the halls.

Hal headed towards the infirmary, somewhat distracted; he’d slept later than he’d planned, the quietness of the halls only emphasising how many hours it had been since the dawn bell had rung. He’d have to skip breakfast; he doubted anyone would still be serving food in the great hall at this hour. Maybe he could grab something left in the infirmary.

Someone ran into him as he turned the corner and the young, slender healer was knocked back suddenly to sprawl upon the stone floor, stunned and breathless.

Callus stumbled back with a curse as he ran into someone. He looked up to see that red-headed mage, Hal he recalled had taken the brunt of their run in. “Sorry ...Enchanter Hal. I am looking for my sister and wasn’t watching where I was going.” he offered a hand up to the other man.

Hal glanced up at the hand and then at its owner, rubbing his chest slowly. He was still winded; it took him a moment before he was able to take Callus’ hand to be pulled to his feet. “Apology... apology accepted,” he wheezed. “Maker, I was not expecting that.” He braced himself against Callus for a moment before straightening and stepping back to straighten his robes then brush his hair back out of his face. “Your sister is still missing then?”

“Yes and I am running out of places to look. This damned place is too big!” Callus said as brushed himself off. 

“Where have you looked thus far - or rather, where have you not yet looked?” asked Hal. He sighed. “Anders would be able to help, if he were not in a catatonic state at present. I fear he will not be able to help, and my own skills are not as formidable as his - but I may be able to help.”

Callus ticked off everywhere he _had_ looked in his head before he glanced up at Hal. “I’ve not tried the Undercroft, father’s rooms, or wherever they moved Grand Enchanter Anders to.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s had access to Anders’ new rooms - he’s in the infirmary so he hasn’t even seen them himself; I presume Ambassador Montilyet still holds the keys,” replied Hal. “But Fenris’ rooms might be an idea - and wasn’t the Undercroft where Zevran and Anders located her when she fled when you two first arrived?”

“Yes, he found her ...by seeking her life force I think it’s how he explained it since not many people are in it any one time. Do you think she’d have gone to father by now?” Callus asked. 

“If she did, then she wouldn’t have found him in his rooms; he was with Anders when I left there yesterday evening,” replied the healer with a shrug. “He accompanied Anders there and asked to be left alone with the Grand Enchanter. He was still there when Parcival took over from me last night.”

“Hmm, let’s check there first unless you need to attend your duties? I can also check in on the Spymaster, he could probably use company if father is with Anders still.” Callus said. 

Hal smiled ruefully. “Given that Parcival chased me off at about an hour after midnight and threatened to inflict some dire punishment or other upon me if I returned in anything less than twelve hours, I think perhaps my duties can wait a little while,” he shrugged. “Lead on.”

The younger man gave him a smile and looked around to find they were closer to Zevran. “Let’s check on Zevran first since he’s nearby.” Callus headed off towards the stairway.

“By all means,” agreed Hal. “I probably should check how his leg is healing, in any case; I had to perform surgery upon it the day before yesterday. Your master was walking around on a broken leg.”

Callus stopped short and glanced up at Hal. “He was what?” 

Hal shrugged. “Zevran has the highest tolerance to pain of any man I have ever met - and I include your father in that list, by the way. I’ve learned since coming to know him that if Zevran is swearing and making a fuss about an injury, then it’s something minor. When he goes quiet and doesn’t argue with me then I know it’s something truly serious. And he didn’t argue at all when your father brought him to the infirmary. Somehow he actually managed to get down the stairs on that broken leg when Anders collapsed there the other evening - he’s been firmly ordered not to attempt to repeat that or to leave his rooms until I or Parcival tell him he’s allowed now.”

“Hmm, then I hope the door is unlocked or I can pick it if he’s not supposed to get up.” Callus said as they approached the doorway to the Rookery. He knocked hard as he could, just in case someone was with the Antivan.They could hear the ravens calling to each other and shrieking; to Callus’ surprise, the door swung open. Evidently whoever had passed through it most recently had failed to close it properly behind them. They glanced at each other then made their way up the stairs.

One of the ravens swooped over their heads. “Ser! _Ser!!_ ” it screeched at them before flying away again. Hal jerked back, startled, but Callus continued on up; he’d grown used to the ravens’ antics, though they seemed unusually disturbed this morning.

“Zevran, what’s going on?” called the younger elf as he continued upstairs. As he reached the top, he could hear soft sobbing beneath the screeches of the birds.

Hal hurried up the stairs after Callus and glanced around as he reached the top a moment later. Zevran was sitting up in bed, one hand resting on the shoulder of the blond-haired man curled up against him, quietly weeping. 

Hal stopped, surprised. “But... Anders was in a near-coma in the infirmary when I left last night,” he said in a hushed voice. “He was unresponsive, his mind completely retreated inside himself.”

“What is going on around here?” Callus said as he approached. “Zevran? Grand Enchanter?”

Zevran glanced up, his expression sombre. “Anders is not quite himself yet,” he said quietly. “Something your father said has upset him.” He glanced to the ravens which were still shrieking. “Silence,” he called, and suddenly the birds were utterly silent, flying to their perches and regarding them with black, beady eyes. There was one very quiet _caw_ from somewhere within the flock.

“What could he have said to have him like this?” Callus asked in shock.

“He called him ‘ser’,” said Zevran softly, as Anders hunched further in upon himself, burying his face against the Antivan’s bare shoulder. Zevran gently rubbed Anders’ shoulder. “Fenris promised him he would never do that, and it seems that in his current state that was rather more than Anders was able to bear.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You will not speak of this to anyone - either of you,” he added, a hint of steel creeping into his voice.

“I would not, Zevran; you know this,” said Hal as he moved over to the side of the bed to stare down at Anders. “I’m only too glad to see more life in him than I saw last night. I would never speak of him in such a state to anyone other than yourself, Invictus or Fenris; you know me, Zevran. I take such confidences seriously.”

“Be that as it may - you may not speak of this even to them,” replied Zevran. He glanced to Callus. “And you, my apprentice?”

Callus stared at him as he considered Zevran’s words. He was aware of Hal darting him a sharp look, even as Zevran continued to hold him with that steady gaze, his eyes surprisingly cold for their colour. Callus could have sworn there was more warmth in Hal’s single pale blue eye than there were in the golden stare of the Spymaster.

“He is my father, Spymaster. I will not openly betray him, but I will not speak of it freely either.” Callus finally said.

Zevran nodded. “I do not ask you to betray your father, Callus. Only that you do not betray my husband. Keep silent and you keep both promises, no?”

Callus frowned but nodded in agreement finally. “As you wish.”

Zevran nodded, then let his head fall back to rest against the headboard as he closed his eyes. “So. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? It should be obvious that I am... impeded from teaching you at present.” He gestured at his leg, which was splinted and heavily bandaged.

“You really did walk around on that. Maker…” Callus said as he sat down near them. “I am still looking for Pin, and we thought to check on you before we tried father’s rooms.”

Zevran gave him a lop-sided smile. “Yes, I walked on it. It was not so bad - at least, at first. Though I will concede that perhaps trying to catch Anders when he fainted was... not clever of me.”

“Climbing down all those stairs in such a hurry likely didn’t do it any favours either,” remarked Hal drily. “It was only cracked at first - and a hairline crack at that. It was worsened a great deal by your attempting to run down the stairs, and then lifting up Anders when he fainted. And yes, I _know_ that’s what you did, Zevran, even though I fainted myself around that point - because Meneris told me, as did Nathaniel.”

Zevran shrugged. “Anders was hurt. What was I to do?” He glanced back to Callus. “Yes, I walked on it. What is a little pain to a Crow?” He grinned suddenly. “Be glad, my apprentice, that I do not put you through _all_ the training that I myself received. I am a kinder master than those who bought me when I was younger than little Ellowynne.”

“Still, it had to be painful as the void. What do you need from me, any of you?” Callus asked.

“It was not pleasant,” Zevran conceded with another shrug. “But not the most painful thing I have ever experienced. As for what I need - at present, I need nothing; your father brought me food and water, if rather later than promised. But I understand he had other concerns.” He glanced down at Anders and lifted a hand to gently stroke Anders’ hair away from the mage’s face. Anders had quietened, and his eyes were barely half-open as he lay there quietly, resting against Zevran’s side with his head resting against the elf’s shoulder.

“As you wish, if you will excuse me I’ll check in my father’s rooms for Pin or him.” Callus gave them a short bow and headed off.

“I shall be here if you need my help,” Hal called after him as he turned his attention to checking Zevran’s leg.

“Thank you Enchanter Hal.” Callus waved at them before he headed off.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs from the library, he realised the door to the rotunda room was slightly open, and he could hear voices.

“No. No. No Wardens.” He could have sworn that voice was Grand Enchanter Anders.

Another voice sighed. “Anders. _You_ are a Warden. Well. Were. Technically you still are, but -”

“Not going.” 

“Anders -”

“ _NO!_ ”

Callus stopped and stuck his head into the room and was surprised at what he saw.

The Warden, Nathaniel, was pulling at the arm of an almost-naked man with long white hair; from behind, Callus could see the man’s back was criss-crossed with whip scars from shoulders downwards, scars overlaying other scars. He’d seen enough scars on the backs of slaves to recognise a lifetime of abuse mapped into the white-haired man’s flesh. As he stared, the man suddenly twisted out of Nathaniel’s grasp and turned to flee but was brought up short by the sight of the strange elf, and Callus blinked.

The man was Anders - or his white-haired twin.

This Anders stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at Callus.

“Anders, come on - you have to get dressed,” said Nathaniel firmly as he laid his hand on Anders’ shoulder; Anders twisted away, startled out of his stillness. 

“No! Don’t want to go back - not a Warden, _not!_ ” To Callus’ surprise, Anders dropped to the floor and curled up in a ball, crying.

“Warden Commander, are you alright?” Callus said quietly. Nathaniel glanced up at him and sighed.

“I’m fine; Anders is... being stubborn,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Why is he crying? What does he mean won’t go back?” Callus asked as he watched from the doorway.

“Anders... used to be a Grey Warden,” said Nathaniel.

Callus hummed quietly as he watched the dark haired warden struggle to get Anders dressed. 

“Perhaps, let him alone for a bit? Whenever my sister got in a snit about things she’d be like this, but she was also three.” 

“Well, mentally, so is Anders right now,” sighed Nathaniel as he stepped back and gave up for the time being. Anders was hunched over, sobbing pathetically as he scrubbed at his dripping nose with the back of his hand and turned his face away from Nathaniel.

“I’ll leave you to it, but I can send a guard or runner if you need it?” Callus offered.

Anders glanced up at him, sniffing heavily, his eyes red-rimmed and miserable. “Help me,” he whimpered. “P-please?”

The young elf approached slowly, sure to shut the door behind him. “Help you?”

Nathaniel frowned but moved back to watch as Anders looked up at Callus.

“Don’t let him take me back - _please_. I’m scared.” The white-haired man gave Callus an imploring look, his amber-brown eyes wide and full of tears.

“Why are you scared? Nathaniel has been nice to you ...Anders.” Callus said as he knelt down to be on the older man’s level.

“Bad dreams,” whispered Anders as he scrubbed at his eyes with his hand. “I don’t want to die. Not like that.” he shuddered. “Already died once. It hurt.”

Callus turned to face Nathaniel with a curious expression. “What does he mean?” 

Nathaniel drew a deep breath. He glanced at Anders, then moved over towards the door and beckoned to Callus to follow him.

The elf did so reluctantly, he didn’t trust Nathaniel but he wasn’t going to upset this other Anders more than he was. He followed the rogue out and stared at him expectantly.

“Anders... _this_ Anders... comes from a different world - the same one as Hal. We think he must have fallen through a rift somewhere - either one that the Inquisitor hasn’t found and closed yet, or maybe he came through before, and has been wantering ever since. We don’t know, because Anders himself can’t tell us - but it seems that in his own world, Anders was hung - possibly by an angry mob in Kirkwall; again, we have no way of knowing. But it looks like he’s correct - technically he _did_ die, but he was possessed by a spirit. Well,” he amended with a grimace, “More like a demon at that point. But it kept him alive without turning him into an abomination - or at least, not in the usual sense. But if you ask Anders about it, he gets very upset, clutches his throat and makes the most ghastly choking sounds. And weirdly, when our Anders saw him do that, _he_ seemed to start choking and then fainted. Anyway, he’s so wound up right now that I really don’t think making him talk about his death would be good for him.” 

“I meant the not dying like that part, he seems terrified of leaving with you.” Callus replied.

“Ah,” said Nathaniel heavily. “Well. It seems something in Anders remembers being a Warden; he has nightmares, and I guess in those he... remembers things. A Grey Warden’s life tends to be fairly short and the end is usually pretty unpleasant and brutal.” 

“I see...well maybe leave him for now? Hopefully you can get through when he’s not so upset?” Callus offered, his gaze going down the hall to his father’s door instead of on Nathaniel.

“Strangely, his mental development seemed to just... advance, just now, when you spoke to him. That was rather more verbal capability than I’ve heard from him thus far,” Nathaniel frowned. “Would you... would you mind seeing if you can persuade him to speak more? We honestly thought when the demon left him that it had left him mindless, but... well, it seems there may be more left of him in there than we feared.”

Callus glanced down the hall again and flicked his gaze to Nathaniel. “Right now? I am concerned for my father and sister…” 

“Ah, right,” nodded Nathaniel. “I’ll not keep you then.” He shrugged, then turned away, his expression one of weariness as he pushed the door open. Anders was sitting hunched over, clad in just his smallclothes still, cradling a large ginger tabby in his arms and crooning softly to it.

“I’ll return after I check on them, alright?” Callus offered before he hurried on his way to his father’s room and knocked.

A voice, muffled by the door, called out for whoever it was to go away.

“I’m not leaving, let me in father.” Callus replied.

There was a long silence; just as Callus was about to knock again, he heard the sound of a chair being shoved back then stumbling footsteps before the door was cracked open.

“You should go away, Callus,” his father growled quietly. “I am... not good company just now.”

“I am worried about you, and Pin. I’m not leaving.” Callus said as he entered the room cautiously.

Fenris turned away and made his way back to the table where a half-drunk bottle of wine stood next to an empty one. Fenris reached for the half-full bottle and turned away as he brought it to his lips and drank.

“Father… what’s happened?” Callus asked.

Fenris stared at the floor. “I am a failure both as a father and a husband, Callus. I failed to protect your sister and I have no idea where she is. Because of me, Anders has been hurt - and it was I who compounded that hurt; I drove him into a catatonic state last night, and then not an hour ago I hurt him with an ill-thought word when I knew full well that he was yet in a weak, fragile, vulnerable state. Worse, when I did it, I broke a promise to him.” He glanced back at Callus. “Zevran was hurt defending us all from Hawke - and I harmed him further by forgetting my promise to him, also. I did not return when I said I would; he had nothing to eat or drink for far too long, and it might have killed him had I delayed longer.” He slowly turned back to face his son. “So. There you have it; your father is an oath-breaker who harms all he loves. And very shortly you may add ‘drunkard’ to that list also.” He took another long pull from the bottle. 

Callus frowned but made no move to take the bottle. “Help me find Pin, please pater.”

Fenris snorted. “If the girl has any sense she’ll stay as far away from me as she can; I bring disaster to all I touch. Perhaps you should do the same.” He turned away as he downed the last of the wine in his bottle then hurled the empty bottle against the wall where it shattered. He reached for another bottle.

“Father… please don’t do this.” Callus begged. “You’re stronger than this.”

Fenris paused as he opened the bottle, then turned his head slightly. “Am I?” he replied softly. 

“You survived so much, you got us back from the Imperium. You are.” Callus replied.

Fenris made to drink from the bottle but halted, lowering it as he glanced at the floor near Callus’ feet. “No, Callus,” he answered quietly. “I’m not. I’m just one man who couldn’t even protect his own daughter from a monster. A monster that in a way, perhaps I helped create.”

“Papa...don’t say that about yourself.” Callus approached and reached out for the bottle.

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” shrugged Fenris as he pulled away from Callus, cradling the bottle in his hands. “If you had been there, maybe you would have been hurt as well. I can only be thankful that Ellowynne was not harmed - if Hawke had killed her... as he tried to kill my Pin....” He turned away with a low sob. “My little girl!” he choked.

“Fenris! Stop wallowing in pity. This isn’t becoming of the man I call father.” Callus snarled. 

“I already told you I am a failure as a father,” Fenris wept. “Go. Just... go, find your sister, then take her far from here, far from me so I can’t hurt either of you any more.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

“You are damned pathetic, fine go on and cry like a child.” Callus sneered at his father before he snatched the bottle and ran for the door. “You’ve had enough.”

Fenris dropped into a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands as he wept. 

“You are beyond help, I’ll tell them you’re in here crying instead of helping look for Pin if they ask.” Callus slammed the door behind him with a sigh before he slid down to the floor. As he leaned against the door, he could hear Fenris mumbling to himself; after a minute, the young elf realised his father was apologising, over and over, begging for forgiveness - from Pin, Anders, Zevran, Callus himself - and also Invictus.

“Failed you, failed you all,” Fenris sobbed. “Vic... he still has you, I know he has, and it’s going to kill me to have to end you but - but I can’t let this carry on... Mythal, take me too, I just can’t do this any more. I’m not worthy of you, I never was. Just... just let them all be safe, and ... oh Cal, Pin, will either of you ever understand?” He broke down sobbing again.

“What a damned mess…” Callus said as he let his head hit the door and listened to his father’s grief. If Fenris heard the dull thud as Callus hit the door, he gave no sign of it as he wept, sometimes lifting his voice up in a half-articulated prayer to Mythal that broke down before the older elf could finish what he was saying.

Callus set the wine aside and returned to his father, unwilling to leave him despite his harsh words. He set his weapons aside and approached the older elf with hands out. “I can’t leave you like this...void take me.”

Fenris lifted his head slightly and peered up at Callus, his eyes red and raw-looking. “You should,” he murmured brokenly. He glanced away, ashamed.

“I should but I’m not, come on, let’s get you to bed and cleaned up.” Cal said softly.

Fenris rose slowly to his feet and turned towards the bed, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I am sorry,” he said wearily as he rubbed his eyes. “I tried to be strong. But when the ravens started screaming back their mockery of what I had said to Anders...” He sighed almost soundlessly. “It was almost the final straw. I had to face just what it is I had done to Anders - yet again. He deserves better than me. I keep hurting him, and it is wrong to expect him to keep forgiving me forever.” He stumbled towards the bed. “He is better for Zevran than I am. Perhaps they are better for each other.”

“Fenris… father… please stop it. You’re just hurting right now, they love you very much.” Callus poured water for his elder and held the cup to him. “Drink this.”

Fenris sat down on the edge of the bed and obediently took the cup, sipping the water slowly. Tears still rolled slowly down his cheeks, his breath hitching with almost-sobs as he drank, keeping his eyes downcast as his ears seemed to droop dejectedly, everything about him radiating despondency.

“What do you need pater? The truth, not this self pity.” Cal said softly.

Fenris stared at the floor, blinking slowly as he pondered the question. “I need to keep you all safe,” he said quietly. “Or at least to know that you will all be safe. I - I need to know Pin is alright, that Zevran will not suffer lasting harm for my negligence, that Anders will recover. That one day Ellowynne will not wake screaming every night.” He glanced up at Callus. “I wish there were a way to free Invictus without destroying his mind or killing him. But I have already seen what happens to one who has been freed from possession, and... I think he would rather die than be reduced to such an infantile, mindless state, little better than one of the Tranquil.”

“Well we’re not living in a safe world. You can’t be with us every moment of the day. As for Invictus, I don’t know what to do about him pater. Maybe when you are sober, and you are not alone you can face him?” Cal offered.

Fenris laughed mirthlessly. “That was what was the final straw for Anders the night before last, I think,” he admitted. “I was going to face Vic alone. Anders had this theory of what the demon was that had bonded to the spirit of my old master, Danarius. He thought it was the demon Nightmare, a being almost like an arch-demon in power. He suggested it may have slipped through the Veil upon Arden’s coat-tails before your old master bound it to Danarius. When I made to leave, Anders ... went to pieces, then retreated within himself.” Fenris sighed and shook his head. “I do not think I could face such a being alone. It was nearly the death of both Anders and Zevran, and I could do nothing. I... think perhaps I need other help. Maybe it will take all the Inquisition to bring down this monster.” He set the empty cup down on the floor, then stretched out on the bed. “I... am very drunk,” he suddenly realised, blinking slowly as the room seemed to spin.

“Yes, you are. When did you last eat and drink something besides wine?” Callus asked as he nudged Fenris to lie down. 

“I don’t remember,” Fenris realised. “I had gone to the great hall for food for Zevran and I as I talked to Anders, but then he realised what Danarius had truly become, and I asked Cullen to take the tray to Zevran -” He broke off and suddenly pushed himself upright. “Cullen, Cullen was supposed to take Zevran his food, make sure he ate - it was Cullen’s fault Zevran almost starved!” His face twisted into a look of rage and he lurched to his feet. “The bastard - first Hal, now Zevran! I’ll kill him!”

“Relax...stop blaming Cullen, bastard templar that he is, he can’t have stayed with Zevran all that time. Sit still and I’ll get food for you.” Cal sighed when his father tried to get up again.

“No, I will have it out with him once and for all!” growled Fenris as he tried to struggle up, his movements unco-ordinated thanks to the large amount of wine he’d put away.

“Lie down Fenris, you couldn’t fight a mouse as drunk as you are now.” Callus pushed him back and sighed. “Lie still while I catch someone to bring you food.”

Fenris fell back onto the bed and groaned. “Cal... Cal, please tell Anders I’m... I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt him... any of you. Will you... will you do that for me?” He stared up at his son, feeling the tell-tale prickle of tears in his eyes once more.

“Of course papa, of course. Now rest a bit while I get someone to bring you something to eat please?” Callus hated seeing Fenris like this but he couldn’t leave him alone as he was.

Fenris nodded dully as he curled up on his side, looking thoroughly miserable and wretched as he closed his eyes against the slow spinning of the room and groaned softly.

The younger elf stuck his head out and caught a passing servant, asking that a bland meal, water and mint tea be brought to him quickly. The man nodded and made his way swiftly in the direction of the kitchens.

As Callus turned back towards his father, he heard a soft, rasping snore, and realised that Fenris had passed out dead drunk.

“Mythal hates him, and me.” Callus said tiredly. He’d make sure the food was left before he continued the search for his sister.

It was perhaps half an hour later that the man finally returned with a tray bearing bread and cheese, a mug of mint tea and a jug of water; the servant set it upon the table before bowing then leaving once more. Fenris was still snoring; nothing Callus could do seemed to bestir the white-haired warrior from his drunken stupor.

“Hopefully he will be hungry enough to eat even if it is not hot tea. What a damned mess.” Cal said before he left his father alone. “Pin...come back, I can’t handle this alone.”

In lieu of anywhere else to go, he headed back up to the rookery; it looked as though he might have to take the red-haired healer up on his offer of assistance after all. He returned to find Hal sitting on the end of the bed, talking quietly to a raven perched on his knee, as Zevran and Anders slept peacefully. Hal glanced up as Callus reached the top of the stairs; the raven took wing, flying to land on the headboard as the young healer rose to his feet and dusted off his robes.

“How are they?” he asked Hal softly.

“Anders fell asleep soon after you left,” replied Hal as he glanced at the two sleeping men. “Zevran fell asleep only a little while ago; I had to do more healing work on his leg. He’d damaged it further when he fell; I had to heal the break in the bone as it hadn’t yet started to knit properly. It means it will heal faster, but the bone will be weaker for a while.” He sighed. “You were gone for over an hour - what happened? Did you find your sister?”

“No, just father having gone to pieces. He’s finally had his own break after all that’s happened. He’s drunk as can be.” Callus jumped when one of the birds came over to him and pecked at him curiously. Hal turned and fixed the raven with a stern eye. 

“Stop that,” he said in a tone of mild reproof. The raven ducked its head and croaked quietly before hopping away from Callus. Hal shook his head at the bird then glanced back at Callus. “That frankly doesn’t surprise me after everything that has happened. Danarius was dead, after all; that he should not merely have found a way to come back, but that he then possessed Fenris’ own husband to do so? I think the only way it could have been worse would have been if it had been your sister or Ellowynne that Danarius possessed.”

“True...as it is, he blames himself for this happening and Pin hiding now.” 

Hal sighed. “Well, perhaps we can find Pin together? I don’t think -” 

He broke off as Anders stirred slightly then turned his head to stare sleepily at them.

“What’s going on? Where’s Pin?” he slurred drowsily.

“She’s in her room, studying Anders, it’s alright.” Callus lied with a glance to the others.

“She’s safe?” Anders stared at Callus. “Oh... thank Andraste. I was having the most worrying dream about her.” He lay back down, his eyes slowly drifting shut again. “He was hunting her... following her. Justice. I _think_ it was Justice....”

Hal turned and stared at Anders, startled.

“I’m sure it was just a bad dream Anders, you should rest more.” Callus said with a glance at Hal.

“Justice was the spirit that once possessed Anders,” Hal murmured very quietly. “It slowly became corrupted by anger into a demon of Vengeance. I’m not sure why he should be dreaming of it now - or why he should dream of it following your sister.”

“Can’t tell if I’m awake or asleep; it all feels like one long bad dream,” mumbled Anders. “Can I wake up soon please? Just... no more darkspawn would be... nice.”

“You’re awake, you’re talking to me aren’t you?” Cal replied.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Anders shrugged without opening his eyes. “I was woken up by a talking dragon earlier.”

Cal did a double take at his words. “I beg your pardon… there are no talking dragons here.”

“Then I must still be dreaming,” Anders replied, with another shrug.

“Not dreaming, but definitely no talking dragons.” Cal repeated with a worried look at Hal.

“Anders, you were in the infirmary in a private room,” said Hal gently. “A dragon couldn’t even fit in there - not even Fenris, even if he _could_ talk in dragon form.”

Anders opened his eyes and sat up slowly as he stared at them both. He frowned, then rubbed his forehead slowly. “Then I must have been hallucinating. Maybe it was the stress. But....” He glanced away, troubled.

“Wait...what? Father can’t turn to a dragon, that’s not remotely possible!” Cal exclaimed. “I’m not willing to believe a lot of things but that goes too far!” 

Hal turned and stared at him, then fingered the long scar that bisected his pale blue eye. “I received this from the axe of a Qunari warrior who saw your father in dragon form and thought Fenris was attacking me.”

“Hal nearly died from that axe blow,” Anders added. “It took everything I had to bring him back and to try and save his eye.”

“No...no, I’m no child that will fall for such a tall tale. Surely you can do that to have me on.” Cal sounded like he was on edge himself.

“Why would I invent such a thing?” asked Hal, nonplussed. “Your father is chosen of Mythal. She granted him the ability to transform into a dragon. It was the only way we were able to defeat the arch-demon that served Corypheus.” He smiled a little wistfully. “It’s a gift I envy. I have only once flown as a dragon, and that was in the Fade. But sometimes Fenris takes me up and for a little while, I can almost pretend I am flying again.” 

Callus rose and started to pace quickly. “Tell me no more, I cannot bear this madness here. He’s an elf, not ordinary but not that extraordinary. Just...I need to not be told anything else strange today. Please?”

Hal opened his mouth to speak but closed it again at a subtle shake of the head from Anders.

“Well, tall tales or no, I am most certainly awake now,” sighed the blond mage as he ran his hands through his hair and sat up straighter. He glanced down at the elf sleeping peacefully beside him, then carefully edged away across the bed until he could get up without disturbing Zevran.

“If you are alright, I will leave you alone and...get back to my room. It’s been a couple of long, strange days.” Cal gave them a long stare as he hoped nothing else was going to happen. 

“Alright,” nodded Anders. “I should find my new rooms at some point - would you send Pin to see me? I just want to check she’s healed up alright from that nasty head wound she received when she tried to protect us from Invictus; head wounds are dangerous things for mages.”

“If she’s not too tired, of course Grand Enchanter. Rest well.” Cal gave a shallow bow and headed off as fast as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another break in posting while cypher is off to another convention. Enjoy a super long chapter while you wait!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little girls find the strangest hiding places, don't they?

“ _Child._ ”

Pin curled up tighter, her face buried in her arms as she lay where she had fallen.

“ _Child. You are unwell._ ” There was a note of concern in the spirit’s voice.

“Go ‘way,” she moaned. “Head hurts.”

“ _Child, you have not eaten in days. You are ill. If you stay here you will die._ ”

“Why should you care?” she mumbled. “Leave me alone. You make my head ring and you glow too bright.”

“ _I... cannot help how I... glow._ ”

“Then just go away,” she groaned as she closed her eyes tight. The spirit’s voice seemed to vibrate through her. She ached all over, her stomach clenching, empty. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since last she’d eaten - when she sat down with Callus for that evening meal. How many days ago had that been? “Dumat, I’ve grown soft,” she muttered to herself. She’d gone longer without food back in Tevinter as a slave, after all.

“ _I cannot call for aid for you, child,_ ” said the spirit sorrowfully. “ _They cannot see me as you do._ ”

“Why would you care?” she repeated. “What does it matter to you whether I live or die?”

The spirit was silent; when she finally lifted her head to look around wearily, she was alone. She let her head drop down again and tried to find refuge in sleep once more.

***

Meneris paced around his rooms, unsure what to do about the problems with his staff. He wanted to comfort Fenris but knew the elf was dangerous even when not on edge, Anders was catatonic and Zevran had pushed himself too far. So his spymaster, First Enchanter, Grand Enchanter and Ambassador were all out of commission. 

“Fuck, Dread Wolf take me,” he muttered angrily as he walked the length of his quarters. 

There came a tentative knock at the door to his quarters; when the Inquisitor wrenched it open with a snarl, Hal recoiled with a look of alarm in his mismatched eyes.

“Yes, Enchanter Hal, how can I help you?” Meneris asked.

Hal swallowed hard, evidently fighting to overcome nerves. “As - as the most senior enchanter c-currently functional, I - I’ve come to give my report, Inquisitor,” he stammered.

“Come in and talk to me; I have a feeling I won’t like it,” Meneris said as he went to his desk and nodded at the empty chair.

Hal followed and dropped into the chair, twisting his fingers together in his lap and looking more like a guilty apprentice than a senior enchanter at that moment, until he closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He let it go and lifted his head, and the look in his odd-coloured eyes as he glanced to Meneris was calmer and more in control.

“Ser, at present Grand Enchanter Anders is no longer in a catatonic state, but he is not yet capable of taking up his duties at this time. He is still very shaken, and in some considerable discomfort physically. First Enchanter Hawke has had himself placed in confinement in his rooms and requested magebane be added to all his food to avoid presenting further risk to his husbands or the Inquisition. Spymaster Zevran’s condition has deteriorated and he has sustained further damage to his leg due to an accidental fall in his room which was not attended to for a full day. It is possible there will be some permanent impairment of his leg as a result; it is too early to tell.” He took another deep breath as the scowl upon Meneris’ face deepened at this unwelcome news.

“What of Ambassador Hawke?” growled Meneris.

“He is... presently indisposed,” replied Hal quietly, somehow managing to retain his composure even in the face of the Inquisitor’s growing ire. “He, too, is also suffering some after-effects of the attack; his daughter Vulpine is still missing. And the - the other Anders... appears to have made some very small progress regarding his - his mental development. We would estimate his mental age now to be perhaps around four or five years of age for a human.”

“We?” echoed Meneris.

“Myself, Parcival, Becky and Warden Commander Nathaniel,” Hal replied.

“Becky? You mean Sister Rebecca?” said Meneris slowly, frowning.

“Sister no longer; she renounced her vows a couple of days ago, ser. She and Parcival have expressed a desire to marry.” Hal dropped his gaze to his hands once more. He had been delighted for the nurse and his healing assistant, but he was well aware that Mother Giselle would be unlikely to agree to let them marry in the Chantry.

The elven leader leaned back and considered all Hal had told him before he got up and poured them both a measure of whiskey. “Here, we both need this after your report.” Meneris held the glass out and tried to seem less threatening.

Hal accepted the glass. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I am sorry to be the bearer of so much ill news. I am... aware that my youth likely tells badly against me and I am not what you would wish for a most senior enchanter at present. Whilst there are other mages in the college older than I, they do not have quite my level of ability, and with the memories I still retain from my time joined with Endrin likely my experience both within and without the Circle exceeds theirs - though if you wish to have one of them assigned instead of myself then of course I will defer to your wishes.” He kept his eyes lowered.

“What is it with people not believing in themselves around here?” Meneris muttered as he considered Hal. “You’re the most qualified and strongest healer we have besides Anders. Stop this, and tell me your thoughts on resolving things.” 

“I - forgive me,” murmured Hal. “I’m not used to being expected to take command like this, except in a healing role. Anders I think will recover in a few days. But if the diplomatic mission to Tevinter is concluded, I think it would be best to recall Arden as soon as possible - and Dorian, if he can be spared. Calpernia can handle diplomatic matters at the Tevinter end. Fenris... I think it best to leave Fenris to his son whilst we concentrate on the hunt for his daughter. She has been missing several days now. And I think perhaps Hawke has taken the only option open to him at present - until we are certain he is no longer possessed, then his taking magebane is by far the safest course for all of us.” 

“It’s alright, it’s not as if I was raised with an expectation to lead the Inquisition. I don’t think leaving Fenris to his son would be wise, he is only sixteen and not old enough to deal with his father going to pieces on him like this with his sister missing. Can you search for her like Anders did?” Meneris asked.

“Not quite as well as Anders, unfortunately; he has the power of his healing spirit to draw on, and I... don’t. But we are fairly certain she must be somewhere in the Undercroft, which will make it a little simpler. I’ll need to go down into the Undercroft myself however.” Hal glanced up. “But once she’s found, I can spend some time with Fenris, my other duties allowing. The sooner Arden and Dorian return, the sooner I can devote myself to helping Fenris.”

“You care for him a great deal, don’t you?” Meneris asked quietly.

Hal nodded. “Yes,” he whispered. His fingers twisted against each other and then with an effort he held them still. “Yes, I - I love him.”

“Then let’s find Vul--, Pin and make sure she’s taken care of so you can see to him. I just want him, all of them to heal from this.” Meneris said.

Hal lifted his head, his mismatched eyes meeting Meneris’ gaze unwaveringly. “As do I,” he said steadily.

“Let’s get a move on then.” Meneris sat his empty glass down and headed for the door. Hal set his barely-touched glass down on the desk and jumped up to follow the Inquisitor, trotting to keep up.

Meneris let Hal catch up as they headed to the Undercroft, ignoring calls for his signature or attention. “See Ambassador Montilyet for that, I’m busy with Enchanter Hal for now,” he called back to the messengers who tried to dog their footsteps through the great hall. He let them into the underground workshop with a wave for Dagna and Harrit.

“Inquisitor!” said Dagna as she bustled over to greet them. “It’s an honour to receive you to my humble workshop - been a while, ser! Was there something I could help you with?”

“We’re looking for Ambassador Hawke’s daughter and think she’s hidden away somewhere in the Undercroft. Have you seen her - young woman, half-elven, red hair and blue eyes.” Meneris gave Dagna a warm smile. 

Dagna pondered. “No, can’t say as I have, ser,” she said slowly. The only person who’s been down here has been that Warden chap - oh, and the Spymaster a few weeks ago. But no girls - red hair or no.” She shrugged. “Sorry!”

Hal had walked a little way into the workshop and was glancing around himself curiously. His eyes fell on an old mirror in the corner; curious, he moved closer and with a start, he realised it was an eluvian.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” said Dagna as she noticed him looking. “No-one seemed to be using it so I brought it here to study it closer, really amazing piece of enchanting that. Oh, don’t bother looking for your reflection - you won’t see one, not in that mirror young ser!” she added as Hal stepped closer and peered at it.

Hal was staring intently at the surface of the mirror. “I am well versed in what one may or may not see in an eluvian, Dagna,” he said quietly. “I have been through several and I can assure you I know far more of their workings and what lies beyond them than you could ever dream.”

Dagna stared at him in surprise, for once stunned into silence. Hal moved closer and lifted a hand to touch the surface of the mirror.

Meneris was surprised as well, he’d been so unsure of himself just a half hour ago. “Do you think...she could have gone through that?” 

“I am certain of it,” said Hal. He glanced back at Meneris, then turned back to the eluvian. A faint smile crossed his face before he suddenly leapt through, leaving the Inquisitor and the dwarf to stare in shock at the empty mirror.

Meneris was frozen in place as he watched the mirror’s surface calm again after Hal’s jump. “What in the hell do I tell the others? I think Dorian needs to come home, now.” 

Dagna seemed to recover from her shock as she hurried over to the mirror. “Oh, no, no no - that won’t do, he can’t just jump in like that - there’s... there’s supposed to be special things you have to do to make them work, a ritual or something - Morrigan was quite firm about it, they won’t work unless you use the right words, you can’t just... jump... through....” Her voice tailed off as she stared at the mirror. “Inquisitor, I think you should come see this,” she said quietly.

Meneris joined her and looked at the mirror, unsure what he was supposed to be seeing. “Fill me in Dagna, this is out of my element even if Hal seems to know them well.” 

“Just... just watch,” she said, her voice hushed. “Just give it a minute... there! There, do you see it?”

Meneris saw nothing at first and was about to say as much, when a ripple suddenly flowed across the surface of the mirror, and for a moment he thought he could see three figures through swirling green mists; one smaller figure carried in the arms of another. It was the third figure that caught his eye however - a tall figure in glowing blue-white armour. It lifted a hand towards the shoulder of the taller of the other two figures, but then the mirror’s surface rippled again before going blank.

“You see? You saw that?” said Dagna.

“Yes, what is it we saw. Was that Hal?” Meneris asked in confusion.

“I don’t - wait, look, look!” she exclaimed excitedly as the mirror rippled again. The three figures were closer to the eluvian now; they could see more clearly that the tall figure was indeed Hal, carrying someone in his arms - someone with red hair that he carried cradled close. The figure in glowing armour had a hand firmly upon the young mage’s shoulder.

“Who is that?” wondered Dagna. “Oh darn it, it’s gone blank again!”

“I think we should move back; if they are that close perhaps Hal will try to come through next.” Meneris backed away from the darkened surface, hand on Dagna’s shoulder as he tried to get her away.

The glass rippled once more, and this time Hal was close enough to the mirror that they could see his pale face and wide, staring eyes clearly. The figure in armour now had hold of him firmly by the upper arm, as though the young mage were its prisoner, and the Inquisitor could not help but notice how much the suit of armour resembled Templar armour. He could also see clearly that it was indeed Pin in Hal’s arms, the young girl pale, eyes closed, as Hal staggered closer to the mirror. 

“ _Meneris!_ ” Hal’s voice sounded as though it were coming from far away. “ _Meneris, help me!_ ”

“Let him go! He’s part of the Inquisition, unhand him templar!” Meneris snarled before he turned to Dagna. “Get me a weapon.”

The surface of the eluvian rippled again, and suddenly Pin came tumbling through the mirror into Meneris’ arms. They had a brief glimpse of Hal’s wide, frightened eyes as he tried to wrench himself free of the figure in armour even as he was spun around to confront his captor.

“ _Wait, no - please -_ ” Hal pleaded.

Abruptly the mirror went dark.

“No… no, the others are going to go ballistic,” Meneris said in dismay as he held Pin in his arms. “Dagna, I’m taking her to the infirmary, send someone to get Fenris there, I don’t care if someone has to drag him by the hair, get going.” He looked down at the girl in his arms and swore at how light she felt, how pale and cold she was. 

“I’m on it, ser!” Dagna nodded before taking off at a run, moving surprisingly fast for someone so short.

**

Fenris groaned as he opened his eyes and felt someone shaking him. “Stop...going to be sick,” he said as he batted at whoever was trying to make him get up.

“Get up, Pin has been found and she’s in a bad way. She needs you father,” Callus said as he stopped shaking the older elf, and flung the drapes open. “Time to get up.”

Fenris blinked as his son’s words registered. “Pin?” His eyes widened, and he threw back the covers as he rolled to his feet, bracing himself with a hand against the wall as his head swam, the ache between his ears suddenly increasing to a violent pounding. For a moment he thought he would throw up, but he managed to fight down the wave of nausea with an effort of will. He staggered over to the small side table where the potions were kept, and managed to fumble out an elfroot potion. He downed it swiftly then held still, eyes closed, whilst he fervently prayed it would not come straight back up again.

“Where was she?” he managed after a moment, when the room seemed to slow its spinning.

“I’m unclear, something was said about the Undercroft and an eluv... ian, I think it’s called? She’s barely awake, but calling for us,” Callus said as he watched his father struggle to get ready.

“An eluvian?” exclaimed Fenris, and swore. “Mythal preserve us - I’d hoped the Inquisitor had destroyed the blasted thing after we returned from the temple! But no, that would be too easy.” He shook his head. “Come on then. Where is she now?”

“The infirmary, she’s barely eaten while she’s been away,” Callus replied as he hastily got out of Fenris’ way before he was knocked back.

“Has anyone sent for Hal?” demanded Fenris as he threw open the door and headed in the direction of the infirmary. “Anders should not be disturbed. Not after... after how I left him.”

Callus didn’t reply, he didn’t know how his father would respond to the news something had kept Hal in wherever the eluvian led to. 

Somehow, Fenris managed to keep himself upright and not throw up whatever remained in his stomach as he ran to the infirmary, Callus upon his heels. “Pin! Where is my daughter?” he shouted as he entered, glaring around wildly until he spotted the Inquisitor and Parcival standing over a bed. “Pin!”

“Stop yelling, she’s in need of rest,” Meneris said but relented at the glare Fenris leveled at him before he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Pin? We’re here, me and Cal...talk to me if you can,” Fenris said as he took her cool, pale hand. 

She opened her eyes slowly. “F-father?” she managed weakly.

“Pin...baby girl?” Fenris said as he reached out to brush the hair out of her eyes. “What happened, where did you go?”

“I fell through the mirror,” she murmured. “He was chasing me, and I stumbled, and then I couldn’t get out again.”

“Who was chasing you?” Fenris asked as he rubbed her hand between his. 

“The demon,” she said drowsily. “He said he was a spirit but I knew... knew he had to be a demon. But then Hal came and saved me.”

“Hal? I don't understand. Where is Hal, do you know?” Fenris asked before he glanced at the others. “Where is he? You all have a look about you but no one is talking.” 

“I don’t understand... he was right behind me,” she said, frowning slightly. “He picked me up and carried me, and I heard him calling to someone, and then I was falling and the Inquisitor caught me.” She glanced up at Meneris. “Who caught the healer? He was right behind me... wasn’t he?”

Fenris looked to Meneris for answers, his gaze hardening the longer the other elf kept quiet.

Finally Meneris shook his head no, and looked away. “Something that...looked like a templar had hold of him, it wouldn’t leave him alone.” 

“A demon you mean? Where is he?” Callus asked from where he’d sat with his sister.

Pin nodded. “It was the demon - he said he was a spirit, but I know it was a demon! It wanted me to take it to Anders, but I wouldn’t. I refused.” She glanced at Meneris, and then her eyes widened. “It was _you_ he was calling to, wasn’t it? He begged you to help us!”

The Inquisitor stepped back at her words. “Yes...but I wasn’t sure how to open the mirror from this side. It went dark before he got back here. I’m sorry Pin, Fenris.” 

“You...left him behind?” Fenris asked far too calmly.

Pin was struggling to sit up. “No, you - you let the demon have him!” she cried. “How could you?” She glared at Meneris, and then her eyes flicked to something behind the elf and widened. “No. Oh no,” she whispered.

“What is it Pin?” Callus asked in alarm.

Fenris had risen and advanced on Meneris, his claws forming with each step. “You left Hal behind?”

Pin stared at Hal where he stood a little behind Meneris. His eyes were fixed upon Fenris; as the taller elf advanced, Hal ran forward _through_ the Inquisitor’s form and lifted his hands pleading with Fenris to stop. As Pin glanced around, the others were staring at Fenris and Meneris. “You... you, none of you can see him? You can’t see this?” she realised. She stared at Hal. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” She reached a hand towards him as tears filled her eyes.

“What are you talking about Pin?” Fenris snarled as he passed through Hal and lunged at Meneris. Pin screamed as she saw Hal stagger, his eyes widening as Fenris moved swiftly through his incorporeal form before the red-haired ghost dropped to his knees with a scream only Pin could hear.

“Fenris! Stop this, I didn’t leave him on purpose, and hurting me in front of your children won’t help anything.”

“Oh, but it will Inquisitor; oh, it will help me quite a bit,” Fenris snapped before he realized Pin was yelling about what she saw. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hurting him, you’re hurting Hal!” she cried as she threw herself from the bed. They watched in astonishment as she reached out a trembling hand to something only she could see. 

“I don’t understand, what do you mean hurting Hal, he’s not here Pin,” Fenris replied with a glare for Meneris before he turned and tried to figure out what she was screaming about.

“I think...maybe he didn’t quite get out of wherever they were?” Meneris said as he backed away from the angry elf.

Pin seemed to be touching something. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed quietly, but it didn’t seem she was saying it to either her father or the Inquisitor. She stared into Hal’s pain-filled eyes as he tried to smile and murmured that it wasn’t her fault. Unseen by any there save Pin alone, he lifted a hand to brush a strand of her hair back behind her delicate upswept ear.

Parcival muttered an oath as he could have sworn he saw locks of Pin’s hair stir, though there was no breeze in the room. “Something touched her,” the mage breathed. “Her hair - did you see?”

“I did… Pin, who touched you just now?” Fenris asked.

“Did that demon come with you? Or.... is it Enchanter Hal?” Callus added.

“It’s Hal,” she said quietly, trying to smile reassuringly at Hal through her tears as she trailed her fingers down his cheek. “I’m sorry... I’ll find a way to bring you back, I promise,” she told him softly. “It’s all my fault.”

“How is you can see and touch him, but we can’t? Is he...is he a spirit now?” Meneris asked before Fenris turned on him with a low growl. 

“If he died there, you won’t make it much further Inquisitor,” he said.

“No, not a spirit,” she disagreed, shaking her head. “He’s just... trapped there. Like I was. But if we don’t get him out then he _will_ die. He’ll starve.” She glanced up at Fenris and Meneris. “Father... we have to help him.”

“Do you know how Pin?” Fenris asked.

“Maybe I can be of use? Assuming this damn thing still works.” Meneris held up his marked hand and concentrated on the power that used to flow easily at a thought.

Pin’s eyes widened as the mark abruptly lit up in a blaze of brilliant acid-green light; for a moment, the room around her seemed faint, her father and the others ghost-like as she turned and stared at Hal and felt his skin warm beneath her fingertips, even though she felt the cool stones of the infirmary floor beneath her. 

“ _Pin?_ ” said Hal softly.

“I can see both worlds,” she said quietly. “He holds the Fade in his hand.”

“Can you pull him through, or do I need to use my markings and grab him?” Fenris asked

She reached for Hal, and then gasped as her fingers passed through his shoulder as though she were now the one who were a ghost. “I can touch him but I can’t bring him through,” she said, frustrated. “I can only touch him because the Inquisitor’s mark brings the Fade closer - I can only see into it, I can’t step there or bring him here. I can’t tear the Veil.”

“ _You tried,_ ” Hal said softly. He curled an arm around himself as he hunched over.

“I can step into the Fade; move, Pin, I don’t want you to get tugged back there.” Fenris let his brands light and came over to her. “Put his hand in mine and get back.”

She smiled reassuringly at Hal and guided the young man’s hand until his fingers brushed those of Fenris; the tall elf’s eyes widened in shock as he felt slender fingers grasp his hand yet saw nothing there, even as Pin moved back out of the way so that Fenris could step fully into the Fade. As the room vanished to be replaced by the green twilight of the other realm, he glanced down and found Hal kneeling at his feet, one hand clutching his midriff as the other clutched at Fenris’ hand. 

“Fenris. Take me home,” Hal gasped, his voice rough with pain. “Please.”

The warrior pulled Hal to him and stepped back through the rift Meneris had opened. “Close it, now,” Fenris gasped.

Pin scrambled to her feet as her father stepped back through the tear in the Fade, Hal clutching at him desperately; as Meneris snapped the rift closed, Hal’s eyes closed and he began to fall to his knees with a low, pained groan.

“Hal!” exclaimed Parcival as he came forward to help Fenris catch the red-haired healer before he could hit the floor.

“I’m alright... just give me a moment,” murmured Hal weakly.

“You were trapped ..wherever you were at,” Fenris said as he held Hal and started to check him over. “You gave us a fright, amatus.”

“Had quite the fright myself,” confessed Hal. “I... I think perhaps I need to lie down....” He winced as he hunched over slightly.

“Amatus, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” exclaimed Fenris.

“When you walked through me... something about your brands... it felt like burning as you passed through me,” Hal gasped. “It... it will pass, I just... just need to catch my breath and lie down for a little while.”

Callus’ eyes widened at what Fenris had called Hal. “Am...amatus? Isn’t he your adopted son?”

Fenris grinned at Hal, then his son with a smirk. “Whatever gave you that idea?” 

Pin was staring at them both in disbelief. “But... but Hal is... he’s young, he’s....”

“I’m not _that_ young,” muttered Hal as he blushed and glanced away.

“And I’m not _that_ old, not enough to take him ...never mind that. I’m just glad you’re both alright,” Fenris said as he helped Hal lie back on a cot. He grimaced as he felt his own headache returning thanks to his Fade walking. “Maybe I’ll lie down as well.”

Hal reached out a hand to curl it loosely around Fenris’ wrist, then sent a surge of healing energy through Fenris’ body, driving away the headache and leaving the elf feeling awake, energised and revitalised. Something about Hal’s healing magic felt ever so slightly different in a way he couldn’t quite place.

“Thanks… but you should save your energy to rest up,” Fenris said as he squeezed the other man’s fingers in his briefly. 

“That mirror should be destroyed,” Callus said as he helped Pin back to bed. 

“I’d be ready to agree normally but I want Dagna to study it some more. You all rest, I’m going to check on Nathaniel and his guest before I ask Dorian to return. Thank you Fenris for helping,” Meneris said softly before he left.

Hal let his hand drop and smiled tiredly. “Time moves differently in the Fade,” he said quietly, his words slurring a little. “How long was I gone?”

“Only a couple of hours, I think.” Fenris said before he kissed Hal on the forehead and returned to Pin’s side. “Glad to have you back, so glad.”

“Glad you so--” Callus fell silent at the harsh look Fenris threw him.

Pin was regarding Hal with an odd look - one that Fenris might almost have thought wistful, if it were not so confused. “How... how long was _I_ gone?” she asked. Fenris had the distinct impression she had been about to ask something else for a moment.

Hal frowned slightly. “Three... four days?” he guessed, before glancing to Fenris for confirmation.

“I think so, I kind of lost time for a while,” Fenris replied quietly. “It seemed like everything happened with no room to breathe since ...the attack.” 

“Pin was brought here nearly an hour ago,” said Parcival.

Hal blinked. “Only an hour? For you, perhaps. For me, it was five days.”

“Five days?” exclaimed Pin. “But... it only felt like I was gone maybe a week? I’ve starved for longer than that before now. You were only in there for an hour, how could it be five days?”

“Time passes differently in the Fade,” Hal shrugged. “I think that’s how Dorian was able to use it to pass through time.” He smiled weakly. “Endrin certainly did.” He closed his eyes. “No wonder I feel so strange and weak now. Mortals aren’t meant to walk the Fade for so long.”

“Parcival, can you have food brought for them? I’d like to spend time with Pin, Callus and Hal for a bit,” Fenris asked.

“Of course,” nodded the other healer. “There’s broth in the infirmary kitchen, and I think some of the meat left from last night’s roast. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Once Parcival had gone, Fenris slumped forward and took one of Pin’s hands. “I’m sorry, I failed to take care of you, both of you.”

“Don’t start that again, seeing you drunk and crying once was enough for me today,” Callus said gently as he could.

“Father, please - I couldn’t save him by myself,” protested Pin. “You got him out before he could die there!”

“Least I could do. Do you mind if I rest next to you Pin? I was...sleeping when Cal came for me,” Fenris hedged.

Hal had rolled onto his back and was absently rubbing his chest with a faint wince, his eyes half-closed. “Not sure I can stay awake long enough for food,” he admitted quietly. He closed his eyes, then opened them again as he became aware of eyes staring at him; he glanced up to find Callus staring at him.

“Cal, what are you doing?” Fenris asked as he sat with Pin.

Callus stared at Hal; he couldn’t explain how having thought of Hal as being more or less an older adoptive brother only to find the young mage was someone his father actually slept with had triggered off unpleasant associations in his mind. Now as he stared at Hal, he couldn’t help but compare him to the succession of bodyslaves he’d seen sent into Xerxeus’ bedchambers - the ones that invariably were later carried out broken, bloodless, lifeless. He couldn’t help but think that even with the scar and the mismatched eyes - one golden, one ice-blue - that their former master would have enjoyed Hal and broken him all too swiftly. He didn’t like the way it made him feel - either towards his father, or towards the young mage.

“Callus, what is wrong with you?” Fenris called him again and was surprised when the younger elf turned to him with a sneer on his face. “What’s wrong, what did I do now?”

Hal glanced to Fenris. “I... don’t know,” he said, bewildered.

Pin stared at her brother. “Like Callisthenes,” she said softly. “The same hair - you remember?” She shuddered. Unlike her brother, she had seen how many of those young men had died. It wasn’t hard for her to see how Callus had looked at Hal and known what he was remembering.

“I need to go, glad you’re safe Pin. I’ll be back later...much later,” Callus said before he bolted out of the room.

Fenris glanced at his daughter, and then to Hal as he understood what she’d meant. “He was reminded of someone he cared about?”

“Our... master... he had certain tastes,” she said quietly. “I was the only female slave apart from the ones in the kitchen. Xerxeus liked young men. When he tired of them, he used them as blood sacrifices. Cal... he was... friends with some of them, before... before he realised none of them ever lived more than maybe four or five months.” She glanced away. “Callisthenes... he had long dark red hair. He was... kind to Callus. Callus was given the duty of... of removing him after Xerxeus was finished.”

Hal stared at her, feeling a cold chill run down his spine.

“ _Venhedis_...no wonder he acted that way after hearing me call you amatus,” Fenris whispered. “I’ll speak to him later.”

“What... what happened to Callis-Callisthenes?” asked Hal, his voice dropping. He knew he didn’t really want to know, and yet there was a kind of horrified fascination to the whole subject; he found himself almost needing to know how this unknown young man who somehow resembled him had met his end.

“Xerxeus grew tired of him. He was too gentle; wouldn’t fight back. And he felt Cal was growing too fond of him,” Pin said softly. “So he had his new favourite break Callisthenes.”

“Break...?” echoed Hal.

“Xerxeus had him tortured then flayed alive, all except his face - and used his blood to summon a demon with,” Pin said bleakly. “He... didn’t live much past the ritual itself, mercifully. Callus had to clean up afterwards and remove his remains.”

Hal stared at Pin. He’d known that atrocities happened in Tevinter; Fenris had hinted at some of his own experiences. But this....

“Hal?” said Pin, as the young mage went white. “Father!”

Fenris jumped up and caught Hal before he could fall over. “Come on, you were doing alright before this.” 

Hal’s eyes had rolled back as he slumped; he lay limp in Fenris’ embrace for several minutes before he began to stir slightly. Parcival came in with a tray of food as Hal’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his face still white.

“Is everything alright?” asked the healer with a frown of concern.

“Not really, can you cast Rejuvenate on him please?” Fenris asked as he tried to get Hal settled.

“Of course,” Parcival nodded as he set the tray aside then moved to stand beside Fenris as he laid his fingers upon Hal’s brow and swiftly cast the spell. Hal jerked in Fenris’ arms then tried to pull away.

“Come on, wake up Hal,” Fenris coaxed.

Hal opened his eyes and stared up at Fenris, a bewildered and distressed look in his eyes. “Get - get me out of here,” he begged. “I need - I need fresh air!”

“Parcival, help him over to a window would you? I don’t want to leave Pin yet,” Fenris asked as he tried to keep the young man from hurting himself.

Parcival helped Hal to his feet and steadied him as they made their way over to the window. He leaned over the windowsill, gasping in big gulps of air as he tried not to throw up at the mental images Pin’s words had called up, and suddenly the way Callus had been staring at him made more sense. “I think... I want to go to my room,” Hal murmured.

“Enchanter Hal?” said Parcival gently. “You should eat -”

“Maker, no,” groaned Hal.

“Take him back to his rooms please and...if Grand Enchanter Anders is awake, please send a message that I’ll be there to see him to his rooms by dinner. I’d appreciate it,” Fenris said as he watched Hal with worry.

“I’m sorry,” Hal managed breathlessly, “So much... so tired, it’s just - Justice, the Fade, now this....”

“I’ve got you,” murmured Parcival. “Let’s get you upstairs.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Becky?” he called.

“Yes, Parcival, my love?” said Rebecca as she stepped out of the dispensary, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Enchanter Hal needs a hand up to his rooms. Sit with Ambassador Hawke and his daughter would you dear?” asked Parcival.

“Of course,” she smiled as she made her way down towards them with a reassuring smile as Parcival began to help Hal from the infirmary.

“I’m sorry, Father, I had no idea it would have that effect on him,” said Pin sadly.

“Nor did I Pin. I’m ...tired in so many ways. I’m going to stretch out next to you for a bit. I’m not tired, but I am worn thin,” Fenris said as he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling.

“You should eat something, young lady,” said Rebecca as she brought over a bowl of broth.

“Yes, Sister Rebecca,” said Pin as she sat up.

“Not any longer - just Becky will do,” replied the former Chantry Sister. Pin glanced up, surprised, then smiled slightly. “Yes, Healer Becky,” she answered before she began to eat her stew.

Fenris let his eyes closed, satisfied Pin and Hal were back where they belonged. He wasn’t feeling himself, but at least he knew his children were safe. 

Pin emptied her bowl and then, at Becky’s insistence, lay down again even as she protested that she wasn’t tired. Despite her protestations, she was asleep a short time after.

Fenris wrapped an arm around Pin as she slept and thanked Mythal for her return. He was soon asleep, grateful for the chance to have his daughter with him.

***

“Well, I think that went well, don’t you?” remarked Dorian as Arden pulled off his ornate outer robe and threw it across the back of the couch then dropped down into the seat with a tired sigh, raking his hands slowly through his long blond hair. The dye had been slowly washing out of his hair and strands of white peeked out through the dark gold as he ran his fingers through it.

“Pretty good, all things considering,” nodded Arden as Dorian made his way to the sideboard to pour them all a glass of wine each. Arden took his glass with a nod of thanks. “I believe congratulations are in order? You’re formally and legally a magister now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, for my sins,” sighed Dorian. “Still, it does mean I’m in a position to promote the Lucerni and recruit further support.”

“Your recognition by the Magisterium was never in doubt, darling,” said Maevaris as she accepted her own glass. “Unlike mine, yours was a mere formality really.”

“Oh?” asked Arden, curious. She gave him a small, mirthless grin.

“Assassination is an old, well-respected way to die in the Imperium, Grand Enchanter - it’s practically traditional. Execution by Templars, on the other hand... well, it was still assassination, in its own way, but public perception is so damning.” She shrugged, then draped herself over the couch next to him. “You know, it’s rather uncanny how much you resemble dear Anders. Up close I can see you’re not really him, but anyone who hadn’t spent long in his company likely couldn’t tell the difference.” She trailed the toe of her ornate slipper slowly up his calf with a coy smile.

“It’s _dear_ Anders again is it?” remarked Dorian. “Finally gotten out of your bad books has he?”

“I’ve forgiven him; the poor man wasn’t himself, after all, and after what you’ve told me of all that’s happened since I departed back for Qarinus I feel rather sorry for him. He should have come to Tevinter instead of Arden; it sounds like he would have been safer here, even with the assassination attempts.” She smiled at Arden. “Which you survived with aplomb, my dear; you shouldn’t take them too much to heart - it’s just the Magisterium’s way of saying ‘welcome to Tevinter’.”

“What, they couldn’t send me a potted plant like anyone else?” joked Arden.

“So, is this appointment permanent for you, or were you merely filling in whilst Anders was indisposed?” she asked before taking a sip of her wine.

“Pretty much permanent, I believe, though really that’s down to the Inquisitor and Anders,” shrugged Arden. “Technically I’m the Grand Enchanter in public whilst he is the real Grand Enchanter in private. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, I _am_ Anders.”

“And what of his Calling? What will you do then? Will you take on his identity fully?” she asked.

“As to that, I’m working on a cure,” replied Dorian. “Zevran came to me before Meneris and I set off on our honeymoon, but I had already begin my research. You could say it’s a matter of enlightened self-interest, after all.”

“Well, you _did_ help keep poor dear Felix alive far longer than anyone thought possible,” shrugged Maevaris. “I doubt Gereon would have had half the success he did in searching for a cure if you hadn’t assisted him for two years.”

“Be that as it may, I wish I could have done more,” sighed Dorian. 

“His death was not in vain, darling,” she said sympathetically. “He did much to sway support away from the Venatori and towards us before he died.”

“Oh, I know,” nodded Dorian as he took a seat, his gaze distant. He took a slow sip of his wine. “I still miss him terribly, you know,” he said quietly after a moment.

“I know, darling,” said Maevaris gently. “You and he were very close. He was your _amicus_.”

“Forgive me; I’m tired and growing maudlin,” said Dorian with a sad smile. “It’s been a long day, and I look forward to finally returning to Skyhold and sleeping in my own bed with Meneris.”

“And you, Grand Enchanter? Is there someone special waiting to warm _your_ sheets for you back at Skyhold?” Maevaris smiled slyly.

Arden chuckled quietly. “Me? No,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Oh?” She inched closer and rested a hand on his knee. “No-one at all? Hmm. That seems... a pity.”

“Mae, please don’t molest the Grand Enchanter,” Dorian teased with a small smirk. 

“Are you sure I couldn’t persuade you to perhaps extend your visit to a little trip to Qarinus?” she murmured, not taking her eyes off Arden.

“I, ah... Qarinus?” said Arden, blinking. 

“Mae, this isn’t Anders. And even if he were, I should have to remind you that Anders is a married man,” said Dorian quietly.

“But he _isn’t_ Anders,” replied Maevaris, her hand sweeping up a little from Arden’s knee to his thigh.

“No, he’s just Anders to all intents and purposes - and if the _very married_ Grand Enchanter is seen to have anything less that a strictly professional relationship with the very _widowed_ Magister Tilani, then it will have repercussions far outside Tevinter or Skyhold,” Dorian pointed out sternly.

She sat back with a low chuckle. “Relax, Dorian; I’m only teasing,” she replied.

“Be that as it may, Arden and I will be returning to Skyhold this evening,” replied Dorian before taking a slow sip of his wine.

“Perhaps I shall have to come visit Skyhold in person,” shrugged Maevaris. “Particularly now you’ve taught me that incredibly useful teleportation spell.”

“I’m not sure the Inquisitor will take kindly to magisters just casually popping in to Skyhold unannounced,” frowned Arden. “There could be some rather worrying security implications to this magic.”

“Point,” conceded Dorian with an answering frown. “Not one I had considered before; after all, one needs to have a point of reference to teleport to. But it’s possible that someone might make use of some form of scrying device to spy out the location before hand, though such artifacts are incredibly rare. But there are references to such artifacts in some of the older literature.”

“Then I shall be certain to send word on ahead before dropping in,” said Maevaris. “I shouldn’t like to cause undue worry and concern for the Inquisition, after all.” She shrugged. “But I should like a chance to apologise to Anders for the way I treated him when last we met. I perhaps blamed him rather unfairly for his... precipitous departure from Tevinter.”

“And I then forgiven for my hand in that?” asked Dorian.

“Darling, as if you need ask,” she smiled at him fondly. “I could never stay angry at you for long.”

Dorian smiled and was about to reply when he felt the ring upon his finger vibrate. He blinked, then swiped his thumb across it briefly as a smile lit up his face. “Amatus, what a pleasant surprise!”

“ _Dorian. You need to come back home immediately. Arden as well._ ”

Arden straightened in his seat as Dorian set his glass aside and stared at the ring. 

“Meneris, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” he asked as Arden got to his feet with a glance to Maevaris before he left the room in search of Calpernia.

“ _Are you alone? Or if you can come quickly, we...I need you amatus,_ ” Meneris said hastily.

Dorian’s eyes flicked to Maevaris; she rose to her feet and inclined her head before following Arden from the room. “I am now, _amatus_. What’s happened?” he repeated as he rose to his feet.

“ _Everything is going to pieces, Fenris, Anders, there’s a damned working Eluvian that his daughter fell into and Hal nearly got kept there by a...demon, or spirit. I need you home Dorian, please._ ” Meneris knew he sounded like he was begging but he didn’t care.

“The eluvian?” echoed Dorian, surprised. “I thought that had been locked away or destroyed? _Venhedis_. Has madness broken out in Skyhold in my absence?”

“ _Yes, and I need you home amatus, please._ ” Meneris said as he tried to keep his composure. “ _I beg of you come home as soon as you can._ ” 

Dorian glanced up as Arden reappeared, Calpernia in tow. Arden had his and Dorian’s staves in his hand; he nodded to the Tevinter mage as Calpernia folded her arms and glanced between the two men. Dorian took his staff and slung it on his back. “Where are you, _amatus_? I’ll open a portal on the balcony again if it’s clear.” Calpernia was handing letters and documents to Arden as they spoke hurriedly in low voices.

“ _I’m in our rooms, I look forward to having you home,_ ” Meneris replied.

Dorian nodded, though he knew Meneris couldn’t see it. “I shall be there very shortly, _amatus_ ,” he said quietly. “We both will.” He swiped his thumb across the ring and it went cold.

“Safe journey, both of you,” said Calpernia. “Arden has all the documents. Good working with you, Pavus; it’s not been what I’d expected when we set out, but I think we’ve made a good start here.”

Dorian nodded. “I’m not sure any of us knew what to expect, but I think Inquisition has made an impression. As has the new Grand Enchanter.”

Maevaris returned and crossed the room to embrace Dorian. “Do be safe, darling,” she murmured. She pressed a small box into the magister’s hand. “Give this to Anders would you? He left it behind.”

“Of course,” Dorian nodded. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure; it’s something Varric gave him,” she shrugged. “He said something about insurance. Anyway, I kept it with me and I never got around to giving it back. He should have it.”

Dorian nodded, then turned to Arden. “Shall we?”

Arden nodded, and a moment later they were walking through the balcony doors, in Skyhold once more.

“So,” said Dorian with a smile. “What’s been happening since I was -”

He got no further as he was engulfed in a hug.

“I’ll, ah, leave you two to it,” smiled Arden as he retreated towards the doors, leaving the Inquisitor to welcome his husband back home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, really cypher is leaving for a convention again. So enjoy!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden gets a shock, Fenris can't keep his word and the game's afoot

Arden strode down the hall towards the rotunda. He was heartily looking forward to getting out of his ceremonial robes, washing the dust of Tevinter out of his hair and enjoying simply being Arden Hawke instead of the Grand Enchanter for once. There would be time enough to catch up on all that had happened since he’d stepped through the portal into the Minrathous embassy several weeks ago later on; for now he simply wanted to relax with a few hours ahead of him in which he didn’t have a pile of paperwork and several magister delegations to meet with and instead he could do pretty much as he wished. A nice long bath was head of that list.

He was a few feet away from the door of his room when he heard a voice exclaiming loudly for someone to get down, and he frowned, wondering what on earth all the fuss was about. He reached for the door of his room and blinked as it swung open at his touch.

“Anders, get down off that bookshelf right now!” Nathaniel swore roundly as he tried to grab the white-haired man’s ankle. 

Arden blinked. _Did he just say **Anders**???_ The man atop the bookcase had long, wild white hair - but the crisscrossing scars all down his back were so familiar, and as the man turned to glance in his direction - _those eyes_....

“No! Not going!” insisted the white-haired man as he pulled his foot up out of reach. His perch on top of the bookcase was precarious but he clung on tightly as he stared down at the exasperated Warden.

“What in the name of Andraste’s flaming arse is going on?” exclaimed Arden as he stopped still in the doorway.

The white-haired man’s head jerked up. “Hawke!” he breathed, and then a look of joy crossed his face. “ _Hawke!!_ ” He carelessly flung himself down from the top of the bookcase as Nathaniel swore and tried to catch him, both men going sprawling upon the floor.

Arden stared at him; it was Anders. There was no doubt about that. The dark amber-brown eyes, the aquiline nose, the scars across his body - it was Anders. What on earth had happened to the Grand Enchanter whilst he was away? His eyes widened. “Anders? What - what’s happened to your hair?” he said, bewildered. “What -” 

He got no further as Anders flung himself into his arms, hugging him tightly as he pressed his face against Arden’s tunic and burst into happy tears.

“Anders - Maker, what’s wrong with you?” said Arden, bewildered. “Where are Fenris and Invictus?”

“Fenris is dead,” sobbed Anders as Arden gently hugged him, confused. Arden stilled, his eyes widening.

“Maker, no! How? Oh sweet Andraste, the Inquisitor never breathed a word - Zevran, Hal, Invictus - they must be devastated!” he exclaimed.

“Wrong Fenris,” sighed Nathaniel. “And... ah... wrong Anders.”

Arden froze. “.... what?” He could feel the colour draining from his face.

“This... is, um... _your_ Anders,” said Nathaniel slowly.

“No. That’s not possible. He died - everyone told me, he... he died in Kirkwall, I - Hal told me I told them all myself...” breathed Arden.

“I got better,” murmured Anders, hiccupping slightly as he lifted teary eyes to Arden and gave him a watery smile.

Arden reeled, only held up by Anders’ grip as it tightened about him. “No... no, that’s not possible,” he repeated in a whisper. He felt dizzy. He stared at Anders, and felt memories come flooding back. Everything. Those last few memories at last falling into place; standing on the docks at Kirkwall; watching Anders turn, hands catching at the blond apostate, dragging him down as voices bayed for his blood, Isabela’s ship carrying him further and further away from the man he loved.... That last memory he’d not been able to face.

He was aware of Anders exclaiming in alarm as his knees gave way, and then everything went dark.

***

Callus had returned to the infirmary a couple of hours later to check on his family and perhaps to rethink how he’d reacted to Hal. He found Fenris and Pin curled up together, sound asleep and Hal nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, hello, young Callus; can I help you?” asked Becky as she emerged from the infirmary kitchen, wiping flour off her hands with a cloth. She was no longer wearing her Chantry robes; instead she wore a plain grey gown with a white pinafore apron over the top. “Your sister and father are sleeping. Pin should be fine to go back to her own room tomorrow I think; Parcival would like to keep her here overnight just to be on the safe side.”

“I just wanted to check on them since I was passing by, Healer. When they wake up, please let me know?” Callus gave his sibling and father a sad look.

“Certainly; where should I send the messenger to? You’ve just missed Parcival; he came back a little while ago from checking on Master Hal, but he was called to an emergency a little while ago.”

“My room please, thank you Healer.” Callus left and headed to his rooms; he had some thinking to do.

It was drawing towards early evening when finally a message came that both Pin and Fenris were awake; the messenger didn’t wait for a response but turned away in a hurry, already leafing through the messages in his bundle, head down as he strode away back up the corridor as he muttered to himself something about “bleeding mess, everyone wantin’ their messages sent _now_ and the bloody Inquisitor not answering a single bloody one of ‘em”.

“Thank you serah,” Callus called as the man retreated towards his next mission. He decided to check on his father and sister before getting a long overdue meal for himself. He entered to find the infirmary even more chaotic than usual; several healers were crowding around a bed where someone was being rather loud and noisy. As Callus’ footsteps slowed, he heard what sounded like Grand Enchanter Anders loudly insisting he be left alone and telling everyone to go away.

He approached and frowned at what was going on, and when he finally saw ‘Anders’, it was the same white haired man he’d seen earlier. “Anders?” 

Anders turned and stared at him, his brown eyes widening. “Help me?” he asked, lifting a hand towards Callus hopefully.

Callus approached quickly, unsure what could have happened since he’d seen the other man. “Help you? What’s happened?”

“Hawke - they don’t want me to see him!” said Anders, his eyes widening in distress. “Please, make them go away!”

“Which Hawke? Arden, my father, other Anders? Who are you talking about?” Callus asked, perplexed at how this other Anders was acting.

Anders blinked at him with an air of bewilderment. “A-Arden,” he said in a small voice. “ _My_ Hawke.”

“Take me, I’ll get you to him,” Callus said, still a bit confused but unwilling to leave him alone.

Anders’ eyes lit up and he grabbed Callus’ hand as he gave him a delighted smile, then turned and tugged the youth towards the bed all the healing staff were clustered around. Callus spotted his father sitting up and staring at him with a quizzical look but didn’t have time to do more than shrug at him and gesture at the white-haired Anders before the man was staring back at him hopefully as one of the healers turned and muttered to Anders to step back out of the way.

“Excuse me Healer but he wants to be with the man you’re treating. It’s distressing him to be kept away. Surely he can sit nearby while you work?” Callus said as he got closer, Anders’ hand in his as he tried to tug the other man with him.

He was close enough now that he could see the man on the bed was Arden, the man who had gone to Tevinter in place of the true Grand Enchanter. Callus had only really seen the man properly once, though he’d been struck at the time by the resemblance between him and Anders himself; closer to, the differences in their appearance were more noticeable, but still the man could have been the brother of the man whose hand he held. 

Arden Hawke was half-conscious, his eyes unfocused as he tried clumsily to brush away the damp cloth a nurse was trying to place upon his forehead; his movements were hampered by the two other healers who were trying to check his pulse and apply healing.

“No... leave me be....” Arden slurred weakly.

“Ser, I’ll have to ask you to move away,” insisted the healer who turned and frowned at Callus before glancing at Anders and then jerking back in surprise.

“Arden,” said Anders unhappily.

“Let him sit with ...Arden I think his name is. You didn’t see how upset he was to be kept apart.” Callus arched an eyebrow at the healer before he stepped around and let Anders to his Hawke. “Go on, sit with him.”

Anders flung himself forward to grasp Arden’s hands, and the blond mage turned his head, bewildered, to stare at him before he gently smiled. “I thought I was dreaming,” he murmured. He drew Anders closer, and then he was hugging the white-haired mage and both men were weeping as the healers glanced at each other and then the two men in utter confusion.

“Father... that’s the white-haired man! Ellowynne’s ghost she told you about!” exclaimed Pin from across the room.

“I’m sorry?” Fenris said as he rose to see what all the commotion was about. As the healers backed away from the bed, he could see Arden slowly sitting up, his arms wrapped around a man with long white hair that tumbled down a back adorned with familiar scars.

“I met him once, and he was ...sad at seeing me since their Fenris died. At least that’s what he says when they mention him. I think we should leave them be, Arden has to be in shock considering that he assumed his Anders was dead too,” Fenris said slowly as he let a hand rest on Pin’s shoulder.

“I think it will be upsetting for all of them, he was crying about being taken back to the Wardens when I saw him last,” Callus added.

“No-one is taking Anders back to the Wardens,” Arden declared as he turned and stared at Callus, his hands tightening about the white-haired man’s shoulders as the strange Anders whimpered. Arden held Callus’ gaze for a moment before glancing around at the healers. “Go. Leave us.” 

One of the healers opened his mouth to argue and Arden’s eyes suddenly snapped with angry fire. “ _Go!_ ” he roared, and the healers fled.

“Would you like us to leave as well?” Callus asked as he backed away from the mage.

Arden glanced at him, disoriented and uncertain. “What? ... oh. No. No, just... just them,” he said, quieter, his anger gone as swiftly as it had flared.

“I will understand if you wish to be alone with him, I have catching up to do with Father and Pin,” Callus replied.

Fenris glanced to the white haired Anders, his gaze a bit sad but also worried. “I should probably leave anyway, it will upset him to see me I think.”

Anders had climbed up onto the bed and was now curled around Arden, his head resting on the blond mage’s shoulder. As Fenris spoke, Anders glanced over at him and a sad look crossed his face. “Not our Fenris,” he said sadly.

“No, love,” answered Arden bleakly. “Not our Fenris. It’s just you, me and Hal.”

Anders turned his head slightly and nuzzled his face into Arden’s shirt. Arden lifted his hand and gently stroked a hand through Anders’ bone-white hair, his eyes filled with sadness.

“When... how... where did Anders come from?” he asked quietly. “How long has he been here?”

“A little while ago, and he’s been adjusting slowly,” Fenris replied as he gazed at them. “Not your Fenris, I’m sorry. I’ll send Hal to you and maybe you can catch up?” 

Arden stared down at Anders; gently, he placed a finger beneath Anders’ chin then lifted his hand until Anders glanced up at him, blinking in confusion. “What’s wrong with him?” said Arden quietly. “He’s... childlike.” 

“Losing his spirit seems to have taken his mind when it was forced out. He’s doing much better than before but he’s maybe five, six at the most in terms of mental ability,” Fenris said.

Arden looked stricken. “Oh Maker,” he murmured, and then he wrapped both arms around Anders and buried his face in the soft white hair. “You’re safe,” he said softly. “No-one’s going to take you away from me, Anders. No-one’s going to take you to the Wardens. I’ve got you.”

“I love you, Hawke,” said Anders trustingly.

“I love you too, Anders,” mumbled Arden, fighting back tears.

Pin was watching the two men, and she turned to Fenris. “Father, can’t you do something? Insist that this Anders isn’t taken away or something? You’re the ambassador; surely that must give you some powers?”

Fenris blinked. “I had not considered that,” he admitted.

“What about you, Pin - you’re the Grand Enchanter’s apprentice, aren’t you?” pointed out Callus. “Aren’t you answerable only to the Inquisitor, the Divine and the Grand Enchanter himself?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But I’m not even sixteen yet. Who would listen to a girl like me?”

“Then talk to the Grand Enchanter,” urged Callus.

“That might be a good idea,” agreed Fenris. “I’m not sure how Anders - _our_ Anders - will handle being around his... double... but if we explain the situation then perhaps between Anders and I we can persuade Meneris to override Nathaniel on this matter.”

“Speaking of trouble,” murmured Pin as none other than Nathaniel entered the infirmary at that moment, glancing around at the patients in the other beds before his eyes fell on the white-haired Anders who was curled up in Arden’s embrace, his head on the blond mage’s shoulder as he contentedly twirled a lock of Arden’s hair around his finger with an entranced look.

“We’ll see about that,” muttered Callus as he moved to stand in the way, blocking Nathaniel’s path to Arden’s bed. As Pin and Fenris stepped up to either side of him, Nathaniel came to a halt and eyed them up warily. “What is this?” asked the Warden.

“We’d like a word... Warden Commander,” said Callus with a grim smile.

***

Meneris lay quiet and content next to Dorian, his hands idly tracing some of the magister’s tattoo’s as he enjoyed the feel of his husband being next to him again. “I missed you _amatus_ , I’m sorry for worrying you earlier. _Ar lath ma, emma lath._ ”

“Given the circumstances, you were quite right to worry me,” frowned Dorian. “All things considered, given what has happened of late then I prefer to be here where I can assist than over there at far too great a remove to be of any use. And after all, I’m supposed to be Tevinter’s Ambassador to the Inquisition, not the other way round.”

“Still, I feel guilty over yelling at you like a schoolboy love. I’m just glad you’re home.” Meneris stretched out along Dorian’s side, twining their fingers together. “I worry for Fenris and the others. He’s dangerous even when he’s to going to pieces.”

“I dare say he’s even more dangerous then,” sighed Dorian. “He becomes more unpredictable then. At least with Anders or Zevran, they simply have a lamentable if more predictable response of trying to work themselves to a standstill - though I must admit I’m impressed that Zevran was capable of walking on a broken leg. That’s a level of stoicism quite beyond me, I must say.”

“I’d say it’s beyond most of us love,” Meneris replied quietly. “What do we do? We’ve got an Anders that’s addled, Invictus has put himself on confinement. Can you test for possession if he’s acting normally?” 

“Well, yes,” said Dorian. “The same test would apply, though if he’s been taking magebane then possibly that would neutralise the demon’s ability to attack back. But I can certainly try.”

“Let’s try tomorrow then, right now I think we’re all on edge and it wouldn’t do to test it. I’ll have Cullen stop the magebane in his food and we’ll call on him tomorrow afternoon.” Meneris gave his husband a tired grin. “I might need a nap after the...vigorous welcome home I gave you.”

Dorian’s answering chuckle was positively filthy. “And vigorous it was indeed, _amatus_ ,” he smiled. “Very well - perhaps we should have a word with Hal; he should have a good idea of how long it will take for the magebane to work its way out of Invictus’ system; I would presume he has been the one monitoring it and having it administered? Certainly I doubt anyone trusts the templars where that’s concerned now.”

“Yes, let’s talk to him after a nap? Then I might show you how happy I am to wake next to you again amatus.” Meneris gave him a long, slow kiss before snuggling up to his husband.

Dorian smiled softly as he rested his head against Meneris’ chest, feeling comfortably at peace for once. Whatever the issue with Invictus, he was certain that they would overcome it now they could bend the best minds of the Inquisition to the problem. “I trust our senior healer is recovered from his own brush with magebane then?” he mused quietly. 

“He is, and I’m glad for it. I know Parcival told him to rest up but he should be back on duty by now. Did you want to see him love, or do you need a nap?” Meneris interrupted himself with a yawn and a sheepish smile. “If you aren’t tired, I could do with a lie in.”

“I probably should speak to him,” nodded Dorian. “Particularly in light of what you told me about this eluvian.”

“Wake me when you return?” Meneris said as he watched Dorian edge over to get up.

Dorian chuckled. “ _Amatus_ , you do realise we’ve spent almost the whole afternoon in bed?” he pointed out as he began to dress.

The elven warrior sighed and sat up. “It was a glorious afternoon spent in bed you’ll have to admit.” Meneris watched Dorian dress reluctantly before he got out of bed as well. “Tomorrow we sleep in as late as we can, alright?”

“You have my word upon it, _amatus_!” smiled Dorian as he tightened the belt of his robe. “I shan’t be long - unless you care to come with me? We could head to dinner together directly after if you like.” 

“Very well, I should actually do some work today I suppose.” Meneris dressed quickly in casual wear and fell in next to Dorian. “Can we run away once all this is settled?”

“A most capital idea,” Dorian concurred as they headed towards the infirmary. “Might I suggest somewhere wonderfully dull and tedious? With absolutely no chance of random assassins dropping in.”

“Let’s go to the far reaches of the Anderfels then, and not tell anyone where are until we’ve been there a month.” Meneris replied as they rounded the corner.

Dorian was nearly knocked flying as Nathaniel stormed out of the infirmary with a face like thunder; the Warden Commander barely checked his stride as he snarled something that might have been a half-hearted attempt at an apology as he strode on down the hall.

“ _Venhedis_ , what in the Void...?” exclaimed Dorian as he stared back up the hall at the retreating back of the raven-haired archer before he glanced at Meneris, who was as equally perplexed. 

“I don’t think I want to know,” Meneris said as he peered into the infirmary and found Fenris and his children glowering at the doorway. “Problems?”

Pin glanced back over her shoulder, then towards Meneris and Dorian. “Not any longer, Inquisitor,” she replied. “In fact - not at all, I think.”

She stepped aside as Arden rose from his bed, his arm around the white-haired Anders as he stared at the Inquisitor and his magister spouse.

“Inquisitor, I formally request asylum for this man and ask that you order he remain in Skyhold until such time as I have cause to request you rescind that order,” the blond mage asked. 

Dorian blinked. “That’s... remarkably formal indeed, Arden,” he replied. 

“It has to be,” shrugged Arden. “I don’t want Anders falling into the hands of the wardens. I’ve given my word he’ll be safe, and... I need the Inquisitor’s order for that.”

“I will give that order to you,” Meneris replied. “We were coming to see Hal, has he been in recently?” 

Pin and Fenris both looked at Callus, who blushed and dropped his gaze to the floor, evidently discomforted by the question, the attention or possibly both.

“I haven’t seen him, Inquisitor,” answered Arden with a shrug.

“Then I’ll check his quarters, thank you.” He turned to Fenris and gave him an inquisitive look. “How are you doing? Last I heard you weren’t ...well.” 

“I’m not well but I will deal with it Meneris,” Fenris replied with a glance to his children.

“How are you, Pin?” asked Dorian with polite concern. “I understand you had an encounter with the eluvian down in Dagna’s workshop?”

“I’m... fine, Lord Pavus,” she replied. It was her turn to turn pink, it seemed; she blushed as she glanced to Meneris. “I just needed food and rest was all. I’m sorry I seem to have troubled everyone.”

“It’s alright Pin, the last week has been rather hard on all of us. If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to get them to their rooms and take an overdue nap. I will...come by your rooms later if you need a formal report Inquisitor.” Fenris looked away, hoping the other elf would leave him be for a while.

“Inquisitor?” Parcival paused at the door of the infirmary. “I’m sorry, I should have been here to greet you - is everything alright?”

“As well as can be, don’t mind us. I was looking for Hal, actually,” Meneris replied.

“He is probably in his room, he left once he was able to walk on his own,” Callus chimed in.

“Yes, I walked him to his room a few hours ago,” nodded Parcival. “Which is why I was handily close when Enchanter Arden collapsed. I don’t know what Ambassador Montilyet was thinking, putting the Warden-Commander in Arden’s room whilst he and Lord Pavus were in Tevinter - I suppose she didn’t realise at what short notice they’d return, and we do seem to be running short on accommodation at present - and forgive me, it’s... not really my place to pass comment on such matters,” he added as he suddenly recalled exactly who he was talking to. “But, ah, yes - Hal will likely be found in his quarters just below the Rookery.”

“Thank you Parcival.” Meneris glanced at Fenris and gave him a nod. “Come and have breakfast with us tomorrow? I would have an informal report from you, Ambassador Hawke.” 

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Fenris glanced at him then back at the floor as he waited for someone to leave first.

“I think I’d best go speak to Josephine,” sighed Arden. “I want Nathaniel well out of the way before I take Anders back to my rooms.”

“Father, we have to go the same way don’t we? We might as well go together, you need to check on Grand Enchanter Anders as well as Spymaster Hawke before you go back to sleep. We could all stop standing around looking at each other.” Callus said quickly.

“Very well, I ...do not look forward to revisiting them after what I let slip.” Fenris added as he looked to Meneris to lead them out.

“I’ll call upon you tomorrow afternoon Inquisitor, if I may?” said Arden as he began to coax Anders towards the door. The white-haired man glanced up as they drew level with the others and gave Callus a shy smile.

“Ah, Arden? I’d appreciate it if you return after you’ve spoken to Ambassador Montilyet,” said Parcival; Arden paused.

“Er, I could do; why?” asked Arden. The white-haired Anders peered at him curiously, then back at Parcival.

“I want to check over your, ah, companion, and be certain he’s fully well physically,” replied Parcival. “I understand he was involved in the... _altercation_ in the Grand Enchanter’s quarters, and I don’t think anyone’s really checked him over properly for injuries - he became too agitated when anyone tried, but he seems to have calmed greatly with your presence. I’d like to check him over myself, if I may?”

Arden glanced at his Anders and put his arm around his shoulders; the white-haired apostate leaned in against him and gazed at him trustingly.

“Very well; we shall return in a little while,” agreed Arden. “If there’s anything else, healer, Inquisitor?”

“No, that’s all, Arden,” answered Meneris. Arden nodded, then guided Anders towards the doors and departed in search of Josephine. Anders gave Callus another shy smile as they passed.

The younger elf returned his smile as they went past, dropping it as they followed behind Arden and his Anders; Fenris was quiet as they headed down the hall together, unsure how he would face his husbands after his transgression. 

Arden headed off in the direction of the diminutive Antivan ambassador’s office, drawing his Anders with him, leaving them to head back in the direction of the library. Pin slipped her hand through Callus’ arm as they followed the Inquisitor and Dorian. She darted a glance back over her shoulder at their father, then leaned in close to Callus.

“What happened whilst I was gone?” she murmured quietly. “Did something happen to Master Anders?”

“Something father said, but I’d rather not discuss where he can hear us. Come along, we can discuss this in my room after we make sure father gets to where he should be.” Callus replied softly.

“Go on, I am going to face them and make sure they are alright.” Fenris called over his shoulder. “I will find you in Callus’ rooms later?” 

“Alright, Father,” she nodded. She and her brother nodded to the other two men, then thankfully retreated back to the relative peace of Callus’ room.

“ _Amicus_ ,” said Dorian conversationally as they headed up the stairs past the library, “Far be it for me to insert my nose into the affairs of married men - well, any more, I mean. But do I detect a certain amount of reticence to face your husbands?”

“Yes, I have harmed them and I am afraid.” Fenris admitted. 

“Fenris, after all that you’ve been through together, I honestly don’t think there is much you could say or do that could harm either Anders or Zevran half so much as Invictus’ attack on you all did,” said Dorian gently. He moved to the door of Hal’s room and knocked, then turned and gave Fenris a reassuring smile as they waited.

“I forgot about Zevran, granted I was busy with Anders… but he hurt himself again and I...I said something I promised not ever say again to Anders. This past week is going to break me if anything else happens Dorian.” Fenris looked away as they waited for Hal to respond.

Dorian glanced back at the closed door and tapped again, before he turned back to Fenris. “ _Amicus_ , Anders is nothing if not a forgiving man. I’m sure he’ll understand that none of you are at your best at present.”

“I hope so, _Amicus_ , I hope so.” Fenris said as he looked up at the door opening.

Hal glanced at the three men as he hung back a little inside his room. “I... I’m sorry, I... didn’t hear the door,” he said quietly, half-turned away from them. “Is there a problem?” His arms were wrapped around his torso as he stood there, not quite looking up at them properly.

“What isn’t wrong?” Fenris replied tersely, before he felt a smack to his head.

Meneris was glaring at the white-haired elf; Fenris glowered back before he glanced back and realised Hal’s room was in darkness, and the red-haired mage still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Hal? Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step closer to the healer.

“I’m fine,” Hal replied hurriedly as he withdrew a little into his room.

“Hal, this isn’t fine. You’re sulking as I do. What’s wrong?” Fenris asked as he followed Meneris and Dorian into the room.

“You can talk to us, it’s alright Hal.” Meneris said as he tried to find a spot to sit. “A bit of light please, Dorian?”

Wordlessly, Dorian complied, calling up a ball of magelight upon the palm of one uplifted hand that drifted up into the air as it illuminated the room. They blinked at the mess and disorder the light revealed, as Hal turned away and shuffled further into the room.

Books and clothes were strewn around the room, the linen stripped from the bed and piled into a corner into a haphazard nest of pillows, blankets and down comforter. Several plates of half-eaten food were piled on top of piles of books and papers shoved negligently onto the desk. The curtains were drawn. There were dried bloodstains splashed up the walls and across some of the detritus upon the floor, and with a start Dorian realised the room must have already been in this state when Zevran had disturbed the would-be assassins he’d slaughtered in this room.

Hal glanced back at them, the magelight reflecting oddly from his golden eye, the other eye and the terrible scar bisecting it both hidden by his dishevelled hair.

“Hal... how long have you been living like this?” asked Dorian in a hushed voice. “This... this isn’t merely a few days’ mess. This is... this is weeks of... of....” The word “squalor” was upon the tip of his tongue but as he stared at the young mage, he fell silent.

“Hal, what is wrong?” asked Fenris as he stepped towards the red-haired young man; but Hal turned away.

 

***

Zevran leaned over Anders and gently stroked a stray lock of dark gold hair away from the sleeping man’s eyes. 

Once Fenris had left them, Anders had broken down weeping, though he wouldn’t answer when Zevran asked him softly what was wrong. Perhaps it was something the blond mage _couldn’t_ speak of; Zevran had slowly come to recognise when such subjects came up. Rather than press Anders for answers, he had gently held the distraught mage. 

He was aware it must have been something Fenris had said, though the other elf had not behaved as though he and Anders had fought. It must have been some casual mark then - some innocent catalyst that set off a cascade of reactions in Anders’ mind that on top of everything that had happened lately perhaps was a little more than Anders was able to cope with. There was a fragile brittleness about the blond mage that suggested it would not take much for him to break further.

So he had simply held Anders until the storm of tears had subsided and the mage could be persuaded to lay down upon the bed next to the former Crow; and it was little surprise at all that the exhausted man dropped swiftly into sleep a little while thereafter.

Zevran let two fingers trail featherlight across the sleeping man’s face; Anders didn’t stir, and the Antivan sighed softly. It had been some hours since Fenris had retreated from the rookery with the promise of returning later to retrieve the empty tray. As Zevran glanced to the balcony he could see the golden light of the setting sun gilding the walls of the fortress, and he frowned.

“Anders,” he called softly, but the mage was lost deep in dreams. Zevran sighed and drew away. pursing his lips, he sat up and whistled softly. He was rewarded by a whirring of wings.

“I must know what is a-foot. SInce I cannot go myself, you must be my eyes, eh?” the elf remarked to the raven perched at the foot of his bed. The bird gave a soft _caw_ before hopping down upon the bedspread then slowly approached Zevran. He smiled and beckoned to the bird.

“I wonder, can you bear a message to a particular person for me?” he mused as the bird hopped onto his outstretched wrist. It tilted its head to one side and regarded him inscrutably. “Well, we shall see.”

He leaned over towards his bedside table, careful not to jostle the bird perched upon his wrist as it dug clawed talons into his bare skin. “Easy, my feathered friend,” the elf murmured as he retrieved quill and a scrap of parchment. He hastily scrawled a message, then rolled up the slip of parchment and tucked it into the ring around the bird’s leg. “Now, I need you to fly and bear this message to Cullen. Can you do that for me? The Commander. Yes?”

The bird croaked then ducked its head twice before spreading its wings and launching itself towards the balcony then winged steadily away.

Zevran sighed, and hoped the bird were smart enough to have understood his words. The ravens were smarter than any other birds he’d encountered - not that as a Crow he’d ever particularly paid attention to any bird unless it was roasted and upon his plate; but these birds did seem to possess a certain wily cunning and an intelligence beyond most feathered creatures he’d encountered. Still, messages - and the birds carrying them - were known to go astray sometimes, and if the Commander were not in his quarters then there was no certainty of the bird being able to find him. Still, with Anders so deeply asleep, no sign of Fenris and lacking the ability to get down the stairs safely himself, Zevran needed to find some other way of drawing attention to himself.

“Ironic,” he mused to himself. “An assassin actually seeking to draw attention to himself.” He glanced at Anders, but the mage was still fast asleep.

Zevran sighed. “I wonder what it is you dream of, my love?” he mused. He settled back against the pillows as he stared down at Anders’ sleeping face.

**

“Mythal’s tits… what is this Hal? You’re living ...in squalor, no better than a Minrathous slave in here!” Fenris exclaimed.

Hal was turned away from him, hugging himself as he hunched over slightly. “Please... please don’t shout,” he murmured. “I’m.. I’m sorry, I wasn’t... expecting....”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. But this isn’t healthy _amatus_.” Fenris said softly as he approached Hal and led him to the one chair with nothing on it. “Let me help, or get servants in here to clean and you can stay with me until your room is ...decent.”

Dorian was staring around the room slowly, one arched eyebrow his only outward sign of his discomposure. “This is not merely a few days or even a week or two of... of neglect,” he said quietly. “This looks like weeks... maybe months. Hal... how long has this been going on?”

Hal slumped and buried his face in his hands. “Since... since Bull left,” he said softly, his voice colourless, barely more than a whisper.  
Fenris caught himself before he could start yelling again and let his fingers run through the mage’s hair. “Come on, Dorian is taking you to my room and I’ll have this place set to rights. Neither of us should be alone right now I think.” 

“I’ll put the order in for it, and Hal, I want to talk with you later or tomorrow about...this. You’re not in trouble, but this isn’t healthy. As a healer you should know that.” Meneris said quietly.

“Tomorrow... please, I just... I just want a while... I’m sorry, I just wanted a few hours alone so I wouldn’t trouble anyone, I just - please, not yet?” pleased Hal as he looked up at them, his eyes red and wet.

“Of course, but you know you can rest in my rooms if you want. It’s quiet and the bed should be turned over if you want to sleep while I check on Zevran and Anders.” Fenris offered as he held Hal’s hands loosely in his.

Dorian had averted his eyes, unwilling to intrude and feeling ill at ease as he glanced to Meneris.

“Please let us help Hal, and you can speak to me when you’re ready. Or if not me, then Dorian or Fenris.” Meneris added.

Hal glanced at the Inquisitor, then lowered his head for a moment, evidently thinking it over, before he glanced up at Fenris again. “I’m sorry - I’ve worried you, and that’s what I was trying so hard _not_ to do,” he said softly.

“It’s alright Hal, this is nothing to make yourself upset over. Come on, let’s get you to my room. Well let Dorian get you there, and I need to face Zevran and Anders as well as check on them before I join you.” Fenris said as he rose and tried to tug Hal to his feet.

“Oh Maker,” moaned Hal. “You - you should go check on them, they - Anders needs you more, and Zevran -” He broke off with a small little half-vocalised whimper of distress as he pulled his hands free, and then pressed one hand to the scar that split his forehead with a very quiet moan. “I’ll - I’ll be fine. They need you more than me.”

“Not until you walk out with Dorian to my rooms. Please let me see that and I will return to you as soon as I can, amatus.” Fenris said quietly.

Dorian stepped forward with one hand outstretched towards Hal. “Come along; wouldn’t you rather rest in a nice clean bed than on the floor in the corner?”

Hal stared at the Tevinter magister, then at Meneris, then finally up at Fenris. His shoulders slumped, and he hung his head then finally nodded slightly. “As you wish,” he murmured quietly as he rose to his feet.

Fenris pulled him into his arms briefly and told him he’d be with him soon as he could before he pulled back and let Dorian take charge of Hal. “I’ll be swift as I can, my rooms should be cleaned and warmer than in here.”

“Of course, we’ll check on you both tomorrow.” Meneris gave him a sad look before letting everyone out of the room. 

Hal obediently followed Meneris and Dorian out of the room, then glanced at Fenris. “I’m sorry; I’ve upset you,” he said sadly. “You... weren’t supposed to see that. Or me like.. like this.”

Fenris tilted Hal’s head up so he could see the other man’s eyes. “Hal, you’ve seen me at my worst. You’ve seen me go utterly to pieces, this is no crime for me to have seen this. I’m glad we found you, so we can help you. There is no shame between us, ever. Now go relax in my room and I’ll see you soon alright?” 

Meneris kept quiet as he watched them, surprised at how tender the other elf could be, rather how he let himself be seen.

“Alright,” echoed Hal with a small nod of his head before he turned to glance at Dorian, who gave him a kindly if worried look before glancing to Fenris.

“I’ll see him settled safely in your rooms, _amicus_ ,” he assured the white-haired warrior.

Fenris gave him a nod then headed off to deal with his own demons. He opened the door, calling out so those damned birds wouldn’t swoop down and attack. “Zevran?”

“I am here,” the Antivan elf called back, his voice low. “Anders is sleeping. I had feared you had forgotten us once more, _carissimi_.” Although Zevran’s voice was mild, with no hint of reproach, still Fenris felt a hot blush of embarrassment slowly burning his cheeks. 

The warrior kept going, his expression subdued as he reached the landing. “I am sorry, forgive me.” Fenris said.

Zevran was sitting up in bed, leaning over the huddled form of Anders who was curled upon his side, one hand limply hanging over the edge of the mattress, fast asleep.

“You are here now, _carissimi_ ,” shrugged Zevran. “I do not think you would have been gone so long without reason, no?”

Fenris kept his head bowed and his voice low. “I was seeking Hal to see if he’d done any more here, as well as checking on Pin. She was found after I ran in shame from you both. He’s...been unwell since the Ben-Hassrath spy left the Keep.” 

Zevran straightened with a frown. “Unwell you say? What malady has he hidden from us, _carissimi_? He had seemed well, I thought - at least until his unfortunate encounter with the templars.”

“Emotionally unwell it seems. He’s resting in my room while his own space is cleaned.” Fenris replied quietly as he approached and knelt before Zevran. “What do you both need? I’m at your disposal.”

“Emotionally...!” Zevran broke off, then glanced down at Anders’ sleeping face. “Then I suspect it is a contagious malady, _carissimi_ , for I fear Anders, too may suffer the same - though perhaps for different reasons.” He lightly stroked Anders’ face; the mage frowned slightly in his sleep and sighed, then was still once more. Zevran glanced over to Fenris. “His reaction to something you seem to have said seems to have thrown him, and yet you two did not act earlier as though you had fought. So, I thought to myself, it cannot have been some small word that was responsible for his reaction, and I am thinking perhaps the word you said was a straw and the camel was deeply unhappy, no? Its back has not broken but it is not strong.”

“I broke a promise, never to say something to him. My own distress overtook my good sense and I’ve hurt him. I left you while I wallowed in self-pity, my own daughter nearly perished because I couldn’t find her before she found an Eluvian. I ...am, I have not taken care of either of you as a husband or friend should. What is it you need now, what can I do for both of you?” Fenris asked as he kept his gaze averted. 

“ _Carissimi_ , I -” Zevran got no further as there was a knock at the door at the bottom of the stairs, and then the sound of the door opening.

“Spymaster, I came as quickly as I could,” called Cullen a little breathlessly as he hurried up the stairs, two of his men behind him carrying trays whilst Cullen himself bore a jug of water in one hand and a couple of bottles of wine tucked under the opposite arm. “I’ve brought food, water, wine - Anders, is he....”

Cullen’s voice trailed off as he arrived at the top of the stairs and spotted Fenris as the white-haired elf stared at him, still kneeling beside the bed.

“I sent a raven,” said Zevran apologetically. “Though I could not be certain that she would even find the right person, or even understand what I asked of her.”

“Yes, well, I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting a sudden aerial attack whilst in the sparring ring,” said Cullen ruefully as he set the jug and bottles down on Zevran’s desk and gestured for his men to set down the trays.

Fenris rose and got out of the way until the guards left them alone. He refused to look at the Commander, his gaze on the floor as he debating running away since the floor didn’t open up to swallow him whole. 

“Anders - how is he?” asked Cullen quietly as he moved closer towards the bed with a brief glance at Fenris before turning a concerned look upon the sleeping mage.

“He is perhaps as well as may be expected under the circumstances,” shrugged Zevran. “All things considered, sleeping is perhaps the healthiest response, no?”

“I, ah, I can understand that,” nodded Cullen. “Demon attacks are... distressing enough, even when they don’t concern a - a partner, or loved one.” He stared down at Anders pensively. “I understand that all too well myself.”

“I know you do,” said Zevran softly as he glanced up at Cullen.

“Ah - yes, you were with Solona when....”

“Kinloch,” nodded Zevran. “Yes.” He sighed. “Commander, I must ask... Invictus?”

Cullen sighed heavily. “Confined to his quarters and taking magebane with every meal - by his own request, I might add.”

Zevran frowned slightly then glanced away, a faint flicker of pain in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly.

Fenris glanced to Zevran and to Cullen at the former templar’s words before he resumed staring at the floor. “You have food and drink Zevran, do you require anything else?” he asked finally.

“Only the company of my husbands,” replied the Antivan quietly.

“I’ll, ah, take my leave of you then,” replied Cullen. He nodded to Zevran then, with another glance to Fenris, turned and headed back down the stairs, closing the door behind himself silently.

“Will you stay?” asked Zevran quietly once they were alone. His voice was soft and subdued, the blond elf not looking up.

“If I will not cause more harm, and you can bear my company I will remain.” Fenris said as looked to Zevran finally. 

“I think it would hurt me far more were you to go,” replied Zevran, not lifting his eyes.

“Sit back and I’ll bring you a tray.” Fenris said as he quickly gathered tea, a bowl of chicken stew and warm bread for his husband before setting it on a tray. “Do you need help to eat?” 

“No, but I would be glad if you would sit near me, _carissimi_ ,” answered Zevran as he tried to sit himself more upright with a faint hiss of pain.

Anders stirred slightly and made a soft sound of protest before turning his face into the pillow, hunching in upon himself a little tighter.

Fenris took up a chair near the bed after setting the tray down. He stared at the floor as he pondered Invictus, Anders and Zevran. How he wanted to simply hide in shame rather than remain with two of his three spouses. 

Anders made another sound of protest in his sleep and mumbled something. Zevran paused in the act of eating to cast the blond mage a worried look. “He is a restless sleeper,” he murmured before taking another bite.

“Always has been, he’ll likely wake soon either from the smell of food or us talking if a nightmare doesn’t wake him.” Fenris said listlessly. As he spoke, Anders shifted restlessly again, turning his face to gasp softly.

“I do not know if he will wish to see me after my careless words earlier, even if you desire my company.” Fenris said as he fidgeted, ready to flee if Anders reacted poorly to seeing him. 

“Can’t breathe... too dark,” Anders suddenly said distinctly as he twisted slightly round and clutched at the neck of his tunic. “Too... too dark....”

Fenris sat forward but caught himself before he jumped over to help. “Should I wake him?” he asked cautiously

“I think you must,” replied Zevran as he stared at Anders with clear worry in his eyes. “It would be cruel to leave him tormented by such dreams, no?”

Anders had twisted round onto his back and one hand clutched at the white linen bandage about his throat. “Fenris... help me, I can’t breathe,” he whimpered breathlessly, his eyes closed.

The elven warrior approached and gently took Anders hands in his so he would stop grabbing at his shirt or bandage. “I’m here, come back to us. Wake up Anders, wake up for us.” Fenris called.

“Can’t... drowning, he’s drowning me,” Anders moaned as he tossed his head, though his eyelids shivered slightly.

“Wake up!” Fenris snapped as he tried to get Anders to respond. “Please, you are scaring me.” he replied. 

Anders’ eyes flew open and he cried out in shock and briefly struggled against Fenris’ grip for a moment before his wild eyes focused on Fenris and he abruptly stopped struggling, his hands relaxing and his wrists limp in the elf’s grasp. “Fenris?” he managed weakly. 

“Yes, unfortunately.” the elf let go and let Anders land softly on the bed. “You were caught in a nightmare, I was here for a change when you needed me.” 

“ _Carissimi_ ,” murmured Zevran in very soft reproach. Anders was too intent on disentangling himself from the bedcovers so he could sit up and missed the Antivan’s low murmur. The blond mage managed to extricate himself from the bed enough to swing his long legs down to the floor and he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. 

“I’m glad you woke me,” he said tiredly. “That wasn’t one of the better dreams.”

“There is food if you wish it. Do you need help to get out of bed?” Fenris asked, pointedly ignoring Zevran. 

Anders nodded. “I think I’m still more than halfway asleep,” he admitted as he yawned then tugged at the down comforter. “I must have been more tired than I thought; I didn’t even undress.”

Fenris pulled the covers away and offered his arm to his husband, his demeanor subdued once more.

Anders let Fenris help him to his feet, then he leaned into the elven warrior’s support as he stumbled slightly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, blinking blearily. Behind them, Zevran was watching them with concern, his stew forgotten for the moment.

“Have a seat, the food should still be hot.” Fenris uncovered a bowl and poured Anders some tea, and even put in a spoonful of honey for his husband. “Do you require anything else?”

Anders sat and watched, his eyes softening and a smile slowly curving his lips as Fenris stirred the honey into the tea; he lifted his warm brown gaze to Fenris as he gave him a loving look. “Thank you, love,” he said softly before he turned his attention to the stew and began to eat, his movements slow as he tried to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.

“You’re welcome, do you need anything further?” Fenris asked as he sat down and waited for Anders to finish. 

“I don’t think so,” Anders shook his head. He took a sip of tea. “Oh Maker, I need this,” he sighed. he lowered the mug then glanced at Fenris and noticed the absence of a bowl in front of the elf. “Not eating, love?”

“No, I will eat later.” Fenris replied quietly. He kept his gaze down and fidgeted under Anders’ scrutiny.

Anders’ reply was a noncommittal grunt as he turned back to his stew; after a little while however, he glanced over at the elf again. His mind was slowly clearing the fog of sleep and as the edge of his hunger was blunted, he finally had started paying a little more attention - and he recognised the elf’s body language all too clearly, after so many years living around Fenris.

Rather than say anything and force Fenris to possibly have to confront this with words, Anders merely sighed silently to himself; and as he busied himself with his mug of tea he reached out with his free hand to lace his fingers with those of the elf. He squeezed them lightly as he ran his thumb gently across Fenris’ knuckles, keeping his gaze lowered.

The elven warrior glanced up at the feel of Anders hand slipping into his. He blinked as he felt the gentle way he was touched, his breath hitched at each pass of the mage’s thumb against his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” he finally said.

“I know,” said Anders quietly. He set his mug down and finally looked up at Fenris. “I know, love.” He gave Fenris’ hand a light tug, drawing the warrior closer.

“I broke my promise, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I hurt you, I’m sorry.” Fenris let himself be pulled over and into Anders arms with a low sob.

“Hush, love, I forgive you,” Anders murmured as he wrapped his arms around Fenris and pressed a light kiss to the soft white hair. “It’s been hard for all of us lately.”

Zevran suddenly found the contents of his bowl intensely fascinating as he tried to almost ignore them, unwilling to intrude on the moment between the two men.

“I don’t deserve it, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Fenris sniffed as he tried to curl up small as he could against Anders without forcing him from his chair.

“Hey now, stop that,” Anders chided gently. “I said I forgive you, Fenris. We’re none of us at our best - Maker, I know _I_ certainly am not, and I know Zevran’s trying to think through a lot of pain even if he refuses to admit it -” He ignored the sudden cough the Antivan seemed to develop between one spoonful of stew and the next. “So don’t beat yourself up over this, alright? I forgive you, and I still love you.”

Fenris wiped at his face and sat up, a bit embarrassed by his outburst. “I was scared I’d hurt you for the last time, that it was the final straw. I apologize for this, for everything. I am grateful you still love me. I have not been ...a good husband to you or Zevran.” 

“Circumstances haven’t exactly been in our favour,” Anders pointed out with a shrug. “We all nearly died less than a day after marrying, and we haven’t had a great deal of time together since then in which we could just relax and be ourselves without something else going wrong - assassins attacking, your trip to Tevinter - and Maker, but I still have no idea how you came to be back here again, and Dorian too - and Nathaniel being here was a complete surprise as well. Fenris, when have you had any real _chance_ to be a good husband? Or Zevran? Or I?” He carefully made no mention of Invictus. He had this uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t want to examine his own feelings on their other husband just yet; he felt that almost comforting greyness just lurking, beckoning, if he thought on what Invictus had done too hard. He found his hand had crept up to touch the white linen about his throat without conscious thought.

“I was never a good partner before we were married.” Fenris said dully before he reached for Anders’ hands. “Add my failure to keep Pin and Callus safe, and I’m just an all around winner this week.” he let his thumb sweep over the other man’s pale, freckled hand as he considered what he wanted to say. 

“Callus... did something happen to him? Pin... she’s alright, isn’t she?” asked Anders, a look of worry in his soft brown eyes.

“Now she is, I couldn’t even keep her safe. Hal brought her back and seems to be doing better now. Callus ...is, he isn’t really speaking much on things to me.” Fenris said as he stared at the table.

“Back? Back from where?” said Anders slowly, a look of alarm slowly dawning in his eyes.

“She found an Eluvian it seemed, I’m not sure where she was exactly. I’d gone to pieces in my room, and Cal had to drag me out of my stupor.” Fenris admitted. 

“An Eluvian?” Anders blinked. “You mean... Hal went into an Eluvian to bring her back?”

“I believe so yes, Dagna and Meneris saw him jump right into it. They are both back and safe now, can we not speak of it for now? It was upsetting enough to see at the time.” Fenris begged.

“I’m sorry,” Anders murmured contritely. “But - she’s alright? And Hal - you said he seems to be doing better? I’ve been worried about him since the templars got their hands on him,” he confessed.

“He’s not alright, he’s in my room resting. We discovered that he’d been living in squalor since Bull left,” Fenris said quietly.

“What?” exclaimed Anders, startled; from the sound of Zevran’s spoon striking his bowl, the Antivan was just as surprised.

“Please don’t yell, I can’t take it right now,” Fenris said.

“But - I don’t understand,” said Anders in a quieter tone, bewildered. “He’s always clean and tidy - he keeps the infirmary immaculately clean. He’s always incredibly neat and fastidious in the dispensary - Maker, he puts me to shame, the mess I leave in there when I’ve been brewing potions, sometimes!”

“I don't know what to say about it, my guess is he’s not been one hundred percent honest with us about how he’s dealt with Bull’s exile,” Fenris said slowly. 

Anders glanced away, a guilty expression stealing over his face. “Maker. I should have seen it. I work with him near-daily in the infirmary; I should have seen that all wasn’t well.”

“You cannot be held to blame,” said Zevran in a low voice. “He kept it hidden from us all, even Fenris; if he could keep his troubles secret even from the man with whom he shares a bed, then how was anyone else to know?” He shrugged. “He is young, but he has learned to hide much of himself.”

“That’s just it,” sighed Anders. “He _is_ young. And we haven’t made allowances for that. I guess when he was still Endrin, he just seemed far older than he actually is - to the point where we forgot he’s nearly half my age. We’ve put too much on his shoulders, perhaps - expected too much, after all he’s been through.”

“He has been used to being looked after, no?” said Zevran as he set his bowl aside. “First imprisoned in the Circle, then Tranquil, then by his own Hawke, Arden - and their Fenris and Anders also - and then by the Bull. Bereft of his keeper, is it any wonder the boy came adrift? It is only a wonder we did not see this sooner.”

“Bull wasn’t his keeper - Hal wasn’t his slave!” snarled Fenris, hackles rising in reflex.

“No?” replied Zevran, unperturbed. “The Iron Bull was Ben-Hassrath, well versed in Qunari conditioning techniques, and Hal is young, vulnerable - he was barely functional when we left for Halamshiral, and had you not remained behind, who would have looked after him? Yet what did the Bull do to bring Hal out of his fugue state? He had his reasons for keeping Hal, I think - and keeping Hal in that state.”

“What are you saying?” asked Anders slowly.

“Did you never wonder where the Bull went to when he left Skyhold?” asked Zevran in a conversational tone.

“I neither know nor care,” growled Fenris. He didn’t like how this conversation was going; he already felt an acute sense of guilt over the young red-haired mage that was all tangled up in his feelings of guilt over how he’d treated both Anders and Zevran and felt he’d failed both Pin and Callus, and Zevran’s words and hints only stirred up a deeper guilt that he had not been able to prevent the Qunari warrior’s attack upon Hal.

But Anders was leaning forward in his chair to stare at Zevran. “I didn’t, but perhaps we should have?” he said slowly.

“He made from Skyhold directly to Jader - and thence took ship to Seheron, by... indirect ways,” said Zevran. “He did not stay long upon Seheron however, from what my sources could tell me. He then reappeared briefly in Kirkwall and was known to have visited the Black Emporium. Varric informed me that he was also seen in the alienage before he disappeared again.”

“Kirkwall?” exclaimed Anders. “What in the Void was he doing there?”

“A very good question. He was also seen in the vicinity of Hawke’s house... and also in Darktown.”

Anders’ eyes widened. “Darktown? But why -” He fell silent as he mentally connected dots. “My old clinic,” he said softly. “He was tracking down our past.”

“But why the Black Emporium? And the alienage?” said Fenris, frowning. “Wait - Merrill’s house?”

“The Eluvians!” guessed Anders, glancing to Fenris. “But - they were destroyed! The one in Merrill’s house was smashed when I jumped through to follow Arden, and the one in the Black Emporium was smashed in Hawke’s basement when we escaped the Fade and left Hal -”

“When we left Hal behind,” said Fenris heavily.

“Just so,” said Zevran calmly. “Whether it were for the Eluvians, or for Hal, that he went there, I do not know.”

“Where is he now?” asked Fenris heavily. Zevran spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

“I do not know. He disappeared not long after Varric took up the Viscount’s throne in Kirkwall, and neither his agents nor mine have found any trace of him after his last sighting near Anders’ clinic in Darktown - which is still there, by the way,” he added, glancing to Anders. “Varric has arranged to keep it open and running; there are three apostates who provide healing to the poor and destitute.”

Anders blinked, and then gave a tremulous smile. “Varric did that?” he said softly. “That’s... that’s good of him.”

“But what purpose would the Iron Bull have in seeking either the Eluvians or Hal?” said Fenris, frowning.

“Business left unfinished, perhaps,” said Zevran quietly. 

“I don’t think we should share this with Hal,” said Anders quietly; Fenris slowly nodded agreement.

“Given his current mental state, that would be unwise,” the white-haired elf agreed.

“I take it the Inquisitor knows about this?” Anders asked.

“He does,” nodded Zevran. “As does Cullen.”

Fenris grunted. He dragged his gaze towards the Antivan, who had stretched out across the bed, the better to see them both; Zevran had dragged a pillow with him and was resting his arms upon it, his chin upon his forearm as he regarded the other elf and the blond mage, his legs sprawled out behind him. Fenris could see that the right leg was splinted and bandaged from groin to a little below the knee.

“What of his... story?” Fenris asked unwillingly in spite of himself. 

“The one about seeing a black dragon?” replied Zevran. “That was a curious thing, no?” The Antivan turned his head slightly so that his cheek rested upon his forearm, a lock of pale gold hair falling forward to cover one eye; Fenris restrained the urge to lean forward and brush it aside.

“The ship he departed upon bore the sigil of a black dragon,” went on Zevran. “I do not yet know what the significance is of this sigil but when he arrived in Kirkwall Varric said it was with a mercenary group named the Drake’s Breath - and their sigil, too, is a black dragon.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” said Anders with a frown.

“It seems unlikely, does it not?” agreed Zevran.

“But what does this have to do with whatever plans he may have had concerning Hal?” asked Fenris.

Zevran shrugged as he peered at Fenris from behind the errant lock of hair. “That, I have not yet discovered, alas.” He shifted slightly upon the bed then stilled with a faint wince.

“You’re still in pain, let me get you a potion.” Fenris said as he jumped up to look around on Zevran’s desk. 

Anders glanced at the desk. “Ah, love, perhaps best if I do a little healing? Something tells me it would be all too easy to grab something toxic by mistake....” He turned to Zevran. “You should have mentioned sooner you were in discomfort,” he added chidingly. 

Zevran shrugged. “It is only a little uncomfortable,” he disagreed. “Do not trouble yourself.”

“Zevran....” said Anders with a frown; as the Antivan merely stared at him, he sighed and sat back. “You’re too damned stubborn by half,” the blond mage scolded.

Fenris stopped and turned to Anders with a snide reply ready but caught himself. He’d been upset by the information revealed on Bull, and it wasn’t their fault. Instead he returned to the table and tried to calm himself. 

Zevran merely watched him, that stray lock of hair still half-obscuring one eye as he lay there.

Anders sighed. “Perhaps I should go check on Hal. Where is he?”

“I said he was in my rooms, however he may feel as if we’re ganging up on him if I bring you with me.” Fenris replied tiredly. 

“Oh,” said Anders as he sat back. “Um. Maybe not then.”

Zevran’s eyes flicked between Fenris and Anders; the white-haired warrior felt an irrational surge of annoyance at the stray strand of hair that nearly covered the Antivan’s left eye and which Zevran had still not brushed aside.

“I probably ought to go find where my new rooms are,” the blond mage sighed with a shrug as his gaze dropped to his hands.

“Zevran, once he’s found his rooms you should join Anders. I worry about you up here, unable to get around on your own. At least in Anders’ room you can hop to the door without worrying about stairs if you need something.” Fenris said as he fought the urge to brush the hair from the other elf’s face. 

Zevran lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I can get around up here easily enough; the stairs would pose some small trouble however, I would agree.” He blinked then tossed his head slightly; the strand of hair merely slipped to cover his other eye as he rested his cheek upon his forearm once more.

“Zevran, please do this for me. I ...would be more at ease knowing you are together.” Fenris said as he rose and joined his elven husband. Anders had lifted his head to give Zevran a small pleading look as Fenris spoke; the Antivan groaned good-naturedly.

“Ah, I cannot withstand you both at once!” he protested with a small, huffed laugh. “Very well, very well! I submit! You have defeated me both. I surrender; I shall go to Anders’ room and be a good little Antivan brat, hmm?”

“Being a brat is my job in this relationship, leave me something to do.” Fenris said as he finally reached out to brush Zevran’s hair away. 

The former Crow blinked at the light touch of Fenris’ fingers as they tucked the errant lock of hair back behind his ear, and then he closed his eyes with a little quiet “oh....”

“I don’t know why, but it was bothering me.” Fenris said before he leaned in for a kiss. “I love you, I’m sorry for not caring as I should.” he whispered. Zevran tilted his face towards Fenris, his eyes still closed as he returned the kiss before slowly rolling onto his side and opening his eyes.

“I have missed you, _carissimi_ ,” he said huskily.

“Sorry that I was ...away.” Fenris replied, his voice soft as he caressed Zevran’s face. The blond elf made a small noise of encouragement as he turned his face a little, just enough to kiss Fenris’ palm as he kept his eyes on the warrior.

“I might be a bit of a mess, but I’m here now.” Fenris admitted. 

“I think perhaps we all are,” said Anders quietly as he dropped his gaze back to his hands again.

“You are both here,” said Zevran softly.

“Let’s get you and Anders settled, then I will check on Hal, then perhaps see if he is up to company besides me?” Fenris said quietly. 

Zevran reached out to lace his fingers with those of Fenris. “I would settle myself all the faster if I could see you eat and drink first, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured as he drew Fenris’ hand to his lips then kissed the lyrium-lined fingers slowly, one after another, his eyes never leaving those of the warrior.

“I’ll be fine, I am more concerned with getting you both to Anders’ rooms and then I will worry about food. I’ve gone without before, it won’t kill me Zevran.” Fenris tried to keep his other hand from their view as he felt a slight tremble that would give him away. 

Anders frowned slightly as he noticed the way Fenris held himself; he straightened and closed his eyes for a moment and then his frown deepened. “No, Zevran’s right,” he said firmly. “Fenris, you’re going to sit down and actually eat something before you fall over.”

Zevran’s lips curved in a knowing smile as he kissed the back of Fenris’ hand, his fingers tightening briefly. “Your body betrays you, _carissimi_ ,” he whispered before he released Fenris’ fingers.

“I’m fine, really. It’s nothing compared to a broken leg Zevran.” Fenris said as he glanced to Anders with a slight smile. “You never have enough to eat, don’t try and make it seem like I will wither to nothing with a few missed meals.” 

“That’s not the point, Fenris,” Anders shook his head. “What will happen if you suddenly have a dizzy turn on the stairs as we’re helping Zevran down from here?”

“I’m fine to get you to your rooms, please believe me Anders.” Fenris replied as he dropped his gaze to the floor again. “Don’t fuss over me, I’ll be alright.”

“I’d be happier if I could see you eat,” sighed Anders. “You wouldn’t let _me_ get away with not eating.”

Zevran rolled slowly over onto his back with a faint wince before he settled himself with his hands resting loosely upon his chest as he closed his eyes. “I refuse to be moved until Fenris has eaten,” he said firmly.

Fenris rolled his eyes and muttered about overbearing husbands as he went to the table and got a bowl of stew. “Fine, if I eat some of this will you leave off coddling me?” he asked. 

“We’re just worried about you, love,” said Anders gently. “Much as you are when I don’t eat properly.”

“We are not going anywhere until you, also, have finished eating, Anders,” said Zevran, not opening his eyes. Anders grinned ruefully and turned back to his own half-finished bowl of stew.

“I don’t have a warden’s metabolism that needs to be sated. I don’t ...care for being ordered to eat.” Fenris said before he dug into his meal, hungry despite his protests. 

“No, you just have a larger body whose energy demands you haven’t fully adjusted to yet,” replied Anders drily as he reached for his mug of tea, determined not to rise to Fenris’ tone of voice. Behind them, Zevran remained silent, his eyes closed as he waited.

“I despise it every day, I don’t think I’ll ever adjust to what I’ve become.” Fenris said as he nudged his empty bowl away and reached for tea. 

“Have you considered returning to the pool and... asking Mythal to... I don’t know, return you to your former size and take away the, ah, the dragon stuff?” suggested Anders. “After all, that bit was to help defeat Corypheus and his arch-demon; it’s not as though you _need_ to be a dragon any more, is it?”

“No, I have asked...in other ways and this cannot be undone. Revoking Her ...gifts may well kill me.” Fenris rose and began to gather Zevran’s things in a bag. “I don’t wish to speak on that, please.” he said as he opened a dresser with no idea what he was looking for.

“I’m sorry,” Anders replied on reflex. “It was just a suggestion.” He glanced down into his half-empty mug and gave a very small, quiet sigh.

Fenris didn’t answer, he continued to gather things for Zevran before he could lose his temper. “Do you require anything else before we go downstairs?” 

Anders glanced at the Antivan elf when Zevran didn’t answer; the blond elf’s chest rose and fell steadily with slow, quiet breaths. “I... I think he’s fallen asleep,” he replied, a faint tone of disbelief creeping into his voice.

“Let him rest then, I’ll come back to get him after you’ve settled in your room.” Fenris set the bag down by the door and waited for Anders to join him.

The blond mage rose to his feet and bent over Zevran for a moment, resting a hand lightly upon the sleeping elf’s shoulder as he sent out his healer’s senses. He was still for perhaps a handful of heartbeats before he straightened and turned towards Fenris. “He’s completely out for the count,” he said, shaking his head. “He must have been far more tired than I realised.”

“You both have been ill and not given a chance to really rest, come along and let him sleep.” Fenris said. Anders nodded and obediently followed after Fenris as the elf led the way back downstairs from the rookery.

“I have no idea where my new room is,” Anders confessed. “I guess we should call on Josephine first.”

The elven warrior led the way to his fellow ambassador’s office, eager to get Anders settled and return to his room so he could find out more of what ailed Hal. He was tired as well, and ready for a nap though it wasn’t late. “Pardon us Ambassador Montilyet, but we don’t know where Anders has been moved to.” Fenris said.

The Antivan woman looked up from the document she was reading, and smiled at them both. “Ah, Ambassador Hawke, Grand Enchanter! How fortunate you both arrived just now; I have some papers here that require your signature, Anders. Certain documents that Arden brought with him from Tevinter require your signature in order to ratify them.”

Anders glanced at Fenris, then took a seat in the chair opposite Josephine’s at the desk as she handed him a sheaf of papers. He began to glance through them. “These are... treaties?” he asked, surprised.

“Of a sort, yes,” nodded Josephine. “Offers of alliance between the new College of Enchanters and various noble houses of the Imperium.”

“I see,” said Anders slowly. “Couldn’t Arden have signed these?”

“Unfortunately not - the Magisterium already had samples of your signature on file, and if Arden were to sign it might have aroused some suspicions were anyone to compare signatures on various documents.”

Anders sighed as he accepted the quill and ink she offered; he gave Fenris an apologetic look.

Fenris kept his sighs to himself as Anders signed the never ending stack of parchment. He looked around, wanting to go but knowing it would be rude. 

Josephine continued reading the document before her before dashing off her own elaborate signature at the end and affixing a wax seal before she glanced over to Anders, who was hastily scrawling his own signature on pieces of parchment, swiftly scanning each one briefly before the quill scratched his name and then he reached for the next one until all were done; he laid down the quill then shook out his fingers with a grimace.

“Thank you, Grand Enchanter,” Josephine smiled as she rose to her feet and picked out a set of keys. “If you will follow me?”

She led the way in the direction of the great hall; Anders gave Fenris a bewildered look as they moved away from the main guest area and towards the set of stairs that led up towards the Inquisitor’s rooms; she paused on the landing below the final set of stairs and gestured for them to follow her.

Anders’ rooms, it transpired, were almost directly below the Inquisitor’s own suite, overlooking the garden. As Josephine let them in, the blond mage wandered into the large main room and stared around, bewildered. “There’s... there’s been some mistake; this surely can’t be for me!” he protested.

“It is for you, your bed is here, well a replacement I think, but this is yours Anders.” Fenris said from where he’d leaned against the doorframe.

“Your daughter has been given the set of rooms immediately joining, and there is an additional smaller room just off hers where Zevran can stay on such occasions as he prefers not to sleep in the rookery or has reason to be closer to hand,” said Josephine, ignoring Anders’ expression as she sorted out keys and laid them on the large dining table.

Anders wandered towards the large full-length windows and the open door to the balcony. “But... Josephine, this is too much!”

“Nonsense,” she replied briskly. “You are the Grand Enchanter.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Now, if that is all, I must return; I have much to do.”

She swept away in a rustle of silk, leaving Anders to stare at Fenris, dumbfounded. 

Fenris stared at Anders for a moment longer before he approached and pulled him into his arms. “It’s yours Anders, accept that it comes with your station even if you are doing more behind the scenes. Now, why don’t you find Ellowynne and let her see you’re fine. I’m going to my room to rest, it’s been a long day and it’s not even the dinner hour.” 

“I’m sorry, I just... I wasn’t expecting this,” said Anders quietly. “But this means I’m further away from you and -” He broke off and lowered his head. “It’s... no. Don’t worry about me. Go find Hal, make sure he’s alright.”

“Alright, I will. I’ll see you later. Please get some rest as well.” Fenris said before he gave Anders a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Anders replied quietly before giving Fenris a hug. “Let Zevran sleep a while and bring him to me later, love.”

“Of course Anders, I’ll be back later.” the elven warrior took his leave, mind already at work on how he could deal with Invictus that evening. 

Anders watched him go with a small, wistful smile before he turned and made his way to the balcony; he leaned on the stone railing and drew a deep breath before he suddenly realised that Fenris had used his name and not responded at all to Anders calling him “love”. He straightened, eyes widening as he stared out over the garden unseeingly and tried to recall if Fenris had responded at all to Zevran’s use of pet names. Try as he might however, he could not think of one instance since Anders had awoken earlier when he had once heard either _amatus_ or _carissimi_ pass the white-haired elf’s lips.

He had no idea what it meant; he only knew he felt troubled.

He returned inside and lay down upon the bed, but sleep was elusive.

***

Fenris entered his room to find Hal was sitting at his desk, staring out the window rather than resting. “Hal?”

The young mage visibly jumped before turning his head towards Fenris, his eyes a little unfocused. “You startled me,” he said weakly.

“Apologies, I figured speaking was better than touching right now. Have you eaten yet?” Fenris asked as he shut the door and sat on his bed. 

“No,” said Hal quietly. He lowered his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m being a worry to you and a burden.”

“Stop, you are not a burden and I worry because I care for you Hal. Come here, please.” Fenris said as he scooted back to the headboard and patted the bed.

Hal lifted his head slightly to glance at Fenris, then got to his feet and moved to the bed. He stared at it hesitantly before climbing onto it and crawling across to Fenris.

The elven warrior pulled Hal to him and held him close. “Talk to me, what haven’t you told us since _he_ left. You can trust me you know that right? I just want to help you to deal with your loss, the pain of it is still there if your room is anything to go by.” Fenris said quietly.

“I thought I was on top of it,” Hal answered quietly. “On top of... things. Feelings. I just wasn’t prepared for how _empty_ it would feel without him there. Inside. I just....” He waved a hand with an air of frustrated helplessness. “I’m not used to - to any of this. Nothing in my life ever prepared me for even a tenth of what’s happened to me since I was made Tranquil. And for a while, he... he took care of me. Helped me. He was there, he... he brought things out in me, and then - he nearly killed me, and then he was gone and I....” He was crying, wiping ineffectually at his tears as he tried to hold back sobs, his breathing becoming ragged. “I had to keep it together; people _needed_ me. I had to get on with life.”

“Oh Hal, that’s not a good way to deal with things. Do I ever know that.” Fenris said as he pulled the mage closer and held him to his chest. “You can cry with me, scream, yell. I know that pain, of thinking you can’t give yourself time, that everyone else comes first and then you look up and you’re alone with your thoughts and a bottle or worse. Please let me...us help you. We care so much for you, and we’re here if you will give us that last bit of trust to help you through the pain.”

Hal closed his eyes and shuddered. “Pain... yes... that’s part of it,” he murmured. “I ache all over, it never seems to go away.” 

“Has that been the case for long or just recently? Should I get Anders later?” Fenris asked. 

“Just since... since the templars,” Hal replied. “Before that, it was just the emptiness inside. I’d... I’d been beaten by templars before, but never like that. Never as bad as that. I think... I think they would have killed me, Fenris.” There was a bleak, hopeless note to his voice as he rested his head against Fenris’ shoulder.

“You’ve been through so much Hal, and I think we forget your youth. I am glad you are with us still, as are others. I think I would have gone mad with grief if they’d taken you from us for Cullen’s folly.” Fenris’ voice had dropped to a husky growl as he remembered seeing the young mage in his cell. 

“If you hadn’t come... I’m not sure how much longer I would have held out against them,” Hal admitted softly. “I don’t think I could have survived another session at their hands. I think I would have been begging for the brand or the noose.”

“I’m sorry Hal, I seem to be failing at keeping those I care for safe lately. What do you need from me? Do you need rest, to be held, to talk? Whatever it is, within reason I’ll give it to you.” Fenris said as he tipped Hal’s chin up so they were looking at each other.

“I don’t feel I have the right to ask you for anything, after you’ve already done so much for me,” Hal confessed. “It was you who brought me out of the state I was in after Adamant - you who looked after me when I was so ill with the fever afterwards. It was you who brought me back out of the Fade when I was trapped there.” He stared into Fenris’ eyes. “In dreams, I have this feeling - an awareness... I dream of the axe striking me down, and then it’s your arms lifting me, carrying me away. Except I know it wasn’t a dream - was it?” 

“Sadly no, it was no dream unless you mean a nightmare.” Fenris pressed a kiss to Hal’s forehead gently before he leaned back. “You have the right to ask, just understand I have the right to refuse if I don’t think I can provide an answer at that time. I love you Hal, nothing has changed that and I will be here for you, as long as you allow me in your life.” 

Hal curled up a little in Fenris’ arms, drawing his knees up as he rested his head against Fenris’ chest, listening the the elf’s heartbeat. “Can I... can I stay here a while?” he asked in a small voice. “Like this, with you? I - I’m very tired, but... it’s hard to sleep on my own.”

“Of course, let me douse the candles and we can get a bit more comfortable than we are now.” Fenris slid out of bed to douse all but a couple of candles and close the drapes so they could sleep. He stripped out of everything but trousers before sliding into bed and holding Hal to his chest. “Better?’

Hal nodded as he crept back into Fenris’ arms, resting his head upon Fenris’ chest so he could hear the elf’s heart beating once more. His eyes slowly closed as he sank slowly into an exhausted sleep, his body slowly growing limp as he drifted into dreams.

Fenris stared up at the ceiling as he felt Hal sleeping on him. He’d worked out how he would deal with Invictus himself, but having the young mage in his room and currently sound asleep in his arms had thrown a wrench in his plan. He waited until Hal was softly snoring before he tried to get up, but stopped when the mage gripped at him in his sleep. He held still; after a moment, Hal relaxed again, murmuring something incoherent in his sleep before becoming quiet once more.

Fenris cradled Hal carefully in his arms as he slowly rolled onto his side, Hal’s head slipping from the elf’s chest onto a soft pillow. Hal made a sleepy interrogative noise as he stirred, before nuzzling his face into the pillow as Fenris gently stroked his hair until he was certain the young mage were deeply asleep once more. Then carefully, silently, he slipped from the bed and began to dress, glancing often at the still form of the red-head to be certain he yet slept.

Fenris strapped his scabbard on quickly and with one last glance, slipped from the room and headed for the kitchen to begin his plan.

The room was still and silent after he had gone. Hal slept on, oblivious, as the candles burned lower; he was unaware when after a while, the door slowly opened and a figure slipped into the room. The stranger moved on feet that were surprisingly silent for one so large; it paused, staring down at the sleeping young man for some time. Then it bent over him and began to gather Hal up in strong, powerful arms.

Hal stirred, opening his eyes blearily. “Fenris, what -” His eyes widened as he suddenly realised that the person holding him was not the elf. “What -” 

“Hush,” murmured a low voice, and Hal stiffened before opening his mouth to scream.

A large hand pressed a damp, acrid-smelling cloth over his mouth and nose; Hal struggled desperately, but as he drew in an unthinking breath, the sour smell filled his mouth and lungs and he felt dizzy and weak. His struggles slowly ceased and finally the young man went limp in his assailant’s arms.

The stranger bent down and grabbed a blanket from the bed. Wrapping it firmly around the unconscious mage, the stranger threw the young man’s body over one broad shoulder before slipping silently from the dark room.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone makes an unwelcome return.

Fenris strode to Invictus’ rooms with a tray balanced in one hand, and his dagger at the ready in case he was wrong. The guards at the door were surprised to see the elven warrior instead of their own, one even questioning Fenris’ appearance. 

However, no orders had been given stating that the First Enchanter’s own husband could not visit him; after a brief discussion between the two guards, in which there was much nervous side-eyeing of the elf - who was tall even by human standards - they finally nodded and stepped back, allowing him to pass.

“He doesn’t eat much, ser,” one of them warned Fenris. “He’s on magebane - can’t keep a lot down really.”

“I’m aware, the kitchen gave me just enough for him, I thank you for your concern.” Fenris entered the room and set the tray aside. It was dark, and if not for the candle by Invictus’ bed he’d have missed the mage.

He steeled himself for what could be the worst decision he’d made in ages before calling out. “Hawke.” 

There was silence for several long moments, and then there was a slight movement. “Fenris?” The voice was low, weak, shaky. 

“Yes, can you even stand?” asked the elf as he stared at Invictus, his gaze hard as he fought the urge to run to his husband. 

“I can barely even sit up,” Invictus rasped as he slowly rolled over and turned his face towards Fenris. He looked ghastly, dark shadows beneath his eyes like bruises, the unkempt traces of a fledgling beard upon his jaw; his breath smelled rank and unhealthy. He looked sick and feverish, his eyes dull as he gazed at the elf.

“You’ve been poisoning yourself with magebane, and you look near death. Why do this instead of letting someone check you over?” Fenris’ hands opened and closed with wanting to go to Invictus. “Vic...why?” he whispered. 

“Safer this way,” answered the mage hoarsely. 

“Only if you wish to kill yourself with that poison. You’re my heart Vic, how can you make yourself suffer like this?” Fenris repeated as he remained where he was for another heartbeat, before he made up his mind. 

“I wish to see if there is any of the demon left in you. If it’s there, it will struggle, even with you so reduced to this shell. If Danarius still holds you, I...I will have, I will have no choice. Do you understand me?” Fenris asked as he drew his blade.

Invictus stared at the blade, and sighed softly. “I wondered if it would come to this,” he whispered. He glanced up at Fenris. “I want you to know, I’m sorry, love. Sorry for what I’ve put you all through. Before - before you do this... Anders, is he alright? Will he recover?” He blinked at Fenris, his eyes glimmering wetly in the candlelight. “And Zevran... Maker, I tried to kill them both. Please tell me they’ll be alright, no matter what happens now?”

“Physically, Anders is slightly better off than Zevran. I don’t know what will happen if I have to ...take certain measures.” Fenris’ composure cracked as he advanced on Invictus, one hand glowing, the other gripping the hilt of his weapon.

“Forgive me for this, please.” he said as he let his hand slide into Invictus’ chest quickly as he dared.

Invictus threw his head back with a silent scream as his body went rigid, back arching up off the bed as a spasm ran through his body, the heels of his feet digging into the soft mattress and his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Come on, if you’re in there react!” Fenris snarled as he watched Invictus struggle against him.

The mage was struggling to draw breath, his body still arched in a rigid rictus of agony, his body quivering slightly. Though his mouth was still open wide in a scream, the only sound that emerged from his throat was a faint gurgling, choking sound.

Fenris pulled his hand free when nothing happened, no attempt to lash out, nothing but Invictus looking like a landed fish under him. “I’m sorry Vic, I had to know.” he whispered as he gathered the mage in his arms and wept. 

Invictus gasped for breath, panting raggedly, unable even to moan. His eyelids fluttered weakly as he lay limp in Fenris’ arms. He looked near-dead, and this close Fenris could smell stale sweat on the man’s skin. It was long moments before Invictus’ breathing calmed enough for him to groan quietly. Finally Fenris heard him very weakly whisper a plea for water.

“Of course love, of course.” Fenris retrieved the tray, and held up the glass. “Easy, sip slowly.” 

When he could finally speak again, Invictus glanced up at Fenris and tried to grin. “Fuck me that hurts,” he managed.

“Forgive me my heart. I’m so sorry I hurt you again, let me bathe you and get someone in to clean your room. You need something to eat without that damned poison.” Fenris said.

Invictus waved the apology away. “I deserved it for how I hurt you all,” he disagreed. “I might have killed Anders. Maker knows, the last time I used that spell on someone at such close quarters, it was Arden and he nearly _did_ die. And I saw how Zevran was limping.” He swallowed hard. “And I hurt your daughter... bled Anders to do it... Maker, love, how can you forgive me after that? After I let _him_ in?” He had begun to cry, weakly. “I deserve it - the pain, the magebane, all of it. I’m weak, you should have just slit my throat and been done with it; it’s what I deserved.”

“Vic, don’t say such things. I could no more slit your throat than Anders’ or Zevran’s. You’re hurting, and likely starving, dehydrated if you can’t keep a lot down. Come, let me bathe you and get your room cleaned. I’ll inform Cullen that you’re safe now, and we’ll get you back on your feet.” 

Fenris held him up and started for the attached bathing chamber. “You’re my heart Vic, and if I’d had to kill you? I’d have followed behind before you were cold. Much as we’ve been through, I can’t...won’t go on without you.” 

“And if Anders had died by my hand?” asked Invictus quietly. “Or Zevran? Or your daughter?” he closed his eyes in remembrance. “I nearly killed Ellowynne. I could feel it... _he_ wanted to kill her. He wanted to destroy Anders, then you, and I know there would have been others.” He began to weep again. “I could see what he was planning to do, and I couldn’t stop him, Fenris. It was Adamant all over again, except the nightmare was real and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I thought I’d killed Anders. The blood... and he lay so still....”

“Stop...I can barely stand to see you laid so low Vic. Come, let me bathe you and then I will report to Cullen and confess what I’ve done to Anders and Zevran. I might have missed telling them I was doing this.” Fenris said as he started the tub.

“How bad were they? Seriously, Fenris - please. I need to know,” said Invictus quietly. “The look in Anders’ face when last I saw him - he thought I was Danarius. He bared his throat to me and told me to finish it. His throat was scarred, bleeding... _I_ did that to him. And Zevran could barely stand; the Inquisitor had to hold him upright. He was too quiet at the end there.”

Fenris calmed himself as he filled a bucket with warm water, he remained silent as he rinsed Invictus off once, and again before he stopped the tub from overflowing. “Get in and I’ll tell you.” 

Invictus bowed his head and was silent as he nodded. He got to his feet and nearly overbalanced straight into the steaming water, his legs almost too weak to hold him up. Fenris caught him before he could fall and helped him into the water, where Invictus sat, staring at the water, almost afraid to lift his head and look at the elf.

The warrior started to wash Invictus, almost falling silent as he let his mind wander. A gentle call of his name and query about the others brought his attention back. Fenris told Invictus almost everything as he continued to scrub his husband’s back. “I’ve left Hal in my room, asleep. I hope the rest helps him.” 

As he described the full extent of Zevran’s injuries, Invictus had burst out into fresh tears, sobbing quietly to himself, trying to calm himself with only limited success. He was horrified to hear of the catatonic state Anders had been in, and how he had been afterwards; he could read between the lines and see for himself that there was more the elf wasn’t telling him. They hadn’t been together this long without knowing when the other were trying to downplay something or hide it.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked hoarsely.

“Nothing, why do you say that?” Fenris hedged as he rinsed the washcloth and tipped Invictus’ head forward. “Close your eyes, I need to wet your hair.”

“Because I know you too well, love,” Invictus chuckled mirthlessly even as he closed his eyes. “I know when you’re not telling me the whole story. When have we ever been able to hide anything from each other?”

“Let me have this Vic, please.” Fenris asked before he poured half a bucket of water over his husband’s head. Before he could reach for soap, there was a knock on the door before it opened. “Who’s there?”

“Fenris?” The Commander’s voice carried clearly through to the bathroom. “Fenris, what’s going on?”

“Why are you here Commander?” Fenris asked as he let his hands rest on Vic’s shoulders. He glanced into the main room and swore under his breath as Cullen approached.

“The guards informed me that you’d insisted on being admitted to Hawke’s rooms and been here rather longer than is required to bring him a meal,” said Cullen as he appeared in the doorway of the bathing chamber and squinted through the clouds of steam.

“I had business with my husband, and as you can see things are under control. He is no longer possessed and I will submit a formal report to the Inquisitor once Invictus has been given food free of magebane, as well as had his bedding changed out.” Fenris replied, his grip on Invictus steady as he waited to see what Cullen would do. 

Cullen stared at Invictus, his gaze hard. “I see,” he said slowly. “Then I shall look forward to that report. I must insist that Hawke remain in his rooms until after the Inquisitor has read your report and decided what is to be done with him. It’s because of him, after all, that an innocent mage was whipped and... tested.” His hand lifted of its own accord to rub self-consciously at the back of his neck. “You may remain with him if you wish, and he may have visitors, but he is not to set foot outside these rooms on pain of being shifted to quarters less... comfortable.” There was a note of steel in Cullen’s voice; even as Fenris bristled at the former Templar’s tone, Invictus gave a quiet sigh and reached up to grip Fenris’ wrist weakly.

“Leave it, love,” he said quietly. “I can wait until after you’ve spoken to the Inquisitor.”

Fenris glared at Cullen even as he let Invictus grab at him. “As you wish, Commander. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to help him get dressed and I will report to the Inquisitor as ordered.” he sneered.

Cullen nodded stiffly. “See that you do,” was all he said tersely as he turned on his heel and departed.

“He’s lucky he’s still breathing.” Fenris snarled as he stood and offered Vic his arm to get out of the tub.

“Let it go, love,” said Invictus as he climbed slowly out of the water then shivered slightly. “Maker, I feel like nug shit.”

Fenris grunted at his husband as he moved to dry him off. “Come and sit down at the table. The food isn’t laced with poison, I swapped out what they thought was my dinner for yours. I’ll return after I have reported in to Meneris, and hope he doesn’t take my head off.” 

“I think Meneris might be more understanding than you think,” Invictus shrugged. “After all, you’re probably the only person who could test if I were still possessed or not right now. After the way Anders looked at me last time I saw him - well, he may have healed me, but I still can’t forget the look of fear in his eyes when he thought I was still Danarius, and I’m glad it was you and not him.”

“We’ll work on this together my heart. For now, eat up and I will return after I’ve dared his wrath.” Fenris leaned in and kissed Vic on the cheek before gathering up his things.

“I’ll do my best,” replied Invictus as he stared at the food with a queasy expression.

Fenris headed out and up to check on Zevran to see if the elf was awake enough to be helped down to Anders rooms. “Zevran?” 

Zevran still lay as they had left him, lying upon his back across the bed, hands folded upon his bare chest as he slept. As Fenris drew closer however, the Antivan’s eyes opened and he gazed at the canopy of his bed.

“ _Carissimi_ , I knew you by the sound of your footsteps upon the stairs, even before you spoke,” he said softly before a slow smile curved his lips. 

“I’m glad to see you awake again, if you are ready I’ll take you to Anders.” Fenris said as he approached.

Zevran stretched slowly, arching his back with a wince before slowly sitting up. “Yes, I am awake,” he nodded. “Was I asleep long?”

“A few more hours, not long at all.” Fenris grabbed the bag he’d packed earlier and held a hand for Zevran to take. “Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”

“Hmm, a moment,” said Zevran as he frowned slightly. “I think I may need assistance to stand, but then we shall see. There was a pair of crutches I think, though I am not sure what happened to them - I dropped them when I fell.”

Fenris looked around until he spotted them, bringing them over to Zevran before he offered his arm again. 

Zevran had managed to maneuver himself over to the edge of the bed, his injured leg held stiffly out as he braced himself with the sole of his other foot pressed to the floor; with Fenris’ aid he was able to stand, though sweat stood out upon his brow from the effort needed to get to his feet. He took the crutches and glanced to Fenris.

“So,” he said, a little breathless. “Let us try these stairs, eh?”

“Shall I lead in case you need me to catch you?” Fenris said as he slung Zevran’s pack across his back and walked behind the other elf. “I fear you will over balance.”

Zevran paused at the top of the stairs and stared down, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment he nodded.

“Perhaps that would be prudent,” he conceded.

“Alright, hold on tight.” Fenris scooped Zevran up and made his way down the stairs, pausing to make sure he didn’t knock the other elf against a bannister or the door. He set him down gingerly and handed him the crutches. “Try again?”

Beyond a brief noise of surprise - not quite a yelp - Zevran was silent as Fenris carried him downstairs. Once they were at the base of the tower, he got himself balanced upon the crutches, and then they began to make their slow way through the halls. Fenris walked a little ahead, the Antivan following behind. He seemed to get the hang of the crutches fairly swiftly - perhaps too fast; Fenris found himself wondering just how much “resting” the Antivan had actually been doing in his room below. But when Fenris glanced back, the question upon his tongue teasingly, he caught sight of the look of grim determination upon Zevran’s face as the former Crow pushed himself to follow Fenris at as close to his normal walking pace as he could manage, the trickle of sweat upon his brow mute testimony of the strain to keep up and the level of pain he was in.

“Zev, how bad is it? I can carry you the rest of the way if this is too much, and too fast. There is no shame in asking for help.” Fenris offered.

The other elf paused, taking a moment to catch his breath before he glanced up at Fenris; shaking sweat-damp hair back over his shoulder, he shook his head firmly. “No,” he replied. “You must let me master this, _carissimi_ ; Hal told me I might need these crutches for a month or more, and I will not be carried everywhere.” He gave Fenris a quick smile as though to reassure him. “How much farther must we go?”

“Not too far, Anders has been placed under the Inquisitor’s chambers.” Fenris replied warily.

Zevran glanced down the hallway, his eyes gauging its length. Ordinarily he could have walked from here to Anders’ new rooms in perhaps ten minutes; on crutches, it would be closer to twice that or more, all of it hard labour in his current condition. But all he said was, “Lead on then.” 

“If you fall down, I’ll pick you up and carry you myself with no arguing Zevran.” Fenris said before he turned down the hall, at a much slower pace.

“Then I shall endeavour not to fall,” replied Zevran as he followed, pushing himself on.

Fenris slowed his pace to match Zevran’s, never uttering a word of how he struggled but at the ready to catch his stubborn mate.

Zevran made his way steadily on, silent save for the sounds of his breathing as it steadily grew more laboured, pushing himself onwards as he ignored the burn in his good leg, the nauseating ache in the other, and the feeling of his palms slowly blistering as they chafed against the unfamiliar handholds of the crutches. His shoulders began to burn slowly as they finally turned into the great hall; he was still silent however, ignoring the stares of those few stragglers still in the great hall after dinner as they headed towards the doors leading off to one side - until the foot of one crutch came down upon a patch of grease on the floor where something had spilled and not been cleaned up, and the crutch skidded out from beneath him.

Fenris grabbed Zevran around the waist before he could hit the ground. “Alright, it’s time for me to ferry you. Do not argue.” 

Zevran had caught his breath in a shocked gasp as he had fallen; though he said nothing, that was answer enough for Fenris who swung the smaller elf up into his arms. Zevran merely rested his head against Fenris’ shoulder as he fought to catch his breath. Fenris could feel how the Antivan’s heart was racing - whether through the sudden surge of adrenaline at the near-fall or simply due to exertion, Fenris wasn’t sure.

“Fenris?” said a voice, and then Krem was pulling the door open for him. “Need a hand?” 

“Yes, if you could get his crutches and see what it was that made him slip? I’m taking him to Anders’ rooms, a hand with the door would be appreciated.” Fenris said.

“Looks like a spot of grease,” remarked Dalish as she picked up Zevran’s crutches.

“One of the servers dropped a platter earlier - you remember, Krem?” remarked Stitches with a shrug. “You need me to take a look over the Spymaster, Fenris, or will he be alright?”

“C’mon, Stitches - he’s going up to the Healer’s room, you heard the man,” pointed out Krem.

“Simply offering,” shrugged the Chargers’ healer.

“That’s up to Zevran, or you and Anders can look him over if you don’t mind?” Fenris asked.

“I am not hurt,” said Zevran softly. “Merely... tired.”

Dalish was frowning at the wooden handle of one of the crutches; she handed them to Stitches then grabbed Zevran’s wrist and yanked at it, twisting it until it was palm uppermost. “More than tired,” she remarked, glancing at the blistered and bloody skin upon the palm and fingers. “Those crutches need padding.”

“We can ask for that at the infirmary after he’s settled with Anders.” Fenris frowned at his husband’s hands. “Also salve for you.”

Stitches was glaring at the bare wooden handles of the crutches as though they’d personally affronted him. “Maker, they gave you _these_ in the infirmary?” he spat. “You go on and see the Healer - leave these with me.” He turned and walked away, still carrying the crutches. 

Dalish watched him go with an amused grin before exchanging a knowing look with Krem.

“Come on, let’s get the Spymaster upstairs,” shrugged the mercenary captain. “Dalish, go fetch us some grog - he’s made it this far on those toothpicks, the man’s earned himself a drink.”

“Brandy, if the lady would indulge me? For preference,” Zevran interjected, lifting his head to give the elven woman a tired yet still charming smile.

“Indulge you? I might at that,” she replied with a grin.

Fenris gave Dalish a nod and continued on to Anders rooms where he kicked the door until the their husband answered. “I have my hands full of Antivan.”

The door was abruptly yanked open and Anders stared at him, a little wild-eyed and the dishevelled state of his hair suggesting that the blond mage had been startled from sleep. “Fenris?”

“All day, all night. Sorry Zevran fell and I picked him up. He could use some help and Dalish is bringing him a drink. Let us in please?” Fenris asked as he tried to keep Zevran from falling from his grip.

“Maker - yes, of course,” said Anders hastily as he stepped aside and gestured to his bed. He let the door fall closed behind them as he followed Fenris over to the bed. Zevran groaned quietly as Fenris set him down, then lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes until he felt Anders take his wrist gently to inspect the blisters upon his hand.

“I’m going to have a drink myself if you don’t mind.” Fenris said as he searched for a sideboard or liquor cabinet.

“Ah... I’m sorry, I don’t think anyone thought to stock the drinks cabinet,” said Anders as he glanced up, distracted, his hands already glowing with healing magic. The heartfelt groan from Zevran had nothing to do with the state of either his hands or his leg at that news.

“We had best pray that Dalish’s search is successful then,” the Antivan murmured.

“I’ll go get something from my rooms, after I speak with the Inquisitor. I am … due to report in quickly as I can.” Fenris said with a guilty look to his spouses. 

Zevran glanced over at him, one eyebrow quirking upwards. “To report? Upon what, _carissimi_?” he asked, curious.

“On my confirmation that Invictus is no longer possessed by Da..Danarius. I checked myself and he is fine.” Fenris said contritely.

Zevran tried to sit up, startled, even as Anders pushed him firmly back against the pillows, though his expression showed his own surprise as he darted a glance to Fenris before returning his attention to healing Zevran’s hands.

“And how did you do that then?” Anders asked with seeming diffidence, though the faint tremor in his voice gave him away. Fenris had no doubt that if he had laid his hand over Anders’ heart, it would be racing at this moment as Zevran’s had been only a little while ago. 

“I...left Hal asleep and took him dinner, where I checked for possession by phasing my hand into his chest.” Fenris replied.

Anders whirled to stare at him, eyes wide. “You did _what??_ ” he exclaimed loudly. Zevran had sat up sharply as Anders turned and was staring at Fenris, his own eyes a little wide in surprise even as he lifted a hand unthinkingly to rub his own chest unconsciously.

“You heard me, I took matters into my own hands. That way if he were still possessed, the...duty would fall to me.” Fenris said as he stared at both of them.

“You... you promised,” Anders said faintly. “You said you wouldn’t face him alone.” He swallowed hard.

“Anders?” said Zevran softly.

“He said he wouldn’t face Vic alone. Before I -” He turned away from both men slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he slowly paced. “You promised me.”

“I know, but you were catatonic, Zevran has a broken leg and, and Invictus and I had a promise about this well before you were in the picture, either of you. He swore if he were to become possessed during things in Kirkwall that I was to, I was to be the one who…” Fenris trailed off with a sob as he found he couldn’t say the words. 

“Don’t say it,” whispered Anders hoarsely before he pressed a hand over his mouth; his eyes glimmered suspiciously bright in the candlelight that lit the room before he turned away from Fenris.

Zevran sat up and stared at the blond mage with a worried expression. “Dear heart?” he said softly. Anders shook his head wordlessly and held up his other hand in a clear gesture for Zevran to stay where he was.

“If you wish to yell, scream go ahead. I know I broke my word. But I know for certain that Vic is himself again. He was so sickly, still is. I am sorry for breaking my promise, but I had to know.” Fenris said.

“I’m not going to scream,” replied Anders, his voice sounding thick, his back still turned to Fenris.

The door opened without warning and Dalish strode in, a bottle of brandy in one hand and a couple of bottles of wine tucked under her other arm; Krem was just behind her, carrying an assortment of other bottles. Her eyes went straight to Anders and she stopped, the mirth dying as she stared at him before wordlessly holding out the bottle of brandy towards him. After a moment, she finally found her voice.

“Looks like you could use this,” she said quietly.

Anders made a sound that might have been a laugh, though there was little humour in it. 

“If you don’t mind, I will speak with the Inquisitor and return. That is if you wish it, either of you.” Fenris said contritely.

“We’ll leave you gents to it,” said Krem as he set the bottles down on the table near the door. “Come on, Dalish,” he added, tugging at the woman as Anders finally took the brandy bottle from her hands.

Anders turned and walked towards the balcony doors; as he turned, Fenris caught a brief glimpse of the stricken look on the blond mage’s face.

The warrior glanced to Anders then to Zevran. “May I report in and return or do you wish to spend time with him alone?” Fenris asked.

“I think it would be best if you return, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran, his voice low.

“As you wish, I will be swift as I can.” Fenris gave a shallow bow and exited.

He found the door to the Inquisitor’s suit standing open and the guards gesturing to him to go up.

Fenris went up and paused when he heard Meneris and Dorian speaking. “Inquisitor, may I enter?” 

“We’re expecting you, _amicus_ ,” Dorian called back.

“I expected as much.” Fenris entered and stood at attention before them.

“I hear you have a report for us? Also, what was Anders yelling about below us?” Meneris asked cooly. 

“Now, now, _amatus_ ,” Dorian chided gently as he poured a glass of wine then held it out towards Fenris. “I suspect Anders was yelling for the same reason you would, were we in their position, hmm?”

“I suppose so, Ambassador Pavus.” Fenris refused the wine and waited for Meneris to call for his report.

“First stop standing at attention like that, I’m not a damned dictator. Second, take the wine and tell us why you did what you did and what your findings are. Three, we’re your friends, Fenris, stop being like this. You are not in ...too much trouble.” Meneris said as he held the wine out again. 

“Really, _amicus_. Believe me, you are not about to get shouted at,” insisted Dorian. “For a start, I wouldn’t be here if you were - Meneris doesn’t believe in humiliating our people. If he were going to shout at you, the only ones who would know it would be you and him. I might _guess_ he’d shouted, but that would not be the same as my being physically present to witness it.”

Fenris took the wine and a seat in front of Meneris’ desk. His hand trembled slightly as he took a sip. “I...checked First Enchanter Hawke for possession by using my abilities to slide my hand into his chest, aware that if he were still possessed the demon may try to attack. Even with him being dosed with magebane, the demon would have used him to lash out. He is free of possession, Inquisitor. I was informed by the Commander he would remain restricted to his rooms until you’d made a decision.” 

Dorian winced as he drew in his breath sharply, all too aware of the pain Hawke must have experienced - but also the very real risk that Fenris had taken. “Let me guess... Anders’ little outcry was due to you telling him what you’d done?” Though the magister had not been present at the time, Meneris had told him of the circumstances behind Anders’ retreat into catatonia and it was all too easy to work out why Anders had sounded so upset.

“It was that, and I broke my word...again.” Fenris admitted.

“So, we know Invictus is no longer possessed. What else do you have to report, Ambassador Hawke?” Meneris asked quietly.

Dorian poured another glass of wine for himself as he made his way over to the balcony doors; pausing only to take a sip, he casually nudged the doors closed before turning and leaning his back against the glass to regard the two men.

“Nothing else, Inquisitor. If you wish to reprimand me I will take whatever punishment you dish out, ser.” Fenris said with a guilty look to the other elf.

“Would you prefer I leave, Meneris?” asked Dorian quietly.

“No, we will be fine now that Fenris has reported. I need to think on your reprimand. For now, go be with your husbands and I will speak with Invictus before I make a decision. You are dismissed Ambassador.” Meneris said with a wince for how fast Fenris shot out of his office.

Dorian exhaled slowly, then turned and tugged the drapes closed over the long full-length glass windows, obscuring the balcony from view.

“ _Amatus_ , remind me to set a strong silencing charm about the room before we retire to bed,” he murmured before taking up his glass. 

***

Fenris returned to find Anders sitting on the edge of the bed as Zevran slowly ran his hand soothingly up and down his back. Anders was hunched over, his head in his hands.

“Anders?” Fenris asked as he approached them. “Zevran, should I remain?” 

Zevran glanced up. “Ah, _carissimi_ ,” he sighed. “Sometimes the fears of what _might_ have happened can be as terrible as those of what _will_ happen, no?” He sighed as he let his fingers stroke slowly up Anders’ back as the mage shuddered, before he threaded his hand into Anders’ loose and dishevelled hair.

“I have upset him once more, I will leave so he can be in your care.” Fenris said sadly

“No!” choked out Anders as he lifted his head. “Don’t - don’t go. Please.”

“As you wish Anders.” Fenris replied, as he took his weapon off and strpped down to tunic and trousers. “I will remain here.”

“I’m sorry,” Anders said, his voice low. “I just - there are so many ways it could have gone wrong. If he had still been possessed - I could have lost you. Him. Both of you. I... suddenly I just... couldn’t get the images out of my head. Remembering what happened, and then... imagining that.” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t lose you both.”

“I apologize for distressing you, I’ll stay with you for a while if it will help. Then I should wake Hal so he can eat too.” Fenris said as he dared to lean against Anders and rest his head on his husband’s shoulder.

Anders was still for perhaps a span of heartbeats before he turned towards Fenris and drew the elf into his arms, as much seeking comfort as offering it.

“Forgive me for the fears and stress I have put upon you Anders.” Fenris said quietly as he held on to his mage. 

Silently, Zevran wrapped his arms around them both, resting his cheek against Anders’ arm.

“If you all keep carrying on like this, soon my hair will be as white as yours, love,” Anders tried to smile. “What with you, and Invictus, and Zevran - it’s any wonder it isn’t already really.”

“Don’t joke, please. I’m fragile right now, as you are.” Fenris said tiredly. 

“Easy, now,” said Zevran softly as Anders trembled slightly. He trailed his fingers slowly up Anders’ spine. “Your fears did not come to pass. So, it is well, yes? No need to torment yourselves with what-ifs, hmm?”

“As you say, I am sorry for the trouble I have caused. If you will let me, I’ll return after I have checked on Hal, perhaps bring him with me so he’s not alone as well?” Fenris asked. 

“And why not?” said Zevran with a slow smile. “This new bed of Anders’ - it seems a little larger than the old one, no?”

Anders managed a weak smile in spite of himself. “You never change, Zevran,” he mused quietly.

“I should hope not, or I should no longer be Zevran, and that would never do,” shrugged the Antivan.

“Alright, I will go check for him and return swiftly. I will let Pin and Callus know where I am as well.” Fenris said before he headed off. 

Anders lifted his head to watch him go, then turned and frowned at Zevran.

“As for _you_ , Zevran Hawke -”

“Yes, yes, I shall lie down and not risk undoing the very good work which both yourself and Hal have done upon this leg of mine,” laughed the Antivan as he stretched out upon the bed. “As I have told you, if you would but use your healing skills of magic then there would be far less risk of my damaging it whilst it healed and there would be no need for those crutches, no? And then you would also spare my poor hands also!”

“And as _I_ have told _you_ -” began Anders.

“Yes, yes, so you have said - it will heal stronger if left to heal the slow way,” sighed Zevran as he rolled his eyes. “But we would have a much more enjoyable evening if I were not so encumbered and, hmm, _breakable_ , no?”

Anders threw a pillow at him.

***

Fenris opened the door to his room and frowned. The candles had burned down and a blanket was missing from the bed. “What in the Void? Hal? Hal, are you in here? This isn’t funny.” 

As the elf pushed the door open wider, by the light cast from the torches in the hall he could see the room seemed undisturbed. He made his way around the room, lighting fresh candles; it was obvious he were the only one in the room, and a hand to the slight dip in the bed told him it was cold. No-one had lain there for a couple of hours at least; likely longer.

“Where did he go?!” Fenris turned and headed for the infirmary, hopeful Hal would be there if anywhere in the warren-like maze of the Keep.

He found Parcival bent over his desk, writing in a journal; the healer glanced up as the elf entered, then straightened. “Ambassador Hawke?”

“Where is Hal? Has he been in here recently?” Fenris asked. 

“No; not since early this afternoon, when I helped him back to his room,” answered Parcival. “I would not expect to see him back in the infirmary for at least a couple of days; he was in considerable pain and expressed a desire to be left alone to recover in his own room.”

Across the main aisle of the infirmary, a tousled blond head emerged from beneath the blanket on the bed and Arden blinked sleepily at them. “Fenris? Is there something wrong?” he asked, knuckling sleep from his eyes.

“Hal isn’t in my room where I left him. His space was being cleaned and he’s not here. Where can he be?” Fenris asked as he felt dread creep into his heart.

A tousled head of white hair emerged from beneath the blankets next to Arden. “Hal?” murmured Anders’ voice.

“Shh, love, go back to sleep,” murmured Arden. “Fenris, I’m sure it’s nothing - maybe he was restless and went for a walk?” He shrugged. “Maker knows, sometimes I’ve found the cool night air helps soothe my joints more than heat does. Perhaps he finds the same?”

“He was sound asleep when I left, this isn’t like him!” Fenris said before he turned and left for the gates. 

He found them closed, the guards standing around their guard fire looking bored although they straightened up and snapped to attention as he drew closer.

“None are allowed out between sundown and sun-up, serah,” one of the guards warned as he approached.

“Did Enchanter Hal leave earlier?” Fenris asked tersely. 

“No, Ambassador Hawke,” answered one of the other guards. “No-one’s been by saving yourself and Commander Cullen about an hour ago.”

“Thank you, if he’s seen find me immediately, understand?” Fenris demanded.

The men exchanged glances. “Have you tried the Bull’s old rooms, ser?” asked the first guard cautiously.

“No, why would I check there?” Fenris asked.

The men exchanged glances, then suddenly none of them would meet his gaze.

“Ah, just a suggestion, ser,” the man said uncomfortably. “But he’s been seen going in occasionally, since the Bull left.”

“No one thought to tell me, or anyone else this?” Fenris snarled before he turned and headed to the Tavern, mind whirling around where Hal could be.

His entrance went unobserved; the atmosphere was quiet, contemplative almost - it was the end of a long night, and the only people left were tired guards seeking a nightcap before bed, and drunks who had stayed after their friends had already left. A few of the Chargers were gathered in a corner playing cards with a casual air that suggested their minds were more on their beds than their cards at that moment. The barmaid glanced up as he entered.

Fenris went up to Bull’s old room, a scowl on his face as he unsheathed his weapon and nudged at the door. 

The room was cold and dark. In the light from the doorway, he could see dust had settled on the floor and in the marks of footsteps of a single pair of feet that had walked from the door to the window and back, many times. But from the dust that settled in the most recent prints, Fenris could clearly see that whoever had made them had not been there in some time. The room was empty and bare.

Fenris swore and headed back downstairs, unsure if he should ask Krem or the others if Hal had been seen. He’d not spoke of the red head to them since Bull’s exile. He approached them, uneasy with bothering them. “Lieutenant Aclassi, a moment if you can spare it?”

Krem looked up. “Fenris, how many times to I have to tell you? Call me Krem.” But he was grinning as he said it. “‘Sides, it’s Captain now, not Lieutenant.”

“We’re Krem’s Chargers now, are we?” said Dalish, and blew a raspberry, to general laughter that included Krem. 

“Ah, stick it, you lot,” he grinned as he got to his feet and threw down his cards. “Lousy hand anyway.” He nodded to fenris as they moved away from the table. “What’s eating you, Fenris? You’ve got that look about you.”

“Apologies, Captain Aclassi.” Fenris shuffled and looked away from Krem. “I cannot find Hal, and considering the state he was in I am worried he’s not left on his own. He was last in my rooms, but he’s not there, and no one has seen him lately.”

Krem had rolled his eyes as Fenris stubbornly stuck to using his rank and surname, but his expression grew serious as the elf continued. He frowned and folded his arms. “I saw you go upstairs. I could’ve told you Hal hasn’t visited Bull’s old room in nearly a month. He hasn’t been in the tavern tonight - Dalish, Stitches and I were only away from here for an hour tops, and Grim would’ve mentioned it if Hal had been in during that time. You’ll have checked the infirmary first too, I’d guess.” He pondered for a moment. “Where else has he been recently? He wouldn’t go to the dungeons - no reason to, and plenty to avoid ‘em from what I understand. Anywhere else?”

“Other than my room or the infirmary, no. He’s not left the Keep as far as anyone knows. The valley we fly from ...wait.” Fenris frowned as he tried to remember something about the Keep. “Wait, the Undercroft, maybe he’s there? But he has no reason to go there, well none I know of?”

“If it’s the one place you haven’t checked, sounds like the perfect place to start,” Krem shrugged. “You want a hand?” 

“If you don’t mind, I don’t want to take you from your squad, Captain.” Fenris replied as he glanced at the Chargers then back to Krem. 

“Just give me a moment,” nodded Krem. He strode back to the others. 

“Grim, take over; make sure everyone gets back to their billets OK, yeah?” he said as he reached for his sword. Grim grunted and nodded.

“You expecting trouble, Krem?” asked Dalish, eyeing him speculatively.

“Hopefully not but doesn’t do to be unprepared,” shrugged Krem. She threw her cards down and got to her feet.

“Maybe you’d have need for a....” Her eyes drifted to Fenris. “An... _archer_ , yeah?”

Krem eyed her then glanced to Fenris and back. “Yeah, could be an idea. Extra pair of eyes and all that.” He glanced at Fenris. “That OK with you, Fenris?”

The warrior stared at Dalish, then slowly nodded. “As you say,” he said noncommittally as he shifted his weight uneasily on the balls of his feet.

“Ready when you are then,” nodded Krem.

Fenris glanced at Dalish once more before he turned and led them back into the main part of the Keep and into the Undercroft. He found Dagna’s bench as she’d left it before, whatever she was working on laid aside, but no sign of the smith. He approached and nearly tripped over the dwarven enchanter herself in his haste to check out the area. She lay sprawled face down upon the floor, still and unmoving.

“Isn’t that the dwarf enchanter?” said Dalish.

“Void, you’re right,” agreed Krem as they hurried over. Dalish crouched down next to the unconscious woman and rolled her over, then frowned as she leaned over and sniffed deeply. “Krem... you smell that?” she muttered.

“What?” asked the Tevinter mercenary as he hunkered down, then his eyes widened as he caught a whiff of the sour scent. “Maker’s balls, isn’t that -!”

“Yeah,” nodded Dalish grimly. “Best check our supplies.”

“Oi, Fenris, the spymaster use any sort of knock-out drops or liquid or anything?” asked Krem.

“I believe so,” said Fenris slowly. “Why? Dagna - is she breathing?”

“Yeah, she’s alive - just out of it,” shrugged Dalish. “Have a sniff of this though.” She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped it over the unconscious dwarf’s lips, nose and chin then held it up for Fenris to sniff, cautiously. 

A sour, acrid scent assailed his nostrils and he recoiled with an oath. “What is that?” he exclaimed.

“It’s what was used to knock her out,” replied Dalish. “She’ll come around at some point with a splitting headache and puking, I dare say.”

“Does that smell like anything Zevran would use?” asked Krem; Fenris shook his head.

“No, he has several he would use - all of which are odourless,” he replied. Krem and Dalish exchanged another glance. “What?” demanded Fenris.

Krem straightened. “See, thing is, Fenris, this stuff - we recognise the smell. It’s something Stitches brews up for us, but the recipe was taught to him by the Iron Bull - it’s something the Qunari use.”

Fenris started in surprise, and then he snarled in furious anger. “The Bull was here??”

“Or someone nicked some of ours,” Dalish said darkly.

“Think, Fenris,” said Krem, his voice low. “What’re the odds of the Bull being able to sneak into Skyhold - down here to the Undercroft - and not be seen? And what would he want with the Undercroft anyway?”

“There must be something down here,” Fenris growled, turning away and casting his gaze around the workshop. “Something valuable, something he couldn’t get -”

He broke off as his eyes fell on the Eluvian, standing in the corner. He approached it slowly, and suddenly he remembered Meneris telling him of Hal leaping into the Eluvian.

“No, he wouldn’t - would he?” he murmured incredulously to himself. “Hal, why would you have gone back there -”

He halted as he stared at something on the ground near the Eluvian. Someone had knocked a pot of ink off a nearby table, and it had spilled on the floor where someone else had walked through it.

Someone with very large feet, in distinctive boots with a tread that seemed familiar. And that someone had stepped through the Eluvian, and returned back to it.

“Shit,” breathed Krem as he drew level with Fenris and stared down at the footprints. “Dalish. You’d best come look at this.”

“What is it -” She broke off as she drew closer and stared at the inky footprints.

“Go tell the others,” said Krem in a low voice that brooked no argument. “The Boss came back. He’s got Hal.”

Fenris screamed in fury.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is most displeased by Hal's disappearance. Everything seems to be turned on it's head as they search for the young Enchanter.

The door to Anders’ rooms slammed open and there was a loud howl of fury.

Zevran was awake instantly, a throwing knife speeding from his hand towards the source of the sound even as a second appeared in his hand and Anders started awake next to him as the first blade thudded solidly into the hastily-closed door, the mage’s eyes wide in alarm in the low light of the flickering candles. Something by the door ducked down even as Anders sat up, lightning crackling in the palms of his hands as he prepared to blast their dimly-seen assailant until a familiar voice shouted out.

“It’s me - damn it, Zev, it’s _me!_ ”

“Fenris?” said Anders, bewildered; he shook the lightning free from his hands before calling up a globe of magelight that bathed the room in its soft, silvery glow to show the white-haired elf crouched by the door, Zevran’s knife still quivering slightly where it had stuck at about the right point to have hit Fenris’ heart had he moved a little slower.

Zevran let himself fall back against the pillows with a low groan as Anders scrambled out of the bed and hurried towards Fenris, just as the door cracked open and Krem peered in cautiously. 

“You finished chucking your pigstickers around, Zevran?” the mercenary asked, eyeing the dagger with an impressed look. “Oh, nice throw.”

“Yes, yes, I have finished,” said the Antivan tiredly as he gestured for him to come in. Dalish followed Krem into the room, eyeing Zevran’s knife in turn before she plucked it out and tossed it experimentally in her hand, whistling in appreciation for it’s fine balance and feel.

“Mine, I believe,” said Zevran as he sat up again. “I have lost enough knives to Isabela; I do not care to lose any more if you please.”

She grinned and tossed it to him; he caught it easily and tucked it away again, giving her a reproving stare.

“What’s going on, Fenris?” asked Anders as the elf straightened. “Maker, when you burst in like that...!”

“Bull...has been in Skyhold, he’s taken Hal! It’s been hours, I have no idea where he could have taken him, or how he even got in and out with no one seeing him. We have to find Hal, who knows what Bull will do to him if he’s taken him back to the Qunari,” Fenris said as he pulled on his armor. 

He suddenly froze as he felt the unmistakable prickle and sting of magic - a lot of magic, very powerful, being gathered very close by. He knew by the very feel of it that it wasn’t Anders; as he whirled, he could see by Dalish’s wide-eyed stare that she was not the source either, though evidently she, too, could feel it. Even as Anders’ shield spell prickled and tightened across their skins, Dalish was swiftly calling up countermagic to dispel whatever it was, until they heard feet pounding down the stairs from overhead and then Dorian and Meneris appeared in the doorway, the Inquisitor’s sword in his hands and arcane energies wreathed about Dorian’s hands and staff.

“I guess there’s a slight advantage to having you all right over our heads. Can either of you track him with your powers?” Fenris asked as he pulled his scabbard on.

Dorian stared around at the others then let the magic around his hands and staff die away. “That terrifying howl of fury was _you_ , _amicus_?” he exclaimed quietly in disbelief. “I thought we were under attack!”

“I think perhaps you’re a bit late for that, Ambassador,” said Krem with a shrug. “Looks like it already happened.”

“If you can call a one-Qunari invasion an attack,” sniffed Dalish. “Kidnapping would be more accurate.”

“Whatever you want to call it, somehow a damned big Qunari spy got in and out of the Keep without being seen and with Hal as well? It’s an attack and woe unto him when I catch him. He’ll be worse off than missing an eye when I’m done.” Fenris snapped.

“How would he have gotten in? There’s a standing order for me to be alerted should he return. Unless...but he’s not a mage, how could he have used the Eluvian?” Meneris asked. 

“An accomplice within Skyhold?” guessed Anders. “Unless....” He drew a deep breath. “Unless there were more than one Qunari and they had a saarebas with them.” He swallowed hard, looking disgusted and sick. “I’m not sure why they would go for Hal, unless they were seeking a prisoner for information and felt it would be easiest to get what they wanted from him.” He glanced to Zevran. “You would be unlikely to crack, they’d have to be mad to go after Fenris, and I’m not in my old room. Anyone else would be either too heavily guarded or else not highly enough placed to be worth bothering with. But Bull knows how Hal ticks.” He glanced to Fenris and a sympathetic look dawned in his eyes. “And how to break him.”

“I’m going to take him apart, piece by piece.” Fenris hissed. 

“Anders,” said Zevran in a low voice. When Anders glanced at him, the Antivan beckoned him closer. “I am useless like this. You must heal my leg.”

“But - the bone, Zevran -”

“Yes, yes, I know, it will not heal as strongly as it would if we let it heal naturally - but time is not on our side and I must be out of this bed and able to work,” said Zevran firmly.

Anders glanced at the others, then back to the former Crow. “Alright,” he said quietly. “But I’ll need lyrium first, and it won’t be comfortable for you.”

“It cannot be any worse than walking on it,” shrugged Zevran as he lay back down again.

Fenris came over and offered Anders his hand with an easy smile. “Do what you need.”

Anders nodded gratefully as he tugged back the covers to get to Zevran’s leg then sat down on the edge of the bed. He laid one hand on Zevran’s bare ankle whilst with the other he took Fenris’ hand, and then he closed his eyes as he let his own body be the living conduit between the power of Fenris’ direct connection to the Fade and Zevran’s flesh, shaping and changing the magic into healing power as he reached inside Zevran’s body for slowly healing bone and tissue.

Zevran stiffened and drew a shallow breath, then forced himself to slowly relax his muscles, taking slow, deep, deliberate breaths as his eyes focused on the ceiling, willing away the pain and discomfort.

“Thank you, let’s hurry so we can go to the Undercroft and check that damned mirror.” Fenris said.

“I’ll get Cullen on our way.” Meneris added.

There was the sound of raised voices from the hallway. “Ah, sounds like the guards have belatedly realised something’s up,” remarked Dorian drily.

“Inquisitor, your guards are all fools and idiots,” said Zevran, not taking his eyes off the ceiling as Anders worked on his leg. “It is fortunate that the only assassin of worth within a hundred miles of Skyhold is the one who works for you, no?”

“I’ll go speak with them while Anders finishes his work.” Meneris said. 

“I’m working as fast as I can,” Anders said faintly in a distracted voice.

“And believe me, I can feel it,” Zevran assured him, keeping his breathing slow and even by an effort of will.

“I know, I know. I think we’re all on edge.” Fenris replied as he sat down while Anders used his connection to him.

“Come on Dalish,” said Krem as he grabbed the elven woman’s arm and dragged her back towards the doorway, the dalish elf staring at the three men in obvious fascination. “Come on, let’s rouse the rest of the Chargers. The bastards better not all be drunk.”

Dorian darted him a keen glance, dragging his own storm-grey eyes away from the spectacle of Anders healing the Antivan elf. 

Fenris leaned back and closed his eyes as Anders worked, as he tried to calm his mind from all manner of things that could be happening to Hal while they waited.

Meneris returned, aggravated and ready to tear into the next unlucky bastard that tried to get in his way. “The Eluvian is being guarded in case he tries to return.”

“It’s done,” said Anders wearily, releasing Fenris’ hand as he let the magic dissipate before he slumped.

“And timely, too,” replied Zevran as he sat up with alacrity and drew a knife to slice open the bandages down his leg before tossing the splint aside and leaping from the bed. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must retrieve my own armour and send out my little winged spies swiftly.”

“In the meantime, we’ll be in the Undercroft. Send someone to guard Hawke’s room and check mine again. I’ll have his horns for trophies when I’m done.” Fenris said as he rose.

“I shall check your room myself directly I have my armour and weapons; I will trust no other, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran as he headed for the door at a run. “Do not let Anders leave this room!”

Anders lifted his head and glanced around, bewildered. “Zev - what? No, he shouldn’t be running on that leg yet -” He rose to his feet and made to follow.

“You healed him so he could work, what would you do if he has to fight for one of us? You are not well enough to fight Anders, stay here. Dorian, with me please.” Fenris glanced at Dorian then his mage husband, ready to argue with the former warden if need be.

“Anders, sit,” said Dorian, imperiously. Anders stared at him then frowned but sat on the end of the bed, folding his arms as he glared rebelliously at the magister.

“He’s not a dog Pavus, let’s go...please?” Fenris begged.

“Go on amatus, we’ll follow you soon.” Meneris said.

Dorian nodded and he and Fenris headed off at a run in the direction of the Undercroft.

Anders glanced at the Inquisitor, then sighed. “Alright, I’ll stay here until I’m needed,” he said, surrendering as graciously as he could manage on only one hour’s sleep. “Maybe someone could get the kitchen to rustle up something for me to eat and a pot of coffee though, because one bowl of stew is not going to keep me on my feet for very long. And I’m really regretting that glass of brandy.”

“I’ll have that brought up as soon as they can. Do you wish me to wake Arden and the other...you? They could be of some use I wager.” Meneris asked. He could see Anders’ jaw tighten as the mage stiffened slightly, a bleak look in his eyes for a moment before Anders nodded.

“That would probably be a good idea,” he admitted. “And get Pin, too. She may be unskilled at healing, but she can draw all the healing spirits here to aid me, which would be invaluable if my skills are needed. And Maker, but I pray they aren’t.”

“Of course, and Callus will likely want to aid his father. Should I send anyone to remain with you? Do you wish me to send Ellowynne to you before we begin this hunt in earnest?” Meneris asked as he opened the door.

Anders leapt to his feet, a look of shock on his face that rapidly gave way to anger. “No, no no no - Void, _no_ , keep her far away from this madness - Meneris, Andraste’s flaming _fucking arsebadgers_ , man, what were you even _thinking_ to suggest that??” he exclaimed loudly before staring at the Inquisitor, aghast, his chest heaving as he panted.

He closed his eyes, mastering himself with a visible effort, and shook his head as he forced himself to sit down again. “No,” he repeated, but quieter and with forced calm. “If Hal has fallen into the hands of the Qunari, then I don’t want Ellowynne seeing what they’ll have done to him. Keep her far away from here until it’s all over. Fenris will go to pieces and I don’t want her seeing that either. Just... just Pin, Arden and....” His voice dropped. “And my... mirror self,” he finished in a toneless near-whisper.

The elf gave him a wry smile at his candor. “As you wish, I wouldn’t want to go against your wishes as her father. I’ll bring the other you, only if you can stand to see him. I will let Arden know what’s going on and check in with you soon as I can. Thank you Anders.” Meneris left him to his thoughts and worry as he gave a hasty order to a nearby guard, then headed down to the infirmary at a run.

Cullen met him in the great hall and fell into step. “Your orders, Inquisitor?” he asked.

“Search Bull’s old rooms, have the Eluvian guarded every hour. Question guards on watch over the last twenty four hours and whatever Fenris needs to get Hal back, it’s his. Let Warden Commander Howe know we may need his bow and tracking skills alongside our Spymaster’s.” Meneris huffed as he kept a fast pace to the Infirmary.

“By your order,” Cullen nodded as he turned and began shouting orders.

Alarm bells were ringing and the whole Keep was beginning to erupt into alarmed life, orders being shouted as armed soldiers jogged through the halls, securing all parts of the Keep both inside and out. Meneris got to the infirmary to find all the healers had been roused from sleep and were hastily preparing beds, medicines and equipment in case of need; there was no telling if this were the Bull working alone or whether there might be more Qunari at large in the keep; if this were the start of a Qunari attack then things could get very bloody indeed. 

Arden was tying the sash belt of his ceremonial Tevinter robes he’d not yet had a chance to change from since arriving back through the portal from the Minrathous embassy, and the white-haired Anders was staring around himself with frightened, bewildered eyes as he clutched at Arden’s outer robe.

Meneris gave Arden an apologetic look as he approached. “Sorry to wake you from your rest, but there’s been a breach of the Keep.”

“I gathered it must be something like that,” nodded Arden, surprisingly cool and calm until Meneris recalled that in his own world, this man was the former Champion of Kirkwall. “What can I do to assist, Inquisitor?”

“Go to Anders, sit with him and his...other self while we check the Undercroft for signs of our intruder.” Meneris nodded to the shaking, white-haired version of their Grand Enchanter.

Arden nodded. “Of course. I’ll keep them safe until you give the word it’s clear.” He put his arm around Anders and coaxed him up. “Come along, love, we’re going to go play a game, alright?” he said gently as he smiled reassuringly at the frightened man. “Come on, you’ll enjoy it, but you have to be brave for me, alright?”

Anders nodded, his face brightening up a little.

“Good boy,” smiled Arden as he glanced around. “Ah - Sister? Would you show me the way to the Grand Enchanter’s quarters?” He gave the startled Chantry Sister a charming smile as she did a double-take at him before she dimpled at him then led him away.

“Maker, what a mess.” muttered the Inquisitor as he headed down to the Undercroft. He found his husband, Fenris and a couple of guards standing near the darkened mirror. 

“Any luck figuring out how he might have used this thing?” he asked Dorian.

“Regrettably, no,” said Dorian as he turned away from the mirror, shaking etheric energies from his fingers with a grimace. “As best as we can tell, he came through from the other side, and we can only assume he was not alone. Someone must have kept the way open for him. He was evidently feeling merciful however; he didn’t actually kill Dagna, merely rendered her incapacitated. We’ve had her taken to the infirmary.” He grimaced. “Sadly she cannot tell us anything; all she was aware of was someone grabbing her from behind, and then a large hand holding some damp cloth over her face that stank of some reagent that she almost recognised just before she passed out.”

“Fuck… fuck… this is bad.” Fenris said as he stalked around the mirror. He knew he was going to need to calm himself but finding Bull had snatched Hal from his room, a place he’d told the mage he’d be safe, was too much.

They stared at each other in frustration then at the mirror as the guards shuffled their feet self-consciously and tried not to make it too obvious that they were inching very slowly away from the large, angry white-haired elf who swore so loudly and vociferously in Tevene as he glared at the mirror and at anyone who would meet his eye with a look of barely-restrained fury.

“So what now?” asked Dorian quietly into the uncomfortable silence that followed Fenris’ outburst.

“Damned if I know amatus. I think we need to get Fenris something to do or someone to hit before he terrifies those poor guards.” Meneris said quietly. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t any idea what rituals or magics are required to operate an Eluvian normally, much less what the invader must have used,” sighed Dorian. “It was Morrigan who operated the one that brought us back here, after all.” He suddenly frowned, and then his face cleared with a thoughtful expression as he turned back to Meneris. “Pin. Didn’t she somehow manage to get through this Eluvian into the Fade by herself?”

“She did, yes. Hopefully someone will bring her here soon, soon being before her father explodes in a ball of rage.” Meneris said as Fenris passed by them, muttering angrily under his breath.

They watched Fenris pacing like an angry tiger, time seeming to crawl as he raged restlessly, until there was a sound of quiet voices on the stairs leading down to the Undercroft before Zevran appeared, limping slightly as he made his way towards them.

Fenris looked up and glared before he noticed the way Zevran limped. “You are healed, aren’t you? Why are you still limping?” he asked.

“It is nothing,” Zevran shrugged diffidently. “My muscles are merely stiff from lack of use. It will pass within a day or two at most, I am sure.” He gave Fenris a quick smile of reassurance before he turned to Meneris. “There was a message left in Fenris’ room; doubtless from his captor.” He produced a dagger and held it out to the Inquisitor, holding it by the blade.

“I’m not sure what this means Zevran, explain?” Meneris said as he took the weapon in hand an looked it over.

Zevran grimaced slightly. “All will become clear presently,” he said quietly. He drew one of his own knives, and before anyone could react he slashed open the palm of his hand with a shallow cut before laying his bleeding palm against the flat of the knife’s blade then drawing it back towards the tip, smearing his blood across the silver metal.

As they exclaimed in shock and Fenris grabbed Zevran’s wrist, jerking it away from the blade, Meneris saw dark letters start to form in Qunlat upon the bright steel.

Fenris looked over the blade, taking time to sound out the words before his brands lit and he swore another blue streak. “I’m going to kill that Ben-Hassrath bastard, he will pay for this, we need to get to inform the Empress of this and ..and...I don’t know what we’ll tell her.” he tapered off.

Dorian and the others were staring at him mystified - all except Zevran, who wore a grim expression.

“But - what does it say?” asked Dorian.

“Merely two words,” said Zevran quietly. “‘Winter Palace’.”

***  
Fenris led the way back to Anders’ rooms, well ahead of the others. He was in such a snit, Dorian had to shout for him to slow down and wait for them. 

As Fenris glanced back, impatient, Dorian shook his head and bit his tongue against the scathing comment on the tip of it as he glanced pointedly at Zevran who was still limping but was waving off any and all attempts to assist him. The Tevinter magister sighed then glared at Fenris.

The warrior slowed down and waited for them, irritated at himself for not thinking of his husband. “Apologies...do you wish me to help Zevran?” Fenris asked.

The Antivan shook his head. He had wrapped a clean handkerchief proffered by one of the guards around his cut palm; he had been remarkably silent since translating the words on the blade for the benefit of the others who had had no idea what the words meant. 

Fenris waited until his husband had caught up before he took his hand in his. “Zevran, you’re no blood mage. How did you know to reveal the words on the blade?” he asked quietly.

“I have seen such a blade before,” shrugged the Antivan quietly. “I was made aware of its... _unique_ qualities rather intimately, _carissimi_.”

Fenris frowned at the Antivan’s words before he gently turned his hand over and kissed the back of it. “I’m sorry you ever knew such things, in such ways.” he said. 

Zevran chuckled. “The blade concerned was not intended as a message for me; I was... hmm, part of the message, in a manner of speaking.” He shrugged. “I kept the blade afterwards as a momento. I am not sure how such things are made, only how to read them. I recognised the binding upon the hilt and the design of the blade, which is how I knew how to bring out its message.” He shrugged. “Be glad that Bull chose not to deliver it in the more traditional way.”

Fenris merely scowled at that before he dropped Zevran’s hand. “Come along, we need to consult with the others.” 

“You will have to be patient with me, _carissimi_ ,” replied Zevran. “I had not realised how stiff I would be still.” He sighed. “Go on ahead, I shall follow as fast as I can.”

“No, I won’t leave you because I am irritated. I apologize for my anger, it is not at you, either of you.” Fenris said with a guilty glance at Dorian.

“Glad to hear it. _amicus_ ,” replied the Tevinter mage. “Believe me when I say we all share your frustration right now. I would not want to be in the Bull’s shoes when Meneris catches up to him; he has struck right at the very heart of the Inquisition.”

“He needs to be more concerned with me, and maybe if I leave anything, Meneris can have what’s left.” Fenris said as he wrapped an arm around Zevran’s waist. 

They reached the stairs leading up to Anders’ rooms and those of the Inquisitor above. They could hear low voices as they approached Anders’ door; they found Pin and Callus had arrived, as had Arden and the white-haired Anders. The blond Grand Enchanter was sitting in a chair near the balcony doors, his head resting in one hand as the white-haired Anders sat near his feet, glancing up at him as he tugged on the tired mage’s sleeve, trying to attract his attention.

Fenris helped Zevran to a chair before he approached his children. “I’m glad to see you.” he said, especially grateful that Pin seemed to be doing well after her jaunt through the mirror.

“You as well, and nice to see you sobered up father.” Callus said with a challenging stare at his sire.

“Drop it Cal, there’s worse to deal with right now.” Fenris glared at his son, irritated that he wouldn’t let his moment of despair go. 

“I’m fine,” Pin shrugged, then leaned in closer to her father. “I don’t think Master Anders is though. He’s been feeling dizzy and looking queasy ever since Enchanter Arden arrived with... with the other Anders,” she confided in a low voice.

“Considering the state of the other him, can you blame him?” Fenris replied quietly. He brushed a kiss to her forehead before leaning back. 

Meneris entered with a couple servants behind him bearing food and tea for everyone. “Well, I can’t think well on an empty stomach and I know most of us are bad about eating when stressed so let’s sit and figure out a plan.” he got a mug of tea and sandwich before he took a seat near Dorian.

Anders suddenly lurched to his feet. “Excuse me, I need - I need some air,” he gasped out as he turned and fumbled with the balcony door before stumbling out into the night air; the white-haired Anders watched him with a bewildered look.

Fenris went out to his husband and held him loosely around the waist. “Anders?”

“Too many people,” murmured Anders as he closed his eyes. “And... and _him_. It’s like I can’t breathe.”

“Do you want him to go? I can ask the others to leave, meet in the Inquisitors rooms instead?” Fenris said as he rubbed slow circles along Anders’ back.

“He wouldn’t understand,” shrugged Anders. “I just need air, to stand here for a little while. I’m just tired and it all feels a little too much right now.” He sighed. “Just give me a little while to pull myself back together.”

“Alright, call for me if you need me. I think I need something to drink, if not eat. I’m not doing too well myself.” Fenris pressed a kiss to Anders’ cheek before returning to the others.

As he returned to the warmth of the room, the white-haired Anders glanced up at him with a solemn expression. “Anders unwell,” he said softly.

“Yes, he just needed some fresh air. He will be well soon, Anders.” Fenris replied as he passed the other warden. He poured himself a mug of tea and sat on the bed with a sigh. 

Meneris brushed his hand against Dorian’s as he spoke, for reassurance. “So it seems the Eluvian in the Undercroft is how Bull got in and out. Question is how did he manage to do so without being seen and how did he manage to get back through it. Did you have other thoughts amatus?” 

“Beyond those I’ve already shared? Sadly, no,” replied Dorian, with a small _moue_ of distaste for the admission. “All I can surmise is that evidently there are far more functional Eluvians in the world than we’d thought. And perhaps we should have shut the damnable thing up in one of the dungeon cells.”

“I want to go in and find Bull, so I can tear him to shreds with my bare hands.” Fenris chimed in.

“Well, do you know where to even look for him assuming we can get the thing to activate?” Meneris replied. “I know you’re upset but haring off on a wild chase will do more harm than good.”

“Activate it?” echoed Pin. “I don’t follow. You don’t need to do anything to activate it - you just touch it and push through.”

“You’re a mage, papa and I aren’t Pin. We can’t just touch it to make it work. But the Inquisitor is right, we have no idea where to start or where in the Void that thing will drop us if we do go in. You’re lucky you were found in time, let’s not do that again.”

She glanced over at the white-haired Anders who was now stretched out on his stomach, trying to tempt a ginger tabby cat out from beneath Anders’ bed. “But I’m not the only mage here,” she pointed out as she glanced up at the others. “Surely one of you must be able to make it work?”

“Not I,” replied Dorian. “Morrigan didn’t see fit to explain the ritual needed to open it to me.”

“It doesn’t need a ritual,” said Arden, finally stirring as he straightened from where he’d been leaning against the table, arms folded, keeping half an eye on his Anders. “Or at least, no Eluvian I’ve ever passed through did. And I’ve been through a few in my time.”

Dorian frowned. “Morrigan led us to believe it did,” he said slowly.

“Yes, well, Morrigan _would_ ,” replied Anders as he returned inside. He glanced at the other Anders for a moment before dragging his gaze back to Dorian. “But Arden’s right. When I went through into his world, there was no ritual. Sandal had given him a pebble that seemed to work - and I basically rode through on his coat tails. When Arden sent me back, it was using the Eluvian in the Black Emporium in his Kirkwall; it lit up when he touched it, and the only magic needed was to close it behind me - though that may have been because it dropped me back through a normal mirror rather than an Eluvian.”

“ _Venhedis_ \- you mean it’s possible to travel through an Eluvian to a normal mirror?” exclaimed Dorian excitedly.

“One way only,” replied Arden. “You can step out of an ordinary mirror but not pass back through. And I’m not entirely sure that it’s even supposed to work that much - but then they weren’t exactly normal circumstances.” 

“How do we even begin to track them?” Fenris said as he gazed down at the other Anders trying to coax the cat out. “She’ll come out if you meow at her.” he said quietly.

“He,” said the white-haired Anders, without looking around. “It’s a he.” His eyes were fixed on the cat, which sat with its tail wrapped around its paws just out of arm’s reach.

“Apologies.” Fenris glanced at his Anders then back to the white haired version trying to coax the cat out still. “He likes toys too, but there might be too many people for him to want to come out and play.” 

Meneris glanced out the balcony doors then back to Zevran. “So, do you think have a way to look into where he could be or have taken Hal? Should we reach out to our new Tevinter allies as well?” 

“I’m not sure we should trust them quite that far,” replied Arden. “Not just yet, anyway.”

“No, indeed,” shrugged Zevran as he stretched out upon the bed with a faint grimace. “At present, I have no way of tracking anyone through the Fade - even supposing we have a way of opening the Eluvian to us.”

Fenris sat up with a thought. “This may sound rather mad, but if I changed, do you think I could track Hal in some way? I …” he fell silent when the others turned to him. “It was just an idea.”

“We didn’t say it was a _bad_ one, _amicus_ ,” said Dorian gently.

“I’m desperate.” Fenris replied. 

“We’ll do our best to get him back, let’s not discount your idea. I just don’t know how it would work is all.” Meneris added. 

“We can ask the spirit,” announced the white-haired Anders from somewhere under the bed.

“I’m sorry, what?” Fenris asked.

The white-haired mage was slowly backing out from beneath the bed carefully, one hand cradling the ginger cat to his chest. He sat up, cuddling the cat with a triumphant grin. He glanced up and looked at Pin. “Ask her, she knows,” he replied before he glanced back at the cat and cooed softly to it.

Fenris looked to his daughter expectantly. “I’m sorry, what is he talking about? What spirit that you know of?” 

Her eyes widened as she glanced from her father, to the white-haired man, then back. 

“The one in the mirror,” said the white-haired mage as he stroked the cat.

“Demon,” she replied tersely. “It was a demon.”

“Justice doesn’t like it when you call him that,” the white-haired man said softly, a note of sadness in his voice.

“What?” said the blond Anders as he stared at his mirror self; his voice was strained. “ _What_ did you just say?”

“Justice,” repeated the other man, and shrugged. “He doesn’t like being called a demon.”

Anders dropped into his chair with a stunned look.

“Justice is gone, he’s… gone Anders.” Fenris said shakily.

“Maybe not in his world?” Meneris asked.

Callus looked to his sister curiously. “Either way Pin, do you have a way of calling it?” 

She swallowed hard. “It... it called itself Justice,” she said quietly.

“Spirit,” said the white-haired man firmly. “Not a demon.”

“That’s... that’s what it told me too,” she said faintly.

“It spoke to you?” said Dorian with a frown. “More than once?”

“Yes, it... it wanted....” Her eyes flicked from the white-haired man to his blond counterpart. “It said it had something belonging to Anders.”

The blond mage closed his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

Fenris got up and went to his daughter, worried and curious about the creature that had spoken to her. “Is that what frightened you into hiding?”

She nodded. “I could see and hear it, even before I went into the mirror. I was trying to get away from it, and then I thought maybe I could just... keep it away from him. If it wanted Master Anders, I just had to stay as far away from him as possible, because for some reason it needed my help. So I wouldn’t help, but I wouldn’t go where it wanted me to go either.”

“Why did it want Anders? And which one?” asked Dorian.

“I’d assumed it meant Master Anders,” she replied. “But then I realised it meant him.” She gestured to the white-haired man. “And I realised it had to have been the demon I’d heard father speak of, that had possessed him - and it didn’t seem right or fair to let it get its claws in him again.”

“What did it want with Anders?” Fenris asked as he stared at her.

“I wonder...no that’s too far fetched even for this situation.” Meneris trailed off. Dorian glanced at him.

“Go on, love,” he prompted. “You had some thought?”

“What if, somehow this spirit had what was left of that Anders’ mind in it and wanted to ...return it I guess? But that’s too wild even for me.” Meneris finished.

Anders opened his eyes and stared at the Inquisitor, then glanced down at his white-haired counterpart.

“But... wait, I’m not sure that makes any sense,” said Arden. “When your Anders had his spirit ripped out of him, he didn’t lose his mind.”

“It wasn’t ripped out of me,” replied Anders quietly. “Technically, I had died. I’d still be dead if you and he hadn’t worked to bring me back. Justice wasn’t ripped from me; he was set free when my heart stopped beating for those few seconds, and then _his_ Justice absorbed him. My mind remained my own.”

“No...you didn’t die, you just were unconscious. You weren’t dead, don’t say that. You wouldn’t be here if you were dead.” Fenris said. 

Anders gave him a sad smile, and suddenly Fenris knew Anders was speaking the truth as he knew it - he _had_ died, albeit briefly. A glance to Arden only confirmed it.

“His heart had stopped,” Arden nodded. “We nearly didn’t get him back.”

“I really was dead, Fenris,” said Anders, still smiling sadly. “Thankfully not a permanent state of being.” He stared down at his counterpart. “But this Anders... for some reason, though he....” 

He broke off, remembering the white-haired man’s reactions thus far to the mention of his death, and decided not to risk setting him off again. He wasn’t sure just why he’d been affected himself so badly on the last occasion, when he’d seemed to empathise on a physical level to the other man’s remembrance of the experience of death, but he was loathe to go through that again. 

“Ah, didn’t survive Kirkwall... his spirit - which had been corrupted into Vengeance - refused to let go of him and in fact somehow brought him back. I think that when Vengeance faced off against the demonic spirit of Danarius, it wrenched itself out of him, ripping away most of his memories and mine, and leaving what remained of his personality severely traumatised - and it’s only slowly coming back.”

Though his eyes were on the white-haired Anders, he was aware of Fenris’ eyes on him, and he felt uneasy and a little off-kilter. From the elf’s stance and the way he shifted restlessly - a thousand small tells that Anders had slowly learned over years with the elf - he knew Fenris was deeply unhappy and filled with an anxious, nervous energy. He kept his gaze lowered and swallowed hard. Suddenly it felt like there were too many people in the room, and he felt claustrophobic and anxious himself.

Fenris glanced at him before he went out to the balcony to calm himself. The last week had been a trial of his limited patience, and the last thing he needed was to make it worse. He stared at the mountains, suddenly wishing to be flying over them.

Anders sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was tired, and suddenly he wished for nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep. But there were so many people that the quarters which had seemed so large and spacious now seemed too small and confining, and he felt trapped.

Callus noted how Anders looked tired, and his father didn’t seem any better. “Perhaps, we should call it a night for now? Nothing is coming to us and I think we could use a break.” said the younger elf.

Pin glanced to the bed. “Spymaster Zevran is asleep already,” she observed. As they glanced to the bed, they saw she was right; Zevran had been very quiet as the others talked, and at some point he appeared to have passed out. He lay sprawled upon the bed, one hand resting upon his chest , the other half-curled upon the pillow beside his head, his pale gold hair fanned out across the pillow.

“That... is unlike Zevran,” said Anders quietly. “I’ve never known him to be able to fall asleep in a room lit like this, with so many people. Maker, he must be even more exhausted than he was letting on.” He kept to himself that he was feeling much the same way. Somehow though, he suspected he wouldn’t be able to sleep with everyone here in the same way. In particular he was all too aware of how keyed up Fenris was, and that in turn had him feeling on edge.

“My Anders looks close to sleep as well,” remarked Arden. “I should take him with me back to my room.” He smiled sadly at the white-haired man, who still cradled the cat in his arms with a sleepy smile.

“Pounce,” the mirror Anders said softly. “Good Pounce.”

“I think we should take our leave as well, and perhaps meet in the war room tomorrow after breakfast? If anyone hears of Hal, or Bull find me immediately. Rest up, I have a feeling tomorrow will be a long day.” Meneris took Dorian’s hand as he bid them a good night.

“Goodnight, Inquisitor, Dorian,” nodded Arden. “Come along, Anders.”

The mirror Anders lifted his head. “Can Pounce come?”

Arden glanced to the other Anders, who gave the cat a sad smile. “Let him take the cat,” he murmured quietly. “I think he needs him even more than I do.”

“Alright - yes, Anders, the cat can come too,” nodded Arden. He glanced around and gave the others a half-bow of farewell before he and the white-haired Anders took their leave also, together with the cat.

Pin went to Fenris. “Father, should Callus and I leave also?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll walk you both to your rooms, if you don’t mind?” Fenris said quietly.

She glanced to her brother, who inclined his head in agreement.

“Fenris,” said Anders quietly. “Will you - are you going to stay here tonight? With - with me, us?” He was hesitant, not quite lifting his head to look directly at Fenris.

“It would ease my mind to do so, I am...I do not wish to sleep in my rooms after they have proven to be unsafe. I’ll return after I’ve walked them to their rooms.” Fenris replied.

Anders finally lifted his head to give Fenris a small smile. “Thank you love,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome, see you in a bit.” the warrior let his children go first and shut the door softly. He was quiet as they walked, though he was surprised at Pin taking his hand. 

“You’re too quiet, what is bothering you? Aside from the obvious?” Callus asked.

“It’s Master Anders,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Something’s wrong. There were a lot of healing spirits clustered around him - almost as many as there are when he’s healing someone - and they were very worried for him. I think they were picking up on something and... for Master Anders to be that anxious....” She glanced up at her father. “I’m right, aren't I? You... you could tell, couldn’t you, Father?” she asked.

“He’s been poisoned, sick, and stressed for a while.He nearly died Pin, of course these healing spirits are going to hover near him. He’s a Spirit Healer, they are drawn to him regardless of his health, but this week has been difficult.” Fenris replied.

“He looked fit to collapse when we left, it got worse when you went out for air.” Callus added.

“Something happened when that other Anders came in the room. It was like... all the energy drained out of him,” said Pin slowly. “And the other Anders seemed... I don’t know, to... sort of perk up a little around him?” She glanced to Callus for confirmation he’d seen it too, then glanced at Fenris. “I think we should keep them apart, Father.”

“I’m sure Anders, my Anders would appreciate that.” Fenris replied as they rounded the bend and got to Callus’ room. 

“Sleep well both of you, if you need me Pin come in alright?” Callus said with a look to his father. “Are you alright pater?”

“Not really, but nothing to be done about it. Get some rest Cal.” Fenris waved him off before escorting Pin next door. 

Pin paused in the doorway of her room and glanced at her father. “Hal will be alright - won’t, Father?” she asked in a small voice. “The Qunari - they won’t... they don’t torture their captives, do they? They just try to convert them - but he’ll be alright, won’t he? Until we can find and rescue him?”

“I hope so, Bull feels, felt affection for him so I hope it means he will not hurt him. Go to sleep, think of better things my sweet girl. I’ll see you for breakfast if you like?” Fenris tried to give her a reassuring smile as he brushed an errant curl from her eyes.

“Alright, Father. Goodnight,” she replied, with a shy yet fond smile.

“Goodnight Pin.” Fenris pulled the door closed and headed back to Anders’ rooms slowly, his mind turning over all the things that could be happening to Hal. He tried to pull away from those thoughts as he returned to his spouses.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time waits for no one, also let sleeping Antivan's alone

“Hey, he’s still sleeping?” Fenris asked as he returned to Anders’ room and found Zevran still out for the count. He frowned as he started to get out of his armor. 

Anders nodded slowly. He was still slumped in the chair he’d been in when Fenris left; he was leaning on one of the arm rests, his head resting on his hand, his dishevelled dark blond hair hiding his face.

“Do you need help getting to the bed?” Fenris asked quietly. 

Anders lifted his head wearily and stared dazedly at Fenris for a moment, then nodded. “Please,” he said quietly, his voice colourless.

The warrior helped Anders to bed, cautious as he got the mage under covers before he debated trying to crawl over Zevran or moving him over. “He _would_ pass out on the edge of the bed.”

“Climb over me,” suggested Anders, sounding half asleep already. “I’m not going to try and gut you whilst not fully awake, after all.” He gave Fenris a drowsy grin.

“Alright, let me double check that everything is locked and I’ll join you.” Fenris checked every door and window, even the balcony doors before pulling the heavy drapes closed and crawling in bed. He was exhausted but couldn’t get his mind to settle enough for rest. 

Anders turned and snuggled into the pillow, curled up against Fenris’ side. He gestured absently and extinguished most of the candles with a thin tendril of magic - all save the two candles closest to his side of the bed; then he curled his arms up to his chest and nuzzled his face against Fenris’ shoulder with a faint sigh, more than half asleep already.

The elf turned and pulled Anders closer to him, closed his eyes but found sleep still eluded him. Eventually he dozed off, but didn’t fall into a deep sleep as he needed. 

He was jarred abruptly out of sleep as Anders suddenly jerked in his arms, his legs straightening as his back arched and he let out a loud gasp. A tremor ran through his body and then he screamed. He tried to wrench himself free of Fenris’ arms then jerked almost convulsively and screamed again, shaking his head, eyes still closed tight.

Fenris’ eyes opened as he felt Anders stretch and pull away. “Wake up, wake up…you’re safe with us.” he said as he tried to get the mage to relax. He could feel Zevran jerk awake next to him and sit up in alarm.

“Anders?” said the Antivan, his voice thick with sleep. “What ails him?”

Anders’ screams had abated, to be replaced by heartbreaking whimpers and faint incoherent pleas as he hugged himself and tried to roll away from Fenris, half-curling in upon himself. “No,” he gasped audibly. “Please, don’t - not - not that, don’t -”

“He’s in the throes of a nightmare, he won’t wake up.” Fenris tried to keep Anders on his back so he would open his eyes and see one of them. “Come back to us, please.” 

“Let me go, please, let me go,” begged Anders, eyes drifting half-open as his body relaxed and he stopped fighting against Fenris. “Don’t... don’t hurt them....”

The Tevinter elf released him and sat back. “I’m not going to hurt you, please wake up.” he begged. 

Anders went still and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, bewildered and disoriented. “Where... what... Fenris?” he said, his voice slurring a little and hoarse.

“We are both here, dear one,” said Zevran gently. “You are safe. No-one will hurt you.”

Anders blinked, and then rolled over towards Fenris. “Oh Maker. It was a dream. It was just a dream,” he said shakily, and gave a choked sob.

“Yeah, just a bad dream.” Fenris said as he reached over for his human husband. “Want to get up or try to sleep some more? I’ll get you a potion if you need it.” he offered. 

“I don’t know,” said Anders as he sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Maybe the sleeping draught. Maker, I’m so tired.” He dropped his head into his hands.

“Alright, give me a moment.” Fenris made his way to the cabinet and got two sleeping draughts out. He handed Anders one and motioned for Zevran to get in the middle. “I want to be on the edge in case I can’t sleep and want to get up. I’d rather not have to use this if I can help it.” 

Zevran shifted over; a brief flicker of pain crossed his face - barely a wince; Fenris could almost have though he imagined it, it was gone so swiftly as the Antivan settled himself. Anders was downing his dose of the sleeping draught; barely had he lowered the empty vial than he swayed, eyes closing before he fell back onto the bed, senseless.

Fenris got up, and returned with a healing potion which he held out to Zevran with a scowl. “Don’t argue with me, take it.” 

Zevran stared at him with an unreadable expression before he wordlessly took the potion and steadily downed it with a faint grimace for the overly-sweet and yet somehow bitter aftertaste. He handed Fenris back the empty bottle before laying down once more, slipping an arm around Anders’ shoulders to gently cradle the unconscious mage to his side.

Once Zevran was settled, he stretched out on his stomach and tried to find sleep. He’d left the potion bottle on the side table instead of downing it. Fenris tried to find a way to lay that didn’t keep him from nearly drifting off before he awoke again. 

He spent the remainder of the night like that, drifting in and out of a shallow sleep, shifting restlessly every time he awakened before dropping off again but never deep enough or for long enough. The first light of dawn began to filter through chinks in the curtains all too soon, even as Anders and Zevran slumbered on next to him, both men dead to the world. As Fenris sat up, resigning himself to get no further sleep this night, he glanced at Anders and couldn’t help but think of what Anders had said - that for a brief time whilst in Arden’s world, he had been dead. The images that filled his mind disquietingly were interspersed with remembrance of Anders sprawled in that pool of his own blood, bleeding from his eyes and nose, lip bruised and bleeding where he’d bitten it as Invictus’ Fist of the Maker spell had crushed him. Under the influence of the sleeping draught, Anders’ chest barely stirred with each breath, and he looked dead and lifeless.

He couldn’t help himself, he stretched out to ensure himself that his husband was indeed still on the right side of the Veil, and found himself with a knife at his throat and one that had slid between his ribs as he’d moved over the other elf. “Zevran...it’s me.” he said, well aware of the fine blade against him and far too close to his heart for his comfort.

The elf stared through him with a blank gaze; as Fenris’ blood trickled over the hilt of the blade and Zevran’s fingers, he was jerked back to full consciousness, dawning realisation suddenly filling his eyes with a look of horror and remorse as he jerked back, the blade in Fenris’ side suddenly sliding free as the Antivan pulled his hands back and then hurriedly hurled the blades away from him, across the room. He stared down at the blood upon his hand in dismay and then the spreading stain upon Fenris’ nightshirt before finally lifting his eyes to meet Fenris’ pained gaze.

“Carissimi!” His voice was a horrified whisper. “What have I done? Maker strike me dead, what have I _done??_ ”

The Tevinter elf pressed a hand across the wound and carefully laid back. “Healing potion, please.” he mumbled.

“Yes, yes of course!” Zevran agreed as he managed to climb over Anders, hissing as his stiff leg twinged but pushing through the pain as he got to his feet and limped swiftly the the potions box to grab a couple of healing potions and a healing kit. He brought them back to the bed.

“Here, _carissimi_ \- drink these, and lift your shirt so that I might bandage your wound.”

As Fenris hitched up his shirt to show the gash in his side, Zevran bit off a curse. As Fenris downed the potions, the Antivan elf set to work, applying a poultice before winding lengths of soft white linen about Fenris’ waist.

“ _Carissimi_ , forgive me,” begged Zevran when he had finished, dropping to his knees beside the bed, his ears drooping a little in dejection. “I swore I would never hold a blade to your throat again so long as I should live - but I have broken my oath and wounded you.”

“I crawled over you, forgetting how fast your reactions are even when coming out of a dead sleep. I’ll be alright, I think. Maybe now I’ll actually sleep.” Fenris laughed before he winced in pain. 

Zevran’s face still held the mortified look it had worn since he scrambled over Anders to get out of bed to fetch the potions. “I have hurt and wounded you, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Nothing worse than what I’ve suffered on the field. I stabbed you once, we’re even now.” Fenris muttered as his eyes closed and he tried to hide how much he hurt.

Zevran slumped against the side of the bed. “It should not have happened,” he murmured, lowering his head.

“It’s ok, I’m the stupid one for not remembering you’re dangerous even when dead asleep. Hurts...gonna try to sleep now.” Fenris said quietly before his head lolled to the side and finally slept.

Zevran rested his head upon the bed and closed his eyes, soon passing back into exhausted sleep where he sat, slumped against the bed. Fenris found him like that several hours later, the sun much higher in the sky and the room warm and stuffy as the sun beat upon the curtains through the thick hand-blown panes of glass in the windows and balcony doors.

“Zevran, get up you’ll get a cramp in your leg, if nowhere else.” the Tevinter elf said as he got to his feet. “Getting stabbed is not how I wanted to finally sleep.” 

Zevran stirred slowly and then groaned as he stiffly uncurled. He lifted his head and glanced around. “Once, I could sleep anywhere - I slept in the rafters of your room, _carissimi_ , you remember? The Chantry also. But I fear perhaps I have grown too soft.”

“You can only take so much abuse before your body tells you to slow down, believe me I know.” Fenris replied. He offered the other elf a hand to get up, but regretted it as soon as Zevran took it.

Zevran saw the look of pain in Fenris’ eyes and instantly let go of his hand. “ _Carissimi_ , no. You are hurt. Go, sit down; I can stay here until Anders awakens or someone comes to see why we have not come for breakfast,” he assured the other elf.

“Get up, it can’t have helped your leg at all to be on cold stones all night. It’s a moment of discomfort, I’ve had worse.” Fenris said, but his reply was cut off by a loud knock.

“Perhaps someone was sent with a tray?” he said as he approached the door quietly. “Identify yourself.”

“Father, it’s us - Pin and Callus,” came the sound of his daughter’s voice, muffled by the heavy oaken door.

He let them in, glad they had come up to see them. “Sorry, I overslept...had a rough night.” Fenris said as he tried to hide his injury.

“Father, I don’t want to hear about that!” Callus said before he caught sight of Zevran on the floor and the careful way Fenris held himself. 

Pin was staring at Anders aghast; she stood mute for a moment, then flew across the room to the side of his bed to lean over him. “Master Anders? Oh please, don’t be dead!” she whimpered as her hands hovered over him for a moment before she reached out and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him gently and then more firmly as there was no response. “No, no, no!” she whimpered before she pressed her hand over his heart and closed her eyes.

Fenris could feel a ghostly whisper of magic, like a gentle touch of a finger drawn along the lyrium of his body as she drew upon her power and then sent a little touch of healing into Anders’ body and concentrated, frowning a little before a look of profound relief crossed her face. “Oh Maker, he’s alive. He’s alive,” she sighed, relieved, before wrapping her arms around him and pressing her head to his chest, relieved to feel his heart beating beneath her ear.

“Yes, he’s alive. I don’t think either of us would be sitting around casually if he wasn’t. Let him go before he wakes up and thinks he’s being attacked Pin. I’ll have breakfast sent up.” Fenris said with an odd glance at his daughter before he asked for food to be sent.

“Leave the man be sister, he’s not dead. I’m sure Master Hawke and father don’t want you pawing at him like that either.” Callus added.

“Cal, he looked _dead_!” she exclaimed hotly, nonetheless straightening as she spoke. “He’s barely breathing and there’s something wrong! I was _worried_ , damn you!”

“Vulpine, relax. I’m sure if he _was_ dead that we’d have heard their wailing all the way in our rooms. Just sit with him if you wish, but stop panicking. We’ve got enough going on without more hysterics.” Callus came over and offered Zevran a hand up. 

Pin glared at him then pointedly turned her back to him as she sat on the edge of the bed to watch over Anders as he still slumbered on in his drugged sleep.

Zevran bit back a groan as he allowed Callus to pull him to his feet, then nodded his thanks to the boy before limping his way over to the dining table and dropping into a seat with a low sigh.  
Fenris remained by the door, his gaze flicking between his children, Zevran and Anders. He’d nearly nodded off before a knock heralded the arrival of their breakfast. “I hope there’s coffee, and maybe I should send for more healing potions, we’ll use all of Anders’ at this rate.” 

“I can run down and get them father, especially since you’re somehow injured since we last saw you?” Callus said before he dug into a bowl of porridge.

Zevran was staring down at his hands as they rested in his lap. “The blame for that is mine,” he said quietly.

“Don’t, it’s done and over Zevran.” Fenris said as he carefully sat back with coffee.

The Antivan closed his eyes briefly, before glancing up at Fenris with a look full of remorse. “As you say, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly before reaching for the coffee pot, ignoring the food.

“Eat, do not starve yourself.” Fenris said without looking up from his own mug.

“I’ll wake Anders so he can eat.” Callus said before he rose.

Pin glanced up at him as he approached the bed. “He won’t wake up,” she said quietly.

“He’s only asleep, deep under but still asleep.” Callus said as he approached. He nudged Anders to see if the mage would stir. He may as well have been nudging a rag doll; Anders didn’t respond, his body limp and relaxed.

“Oh come on, wake up would you?” Callus said as he pushed harder and even tapped the human’s face. Anders’ head rolled bonelessly to the side, and he began to see why Pin had thought the man dead at first.

“Did another mage put him to sleep?” Callus said as he tried to shake him awake one more time.

“No, but he took a sleeping draught a few hours ago.” Fenris replied. 

Zevran had glanced up at Fenris; at his answer, he shrugged. “Ah. Then he will be dead to the world for some hours yet,” he remarked. “You will wake him only with great difficulty. Though,” he added with a wry smile, “do feel free to try.”

“I’ll leave him be then, we can just request another tray when he’s awake. Do either of you need anything?” Callus asked as he reluctantly rose to join the other elves. 

“A clean shirt and maybe some things from my room. I do not wish to remain there alone.” Fenris admitted. 

“I will need fresh clothes also,” nodded Zevran. “I would rather not have to face those stairs just yet, I must confess.”

“One of us ought to let the Inquisitor know why none of you were at breakfast,” remarked Pin.

“I’ll do it, Master Hawke is still injured and now father. I would also feel better if you were not alone Pin. The Inquisitor is just upstairs correct?” Callus said.

“He is,” nodded Zevran. “Thankfully the war room is just below us, and so we will not have far to go once Anders awakens.”

“Alright, I will return shortly.” Callus headed up to see if the Inquisitor was awake, and found he was not just awake but rather enthusiastically greeting the day as he halted a few steps away from the inner door. 

“Ah - Meneris, please, _amatus!_ ” cried Dorian, his voice carrying clearly, high and breathless and needy. “Please, I - I need your cock, _please!_ ” He suddenly cried out louder. “Ah - harder! Again, harder!”

Callus’ eyes widened as he turned and fled down the stairs, uncaring that they might have heard him. He wasn't shy about sex but he didn’t want to hear _that_ much enthusiasm from anyone, let alone men he was supposed to respect rather than blush and look away the next time he saw them. Dorian’s long, breathy wail pursued him down the stairs as he ran, deliberately trying to think of anything other the images his mind insisted on conjuring of what exactly the Inquisitor must be doing to cause such sounds from the Tevinter magister. He wasn’t entirely successful; his face was still rather red as he reached the great hall and set out for his father’s room and the Rookery.

Callus hurried past anyone who might see him, mortified just a bit at what he’d overheard. He hoped he wasn’t as shamefaced by the time he returned.

Fenris looked up when he heard Callus’ hurried steps and the slam of the door. “I guess Meneris was busy?” 

Callus ducked his head in embarrassment. His face wasn’t quite as hot and flushed as before; he hoped his blush had abated. “Uh... yes, very busy; probably best to try again later,” he mumbled. “I don’t think he noticed any of you weren’t at breakfast.” He set out Fenris and Zevran’s clothes then distracted himself with hastily pouring a cup of coffee.

Pin gave him a sharp look, but was distracted from making comment by Anders at that point sighing softly then turning his head slightly on the pillow, his eyelids fluttering a little.

Fenris’ eyebrows rose at his son’s words and let a smile appear. “I can only imagine what would have kept him from such vital Inquisition business. Must have needed his husband’s counsel as well.” 

“Er, yes - I could hear Dorian’s voice,” nodded Callus before taking a mouthful of coffee. _Maker, could I ever hear his voice!_ His treacherous subconscious insisted on furnishing him with an image of Dorian impaled upon Meneris’ cock and screaming for more. He could feel the blush stealing over his face again and leaned over the table to put breakfast together for himself hurriedly, not looking at anyone.

Anders made a little faint breathy moan then rolled slowly onto his side; one hand brushed Pin’s where it lay on the coverlet, and he blindly wrapped his hand around it, holding it gently. “Solona?” he murmured, more than half asleep still and likely still dreaming. Pin looked down, startled, but didn’t pull her hand back, letting him hold it in his warm, gentle hand.

“Pin, wake him please?” Fenris said with a frown, displeased that he called for _her_ as he slept.

She pulled her slender hand from his with a guilty start and glanced back at her father before turning back to Anders. He had made a small sound of disappointment then curled his hands in against his chest as he drew his legs up and hunched inwards. She gently took hold of his shoulders and shook him. “Master? Master Anders? It’s time to wake up, ser.”

“Do you know rejuvenate yet? That sometimes helps.” Fenris said with a glance at her before he rose.

“I think so. I’ve been having... well, variable success with it,” she confessed. “So many distractions, I haven’t had a chance to study lately. But I’ll try.”

She drew a deep breath and called up her mana, then pressed the palm of her hand against Anders’ forehead above his closed eyes. She could feel the faint remains of the Tranquil brand beneath her palm; the slight traces of lyrium that still lingered tingled against her skin. She tried to ignore it as she pushed the mana into Anders and willed it to invigorate and waken him.

Perhaps she pushed too much into the spell, or maybe the lyrium amplified it somehow; but Anders suddenly gave a loud gasp as his eyes flew open and he recoiled away from her with a hoarse cry of pain before rolling over away from her and curling in upon himself, clutching his forehead. “Maker, it burns!” he exclaimed. 

Fenris came over and pulled Anders into his arms despite the way it pulled his injured side. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’ve got you.” 

“It’s burning,” said Anders, his teeth gritted. “Like - like being branded again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said Pin hurriedly, a guilty look upon her face. She glanced at her father and her eyes widened as she suddenly spotted the bloodstain upon his shirt. “Father! You’re... you’re hurt!”

“I already said that I am to blame,” said Zevran testily. “Were you not paying attention, girl?”

“I know but - Father, he _stabbed_ you??”

Anders’ head jerked up and he blinked away tears of pain as he stared at the bloodstains upon Fenris’ shirt. Wordlessly he reached out to press his palm gently against Fenris’ ribs over the darkest part of the stain, and a moment later Fenris felt the soothing touch of the mage’s healing magic.

“It was an accident Pin, I know how dangerous Zevran is, even when sound asleep. Stop shouting, please.” Fenris said before he looked to his human husband. “Thanks, it’s ok. Zevran patched me up soon as it happened.” 

“How did it happen?” asked Anders as he straightened.

“I did not awaken as swiftly as I should have - not in time to check the impulse to strike. Unfortunately, your father was the unfortunate one to stop my blade - the painful way.” Zevran glanced to Anders with a remorseful look. “I broke my vow. I held blade to his throat and shed his blood.”

Anders glanced to Fenris. “You... you forgave him... yes? Zevran can’t help it, it’s... what the Crows did - the habits of a lifetime, he just -”

“Anders,” called Zevran softly. “You are babbling. Yes, our husband forgave me. It will take me some time to forgive myself however.”

Fenris placed his hand over Anders and gave him a smile. “I’m fine, better for your healing. Come and join us, I’ll get cleaned up and request a fresh meal for you.” 

Callus glanced away from them, uncomfortable with the easy affection between the three men. Also, worried for Pin as she slipped away to join him at the table.

Anders nodded to Fenris and pulled back the covers to swing his feet to the floor, running one hand through his hair to pull it back out of his face. As he rose and crossed to his wardrobe, his hand absently drifted back to the faint, silvery sunburst scar upon his forehead.

Fenris went to the attached privy to clean up and discard of the bloody shirt. He pressed a kiss to Anders’ cheek as he went by, glad to be changed. 

Anders hummed distractedly, a faint smile upon his face for the kiss as he hunted through his wardrobe, finally settling on a pair of dark blue pants, a slate blue-grey tunic in Anderfels style, and a simple loose outer robe in dark blue-grey. He moved back to the bed and began to dress, turning his back as he stripped off the nightshirt.

Callus found he couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s back, aghast at the whip scars that covered Anders’ back from shoulders right down his back and disappearing under the waistband of his sleep pants. As Anders bent over to strip those off, Callus could see the whip scars extended down the back of his thighs. Callus had only ever seen whipping scars as bad as that on runaway slaves - usually the ones that Xerxeus had marked for disposal in blood ritual, in the end. 

Fenris returned and sat next to Callus, noticing how he looked over Anders scars. He squeezed his son’s shoulder briefly. “It’s alright.”

Anders was oblivious to the young man’s stares; he continued dressing, tugging on a dark blue linen shirt over the pants before lacing up the tunic. He turned back towards them as he pulled on the robe and made his way to the table.

“Is there any more coffee?” he inquired before noticing the way Callus was staring at him. He arched an eyebrow as he picked up the distinct impression Callus was badly bothered or perhaps shaken by something. “Callus? Are you alright?”

The younger elf looked up, then away quickly. “I apologize, I have never seen a mage with whip marks before. Nor a slave who’d survived such things.”

Anders went still, his face going blank for a moment before he reached for the coffee pot.“I am not the only Southern mage with such marks,” he said quietly, his voice calm. “Many of us who grew up in the old Circle system under the rule of the Chantry bear scars, one way or another - some of us simply have more visible scars than others. But that system is ended now.” His eyes were on his cup as he poured himself a mug of coffee. “Some of the templars seem to have forgotten that salient fact however." He lifted his eyes to glance to Callus; though his outward demeanor remained calm, there was a sudden flash of anger in his eyes. "I will find which templars were responsible for flogging Hal, and when I find them I will make those bastards wish they had never been born,” he continued softly.

“I’ll help you.” Fenris added. 

“I know you will, love,” nodded Anders. He blinked then stepped back from the table. “Do excuse me a minute; I could use a little fresh air," he added. "It's a little stuffy in here.”

“Cal help him please, it sounds like someone is approaching the door.” Fenris rose and got to the door just as their visitor knocked. He opened the door to find a rather nervous looking guard with Invictus holding on to their arm as he waited for someone to let them in.

Anders turned and stared at Invictus, and what colour was left in his face drained away entirely as he froze. His mug fell from his hand, forgotten; he swayed slightly, and then he closed his eyes. Callus was just in time to catch Anders as he dropped in a dead faint; for all his height, Callus was surprised at how little the mage actually weighed.

Fenris took Invictus off the guard’s hands and shut the door. “What are you doing here? I would have liked to warn Anders first.” he said as he helped his mage to the table. 

“I was going stir crazy in my room and I missed you all. I needed to see you love.” Vic said as he looked to where Callus had come in with Anders in his arms. Zevran had risen from his seat as Anders started to fall, and he limped around the table towards Callus.

“The bed, lay him down,” said the Antivan as he limped over.

“What’s wrong, why are you limping? Is it ...something _he_ did to you?” Vic asked.

“Zevran was walking around on a broken leg that was also infected,” said Fenris heavily. “It... aggravated old injuries we did not know about. Hal had to operate. Anders did some healing work upon it yesterday, but Zevran is still stiff and in pain - not helped by sleeping on the floor last night,” he added, giving the Antivan elf a meaningful look. The former Crow shrugged.

“The life of a Crow is a hard one, and few live much longer than I - except those who rise to the very top. And those at the top do not stay there very long unless they have their wits about them. This... I have survived worse. So I limp a few days and I am a little stiff.” He shrugged. “It will pass; it always does.”

“I’m sorry for what I did when he had me.” Invictus said as he glanced at the elf. “I just hope Anders can stand to see me when he comes around.” 

Zevran glanced up from where he was leaning over Anders as Callus laid the unconscious man. “I am sure he will,” he said gently. “Anders has... not been well, and we had a disturbed night. He was already complaining of feeling dizzy. It was only an accident of timing, I am sure.” He glanced to Fenris, who shrugged.

“It seems the likely explanation,” the white-haired elf agreed. “We none of us slept well I think.”

Callus answered the knock at the door, taking the tray and note from the servant. “Father, the note’s for you, food for Anders.” 

The older elf took the note, frowning at Meneris’ tight script requesting them come to the War Room before the dinner hour. “Speaking of bad timing.”

Anders moaned softly at that moment, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly returned to consciousness. “Fenris,” he slurred, his eyes still closed.

“I’m here, what do you need?” he called as he sat next to Anders, taking his husband’s hand in his. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“What happened?” he asked dazedly as he opened his eyes and glanced up at Fenris. “I remember feeling dizzy, and then it all went dark. Did I faint?”

“Yes, you were already out of it and then our visitor showed up.” Fenris put his hand on Anders chest, expression grave. “Honesty is all I’ll take for an answer. Are you up to seeing Invictus? He’s not fully recovered, and a bit fragile as well but he is himself once more. If you say no, I’ll take him around for a walk, something but I will not force you to see him if you aren’t yet ready.” 

“He... he’s not... not possessed?” said Anders in a faint yet hopeful voice that tugged painfully at Invictus’ heartstrings with the pain he could hear in Anders’ voice.

“He’s not, remember I checked? He’s himself again, I swear it.” Fenris said quietly. “Now, the truth are you able to have him here.”

Anders closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I - I think so,” he said quietly.

“Only if you are sure, and if you change your mind I take him out of the room.” Fenris turned and beckoned to Invictus to join them. 

Zevran limped around the bed then crawled across it to set himself with his back against the headboard; as Anders slowly sat up, Zevran slipped in behind him to wrap his arms around Anders’ waist and rest his chin on the blond mage’s shoulder. “You are safe; I have you, my heart,” he murmured. Anders let himself relax back into Zevran’s embrace, resting his head against Zevran’s shoulder as he watched Invictus approach.

Fenris gave Vic a smile as the mage approached and sat by them. “Do you want to just sit with us or do you wish to talk?” he glanced to his children and nodded at the door in case they wanted to leave.

Pin glanced to Callus, clearly ill at ease around the First Enchanter.

“We’ll leave you lot to have this talk without us hanging around. See you later father, Anders… Hawke.” Callus sneered before he ushered his sister out.

“Mythal save me from an even more blunt, younger version of myself.” Fenris muttered under his breath.

Anders sighed very quietly, and glanced back to Invictus. He tried to smile, to put the other mage at ease, but feared it merely came across as nervous and anxious. Which, in truth was precisely how he was feeling - and he had the distinct impression Invictus felt the same. _Like a pair of nervous long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs,_ the thought came unbidden.

“I’m sorry, so sorry love, if I can still call you that.” Vic said as he nervously reached for Anders. “Anything I can do to make it up, it’s yours no questions asked and no hesitation. I love you so much, all of you and I’m sorry.” Vic repeated as he hung his head.

“I still love you,” replied Anders quietly as he reached his hand out towards Invictus.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m so sorry I was weak.” Vic said tearily as he took Anders hand and kissed it. 

“Magebane,” murmured Anders absently. His eyes looked distant for a moment, and his hand glowed blue in Invictus’ grasp. Invictus’ eyes widened as he felt a tingling in his veins and then deeper inside.

“Liver,” murmured Anders. “Inflamed. Kidneys at half function. Chronic magebane use over several days at far too high doses. Acute poisoning....” His eyes had glazed over, his attention focused within.

“No, don’t use your energy to heal me. I’ll be alright in a bit.” Vic said as he tried to get Anders to stop.

“No,” said Anders in that same distant voice. “I’ve got this. Just let me heal you.”

“Anders....” said Fenris, concerned.

“Easy, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran. “I do not think he will push himself too far. Let him try.”

Invictus frowned, but the effect of Anders’ magic was undeniable - at least to Invictus himself. It was like a Rejuvenate and a healing spell all at the same time; he could feel the sluggishness of his thoughts and the roiling nausea in his guts alleviating at the same time as the dull ache in the small of his back and the painful throbbing of his head. He felt brighter, more alive and refreshed - as though he’d just awoken from a good deep sleep.

Anders let his hand drop. “Better?” he asked with a wan smile.

“Much. But... Anders you shouldn’t have wasted your energy on me like that,” said Invictus, shaking his head.

“You needed healing,” argued Anders. “Would you rather have felt like this for several more days?”

Invictus opened his mouth to speak but Fenris glared at him. “Do not speak of deserving and not deserving, Invictus,” he said quietly. “It will serve no purpose here. It will not alleviate your guilt, and it will not help any of us.” 

Invictus shut his mouth again.

“Will you be alright to visit with each other a while? Meneris wanted to see me in the war room before dinner.” Fenris asked.

“I’d rather not be alone now, if you don’t mind?” Vic said hopefully.

Anders smiled tiredly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you don’t mind me napping for a while?” he asked. Zevran slightly tightened his arms around Anders, and the blond man gave him a reassuring smile as he lifted a hand to stroke Zevran’s face, his fingers following the line of the sinuous tattoo down the side of the Antivan’s face. “I’m OK,” he said gently. “Just very tired.” He glanced back to Invictus. 

“As long as I get to stay with you, I don’t mind.” Invictus said as he stretched out alongside Anders.

“Alright, I’ll just be below in the War Room if any of you need me.” Fenris said before leaving them with a longing glance. 

Anders stretched a hand out to Invictus as he relaxed further into Zevran’s embrace, the Antivan pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “You feel alright now? No weakness?” asked Anders, his voice still sounding weak.

“Yes, much better. Can I hold you too? Please?” Invictus asked as he glanced at Zevran. “You too, I’ve missed all of you.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Anders smiled. Zevran shifted out from behind Anders so the mage could lie down in Invictus’ arms, and then Zevran spooned up behind Anders and reached a hand out to rest it upon Invictus’ hip.

Anders drifted to sleep, safe between the two men.

**

The whole of Skyhold was searched thoroughly and repeatedly, top to bottom, in the next couple of months. Not a room was left untouched; quite a number of rooms were discovered that had previously been completely unknown - as was an extensive system of tunnels directly below the Undercroft that no-one had had the slightest clue as to the existence of - though it seemed that access to those tunnels had been lost and forgotten about centuries ago, from the looks of the thick, heavy dust like drifts of snow that filled them. 

By the time it was done, Josephine had drafted in several teams of dwarven engineers to thoroughly map out every inch of the keep and surrounding environs, inside and out.

It was about this time that everyone realised they’d seen no sign of Cole since shortly after Hal’s kidnapping. Pin reported she could feel nothing of the spirit of Justice either. None of the mages could fathom what this meant.

It was certain that the only way the Iron Bull could have gotten in or out was through the Eluvian; by the time the search was complete, they were also certain that the Iron Bull had entered alone, and left with only Hal. Where was still a mystery.

Lace Harding mobilised the scouts; Zevran pulled in every favour he could think of and taxed his information networks to their limits. Word from Val Royeaux suggested that the Divine’s new Right Hand was doing likewise.

Four months on from Hal’s disappearance and there had been no sign or report of the young mage anywhere.

SIx months on, and slowly resources were reassigned elsewhere. Zevran still did all he could, but he was only one man and they had no idea where in Thedas Hal could have been taken - assuming he were even still alive.

Fenris refused to even entertain the possibility that Hal might be dead.

Nathaniel had gone back to Vigil’s Keep after the first month, alone; he gave his word that he would do his best to find out if any grey Wardens had encountered a slender young mage with a scar across his forehead, blood-red hair to his shoulders, one golden eye, one blue. 

They heard nothing from him.

And then a messenger arrived from Orlais, ordering a meeting to discuss the future of the Inquisition now that the threat of Corypheus were well and truly over.

***

Meneris scowled at the missive then set it aside. “What the void do those vultures want with us now?” he snarled.

Dorian picked it up and scanned it slowly. “I suspect we’re to give an accounting of ourselves and justify our reasons for the Inquisition’s continued existence, I suppose,” he shrugged.

“Oh to hell with them, I have no time for this foolishness Dorian.” Meneris grabbed for the letter but grimaced in pain as his marking flared.

Dorian reached for Meneris’ wrist and cradled his husband’s hand gently in his own, palm uppermost, and stared in consternation at the pulsating mark. “ _Amatus_ , I do wish you would let Anders look at this and talk to him about it,” he sighed. “It obviously pains you - and why should it be playing up like this now? Corypheus is dead, all breaches and rifts closed - there’s no reason for it to be active at all!”

“Fine, it will probably be a good idea. Perhaps I’ll be in a better humor.”

Dorian sighed thankfully. “Thank you, _Amatus_ ,” he said with a ghost of his usual smile, his grey eyes still holding a little of his worry.

“Come on, perhaps we can pull Fenris out of semi permanent state of loathing everyone for a bit.” Meneris said.

“Hah,” said Dorian dourly. After the way Fenris had practically bitten his head off the last time Dorian had tried to pull him out of his funk of self-hatred, the Tevinter mage found himself rather wary of going anywhere near the warrior for a while.

“Do we need to do something about him amatus? He’s dangerous when in such a state.” Meneris said softly.

Dorian sighed. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “He seems to feel it is his fault that Hal was taken. Likely Hal is either dead - or likely wishing he were, if he’s in Qunari hands, as seems the most likely explanation. But with no evidence either way, I think Fenris is caught in limbo, as it were - we all are, really, but it’s worst for Fenris and Arden.”

“He’s been morose since we failed to find Hal. Nothing is going to convince him it wasn’t his fault. Even Pin has a hard time getting through to him lately.” Meneris sighed.

Dorian hummed agreement. “She isn’t letting it distract her too much from her studies though. Anders was right - she is proving to be a formidably powerful healer. She might even be his equal one day, with a few decades of experience under her belt. Her temperament is just as volatile as her sire’s however, which does hold her back - that said, I was hardly much better at her age. A thorough brat in fact, if I recall correctly.”

“None of us were angels in our teen years. Come, let’s visit with Anders then attempt to soothe the dragon in our midst.” Meneris laughed.

Dorian knocked on the door of Anders’ rooms, and the door was opened by Ellowynne. “Oh! Hello Ambassador Lavellen-Pavus! Inquisitor!” She grinned at them.

Meneris blinked at his full name. “Hello Ellowynne, is your father about?” 

“I’m over here,” said Anders himself as he wandered in from the balcony. “Inquisitor, Dorian - to what do I owe the pleasure?” He smiled.

“Dorian is concerned over my mark flaring up and thought you might take a look at it.” Meneris said.

“Your mark?” echoed Anders with a faint frown. He set down the book he held in his hand then crossed the room, holding his hand out for Meneris’ hand.

Meneris let the mage take his hand and stilled so Anders could examine it.

Anders frowned as he stared at the raised, inflamed flesh around the edges of the mark, the faint tendrils of darker - _something_ , he wasn’t sure what, just beneath the skin. Not red - not a normal infection. It was a subtle, dark greyish-green - almost but not quite reminiscent of Blight contagion. _Better to be safe than sorry._ He laid his hand lightly over Meneris’ palm and gently called on his magic, extending his senses down into the skin around the mark.

The next thing Meneris knew he was on his back screaming in agony as he tried to keep his mark from getting worse or more painful. “Stop, stop it hurts so much.” 

“Meneris? Meneris! Love, what’s happening? He’s stopped, he’s -” Dorian’s voice was high and panicky, and in the background the elf could hear Ellowynne begging her father to get up.

“Something about his magic and my mark, it hurts!” Meneris yelled. 

“Maker - Meneris, what should I do?” exclaimed Dorian; somewhere across the room, Anders groaned as the door slammed open and he could hear feet fleeing the room.

“Check on Anders, I’m just in pain, sounds like he’s worse off. Last thing we need is Fenris or Invictus running in thinking we killed him.” Meneris groaned.

“Not...not dead,” Anders managed from across the room. “Maker... what hit me?”

“Stay there, Anders,” called Dorian. “You hit that wall pretty hard.”  
“My mark reacted to your magic and it ...did something.” Meneris said as he sat up.

“That... that shouldn’t have happened,” Anders said, bewildered. “I wasn’t actively trying to heal you, just trying to feel out what was going on....” His voice tailed off, and then there was a soft inhalation of breath. “I’m... I’m bleeding?” There was a note of faint surprise in his voice. 

As Dorian helped Meneris sit up, the elf glanced around to see Anders sitting up across the room by the wall, surrounded by the smashed remains of a table with broken glass scattered around him; he was inspecting a ragged gash in his sleeve that was wet with blood.

“What happened?” Meneris asked as he got to his feet, just in time for Ellowynne to return with Fenris.

“As you said,” shrugged Anders, glancing up at him with a faintly dazed expression. “The moment I touched your mark with my magic, it reacted. There was a bright flash of green light and then I hit the wall hard and blacked out.” He cradled his bleeding arm against his chest and leaned on his other hand as he prepared to lever himself to his feet, then jerked and stiffened, his face draining of colour as his eyes widened in shocked pain.

He sagged against the wall and lifted his hand and stared at the ragged burn that slashed across his palm, the smell of his own burned flesh making him want to gag. He could only stare at the wound in shock.

Fenris bent down to cradle Anders face in his hands. “Focus on me, can you heal yourself?” 

“Parcival,” Anders managed to gasp. “Or Arden.I can barely think straight and - my mana... it’s been drained away. Into - into his mark.” He was trembling with the shock.

“Ellowynne, go get Parcival Hurry please.” Fenris said as he got a blanket to put over Anders.

She nodded and leapt to her feet again, running swiftly.

“ _Amicus_ , here - healing potions; they may help,” murmured Dorian as he laid three down next to Anders’ feet before retreating back to Meneris, who had found the pain was dying now.

Fenris uncorked them and handed one to Anders in the hope he could help himself.

Anders reached his unharmed hand out for the bottle and grimaced as the cut down that arm pulled sharply. He gritted his teeth against the pain and took the bottle, choking off a groan as he lifted it to his lips and downed it. As he lowered the empty vial he felt fresh blood run hot and wet down his arm.

“Maker, I’m a mess,” he murmured. 

“I’ll get bandages for you, hold on.” Fenris found the first aid kit and a flannel so he could help Anders get patched up. 

“I don’t even remember cutting my arm,” Anders confessed as Ellowynne reappeared with Parcival.

“Anders - what happened?” he asked, breathlessly, as he dropped down to his knees next to them. Anders held out his burned hand wordlessly, and Parcival visibly winced. “Maker,” he murmured.

“Can’t cast - no mana,” Anders explained.

“Don’t worry, just let me treat you,” said Parcival as he gently cradled Anders’ burnt hand with one hand and covered his palm with the other hand, pouring healing magic into the wound.

Anders let his head drop back to rest against the wall at his back and closed his eyes.

“Meneris, for future reference, getting in the way when your mark goes off is rather... unpleasant,” he called with a half-hearted attempt to grin.

“Tell me about it, I’m sorry Anders.” Meneris glanced to Fenris and back this husband. “We should get out of the way and let you clean up. I’ll call on you a bit later.” 

“I’ll take care of him Inquisitor. See you later.” Fenris said as he stood by with Ellowynne.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Exalted Council gets underway dramatically.

Anders glanced out of the window of the carriage as it rolled to a halt before the grand main entrance of the royal palace. If Halamshiral had been impressive, it was nothing to Celene’s main residence in Val Royeaux. He glanced up at Arden as the blond mage reined his horse in.

“Best pull your hood up - we don’t want anyone noticing there appear to be two Grand Enchanters,” murmured Arden. Anders nodded and pulled his head back inside, tugging up his hood.

They had debated long over the war table as to who should accompany Meneris to Orlais to answer the summons. Dorian would accompany him as a matter of course, and it would have seemed strange indeed if the Grand Enchanter did not also visit Orlais for such a meeting - which meant that Arden had to go as Anders’ public face. Anders planned to speak to Leliana in person privately however.

Cullen and Josephine were also to be part of the retinue, as was Zevran. As First Enchanter of Skyhold, Invictus was counted as one of the Inquisitor’s advisers - as was Fenris, in his role as the Inquisition’s ambassador to Tevinter. There would be several Tevene dignitaries at Val Royeaux; the Imperium had an interest in the future of the Inquisition, in light of the treaties Arden had signed in Anders’ name for a start, not to mention business dealings through Fenris and Dorian.

Fenris’ children and Ellowynne had been left behind, the latter in the care of the College which fell to Parcival in Invictus’ absence; Anders knew that Parcival and Rebecca would take good care of his daughter.

The elven ambassador stared out the window, mind back in Skyhold as they rolled on. He was listless, unable to focus for the moment on his duties. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a caress to his hand. “Hmm?”

“Copper for your thoughts love?” Invictus asked.

“None of these thoughts are worth that much. I am uneasy for many reasons, and I dislike the tone of our invitation Invictus. I wonder who has demanded this accounting of the Inquisition’s plans?” Fenris replied.

“It’s an Exalted Council,” answered Anders. “Leliana - as Divine Victoria - will preside. There’s been a lot of talk as to whether the Inquisition should continue in light of Corypheus’ threat having been dealt with. Ferelden, in particular, is hostile to it continuing.”

“I don’t care, we have other matters we could be attending to besides this pissing contest among these fools,” Fenris replied. 

“Fenris, you know we have to show up to this thing and put on a united front. I don’t like it either, but it is what it is. You’re an ambassador now, you know how it goes,” Vic said gently. 

“If the Inquisition is disbanded, I’ll still be the Grand Enchanter and Invictus will still be First Enchanter of the Skyhold College - but you and Zevran will be out of a job, love,” Anders pointed out gently. “As will Meneris and Dorian. Dorian would likely be recalled to Tevinter, and I wouldn’t like to have to listen in on the conversation between Meneris and Dorian if _that_ happens - that’s going to be a very fraught discussion, because I can’t imagine Meneris would be too happy to go to Tevinter to be merely the spouse of a magister. Particularly given the Imperium’s attitude to elves.” He grimaced.

The warrior glanced to Anders then back out of the window as he considered his mages’ words. “I honestly don’t care if I lose the title. I don’t know how Zevran would feel about it and whatever Dorian and Meneris do is up to them.” Fenris sighed and leaned his head against the carriage window. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well and I’m out of sorts. I’m not being fair or reasonable right now.” 

Invictus glanced to Anders in worry before taking Fenris’ hand in his. “We can talk later, once we’ve gotten the requisite greeting and playing of the Game out of the way.” 

“I’m not particularly looking forward to any of this,” Anders confessed. “I’m glad it’s Arden who’ll be wearing the Grand Enchanter robes and not me - though I won’t be able to get out of the meeting arranged for the First Enchanters that will be present. There’s quite a number of people who are unhappy that I didn’t take up the traditional seat in Cumberland. If the Inquisition is disbanded, it’ll be harder for me to justify staying in Skyhold.”

“Ellowynne is still being taught there; it is home to both of you now. It would not do to take her from the community and her friends there,” Fenris replied.

“Let’s not put ourselves on the street before we’ve even met with this council. Unfortunately, we have to be on for them. Come on,” Vic said before he straightened and waited for their carriage to be opened as they were announced.

The door was opening; Anders hung back as the others got out. He tugged his hood a little further forward then drew a deep breath and followed them out. He wore the standard robes worn by senior enchanters at the Skyhold College to maintain the pretense that he were one of Invictus’ assistants. They’d agreed it was a suitable disguise when he wasn’t being Grand Enchanter for real.

Fenris wore black armor with silver highlights, the Inquisition sigil on his chestplate, with Hawke’s family crest on his pauldrons. He fell into step with Invictus who wore formal robes that were black, unlike the deeper red colour that he’d favored back in Kirkwall.

Arden was dismounting from his horse; his long white formal robes were caught by a stiff breeze as he handed his reins to a waiting Orlesian servant and strode forward to be announced. The white streak in his hair had been freshly dyed blond and he looked uncannily like Anders - Anders himself was fairly certain no-one apart from Leliana would know the difference.

Fenris was on his guard as they were escorted to the gardens for a small welcome reception before they were to get to the business. He squeezed Invictus’ fingers briefly before they were beset upon by other dignitaries who wanted time with them, and eventually the Inquisitor. 

Anders was glad to be able to hang back unnoticed as Fenris and Invictus were practically mobbed by a stream of Orlesians, Fereldens and a myriad of others. As he glanced around, he noticed that Arden had been similarly approached; after a brief glance to Invictus, he made his way slowly over towards the figure in white Grand Enchanter’s robes just in case Arden needed any help.

Zevran managed to drop out of sight fairly swiftly; he was well aware that there would be many who might want to corner the Spymaster for the Inquisition, but he was disinclined to play their game. There were many places to hide in the gardens, after all - and this wasn’t his first time here, though admittedly the first in which he’d been specifically invited to enter by the front door. It made a novel change, he mused, as he found a quiet corner and stripped out of the annoying bright red formal Inquisition jacket before making his way out into the gardens to lurk unseen. One more elf amongst the servants wouldn’t be noticed, after all - and he’d be more useful this way.

He couldn’t repress a slight smirk as he observed Invictus giving a tight, insincere smile to a fawning Orlesian noblewoman.

Fenris felt as if he would crack if one more person remarked upon his markings, too easily mistaken for _vallaslin_ by humans and those who assumed marked elves all were Dalish. He started to amuse himself with counting how many people mistook him for one of them. Eventually he had a chance to escape on the excuse of needing to confer with his fellow ambassador as Dorian approached. 

“ _Amicus_ ,” greeted Dorian with a weary smile. “You look about as done with this whole farce as I am.”

“I’m wondering when we can at least sit and pretend to be civil over drink and food. I’ve always hated gatherings like this in the Imperium. I think if one more person asks what clan I’m from I’ll start screaming.” Fenris returned his smile and took a glass of wine for each of them as a servant passed by. 

“I would not scream just yet, _carissimi_ ,” murmured the servant, and Fenris did a double-take when he noticed the tattoo on the man’s face. He was chagrined to realise he hadn’t paid attention to Zevran - simply because the servants had become almost invisible to him. He wondered privately with some disquiet just when that had started to happen; in the early years after he took his freedom from Danarius, he would never have made such a mistake.

“Mythal take you for startling me like that,” Fenris said, keeping his tone deliberately light. “You took no time in shedding that hideous excuse of a uniform. I refused to wear it, red doesn’t suit me. At least not that garish shade of it.” He winked at Dorian.

“I have seen enough of my own blood over the years to draw a similar conclusion,” remarked Zevran wryly. “But it is remarkable how shedding a jacket sheds also people’s expectations of one, no? And people let slip the most fascinating confidences around servants. Almost as though we were invisible. Why, I have heard of no fewer than three assassination plots against our dear Inquisitor already - and a slightly troubling rumour that I must investigate further.” He frowned slightly. “Do excuse me, _carissimi_ \- I must speak to Cullen and Josephine. Something is... not quite right here.” He glanced to Dorian who inclined his head in understanding before disappearing once more.

“Take care, and we’ll see you later.” Fenris watched Zevran slip off into the crowd with a worried look. “He needs to slow down.”

“I concur,” replied Dorian thoughtfully. “He’s limping again slightly, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and if I try to keep him still he’ll resent me for it. I’ve already failed one man I love, I can’t…” Fenris caught himself and gave Dorian an unconvincing smile. “Come, we should be seen together, united front between Tevinter and the Inquisition, right?”

“But of course, _amicus_ \- and, ah... isn’t that your blond mage husband following after him?” added Dorian with a nod to the hooded figure in senior enchanter’s robes that drifted behind Zevran at a slight distance.

“Yes, I wish we could have left him as well, but we know he’s too damned stubborn to remain behind. At least I can keep an eye on him here.” Fenris said as he accepted a refill from an elven servant before linking his arm in Dorian’s and moving further into the crowd.

“Now then, _amicus_ \- you know as well as I that only he can make the necessary agreements for the continuation of his plans for the College and the Circles with Divine Victoria,” pointed out Dorian. “Arden can only do so much, after all.”

“I know, I know. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, or not worry for him, Invictus, Zevran or you. I hate feeling like this,” Fenris admitted with a fake smile for another politician who approached.

“Look at it this way, _amicus_ \- of you all, Anders is likely the safest. As just one random senior enchanter in Invictus’ service, he’s too minor to draw anyone’s attention,” Dorian pointed out before bestowing a dazzling smile on a minor Orlesian noblewoman who didn’t notice the charm failing to reach his storm-grey eyes.

“As you say, _amicus_ ; I will still keep an eye on him as much as I can,” Fenris replied quietly before the Antivan ambassador gave him a bow and a winning smile. “Greetings Ambassador Luciano, how was your trip?”

“Ah, Ambassador Hawke! It was not bad; fair weather, good sailing,” shrugged Luciano with a shrug. “I was hoping the Inquisition’s Spymaster might have accompanied you - how fares Zevran Arainai?” His smile appeared sincere enough at first but failed to reach his dark brown eyes which were surprisingly devoid of warmth.

“He’s well, very well indeed. I’m sure he’ll be sorry to have missed you.” Fenris gave as good as he got with his fellow diplomat. Thankfully, Zevran had warned him of how Luciano could be; oily as any magister and just as dangerous, for all his gracious charm.

They conversed for a while as Dorian slipped away to find a drink and Meneris, in that order. It gave him a chance to make a slow circuit of the gardens. He came across Cullen playing with a mabari in one quiet corner near an empty gazebo; the Tevinter magister didn’t think he’d ever seen Cullen quite so relaxed in such a formal setting before. He wondered where the Commander had found the beast but moved on rather than intrude upon what seemed to be a happy little encounter.

He skirted around a gaggle of ladies who were attempting to flirt with Invictus despite his married status and smiled to himself; either word hadn’t gotten around that Skyhold’s First Enchanter was anything but a ladies’ man, or else perhaps they viewed it as a challenge. He left Invictus to it as he claimed two glasses of wine from a passing waiter then slipped past the throng to reach Meneris’ side. He handed his husband one glass.

“Thought you might appreciate this, _amatus_ ,” he murmured quietly before sipping from his own glass.

“Creators do I, thank you love.” Meneris took Dorian’s free hand in his as he sipped and watched the women vying for Invictus’ attention. “Maker, they act like he’s a fresh kill and they’re on the hunt. Do they not see his rings?”

“They merely view that as a challenge,” shrugged Dorian as he sipped from his glass. “I’ve had no fewer than five propositions myself. Zevran was smart to slip off his jacket and disappear or no doubt he’d have been similarly cornered. An-” He checked himself before he could blurt out Anders’ name. “And of course, anyone else below us in our retinue is safe from attention,” he finished.

“What of Fenris? He’s a striking man and unusually well built for an elf, I’m surprised more people aren’t after him,” Meneris noted as he looked around for him.

“Would _you_ like to be on the receiving end of one of his glares?” retorted Dorian.

“He doesn’t frighten me, besides he’s as unsure of himself as I can be. He just hides it very, very well. You saw how he reacted when I slapped him that time, he just needs proper handling when he gets to be a certain way,” Meneris remarked.

Dorian covered a smirk with a soft cough into his hand. “Yes, well, you’ll forgive me if I leave such, ah, _chastisement_ to you, _amatus_ he replied quietly. “You are rather good at it, after all.”

“Oh we know how good I am at punishment, don’t we my heart?” Meneris smiled as he gave his husband’s hand a hard squeeze. “Hmm, I wonder…” he trailed off.

“Now, now, _amatus_ ,” murmured Dorian. “Later, perhaps, hmm?” He glanced over towards Anders as the hooded mage drifted past the outskirts of the crowd around he and Meneris. “Speaking of people who apparently also enjoy such games....”

“Oh it’s a flight of fancy _amatus_ , I’m not interested in sex with our ambassador. Well, not the way you’re thinking I suppose.” Meneris followed Dorian’s glance in Anders’ direction and grinned. “How would you know that, hmm?”

“Not personal experience, more’s the pity,” Dorian shrugged. “But his quarters _are_ directly below ours, and apparently he likes to leave his balcony doors open of an evening.”

“I see… if I were to indulge in such things, it would be more for your benefit I think _amatus_. I get to exert control over your _amicus_ and you reap the benefits. Though we can discuss that later when there aren’t a lot of people around to overhear such filthy thoughts from their Herald, hmm?” Meneris tugged Dorian along towards the Palace, ready to get things started.

Dorian chuckled - a low, filthy sound. “Perhaps we could encourage Fenris to bring him along of an evening then, and scratch three itches for the price of two, hmm?”

“Three itches? I daresay between two Wardens and his enhancements, we’d scandalize half the court before long. I’d probably be limping by the end of it,” Meneris said with a real grin for his husband. “Assuming either would go for it.”

“Fenris would - but only if he’s certain his husband is absolutely comfortable and happy with it,” shrugged Dorian.

“Perhaps it would calm him a bit, he would always seem more relaxed after certain activities with ...our new enemy.” Meneris avoided saying the Qunari’s name more out of habit than any concern that Fenris could hear him. He put on his ‘Inquisitor’ face as yet another country’s leader approached them for a few moments of his time. “Here we go again.”

Dorian glanced at the approaching dignitary and summoned up an appropriately polite yet noncommittal expression with an ease of far too long practicing. His eyes however were on Zevran who had reappeared and was speaking urgently to Anders; he blinked as Anders turned and he and Zevran hurried over to Arden. Anders plucked at Arden’s sleeve; the “Grand Enchanter” inclined his head slightly towards the hooded mage who murmured something into his ear. As both mages broke away from the group that had gathered about Arden and headed swiftly towards the palace, Zevran following, Dorian tapped Meneris’ arm and leaned in close. 

“ _Amatus_ , something’s going on,” he whispered. “Anders and Arden have just taken off towards the palace rather swiftly with Zevran in tow. They’ve just ducked behind that pillar to the right of the entrance.”

“Creators, could we at least make it to dessert before the intrigue begins?” Meneris sighed as he headed towards the entrance, sure not to let on that he was concerned.

The Grand Enchanter stepped out from behind the pillar as Meneris approached, and the elven Inquisitor realised Anders and Arden had exchanged robes.

“Trouble?” asked Dorian in a low voice as Zevran stepped out behind them, dressed in his Inquisition uniform once more.

“Looks like there’s going to be some sort of confrontation,” said Anders quietly. “Bann Teagan appears to be heading up a deputation from Ferelden; Zevran’s learned they plan to make some kind of demand.”

“The Fereldens have been talking together and are moving now,” said Zevran. “I think they are going to try to force the issue even before the Exalted Council.”

“Just what we don’t need. Get Fenris and Invictus so we can be together whenever the Bann plays his hand.” Meneris took Dorian’s hand again, tired of things before anything had properly begun.

“At once,” nodded Arden and darted away.

“We felt I ought to be the one in white for any confrontation,” explained Anders as he straightened the cowl of his robes and tugged at one sleeve. “We can’t afford him making a misstep or having to confer with me in the middle of a confrontation.”

Fenris approached, doing a near double take when he realized the switch. “So it’s serious?”

“I wonder if I can appeal to the Bann as one Ferelden to another?” Vic wondered.

Anders glanced around. “Hang on, I see Bann Ferrenly. Teagan must have brought quite the sizeable deputation from the Landsmeet. I wonder what Alistair and Anora must make of this? I may be able to get Ferrenly, at least, to see reason.”

“Bann Ferrenly? Why do I know that name?” Vic said as he followed Anders over to speak with the other man.

“I saved his life during my first escape from the tower, when I was thirteen,” replied Anders. As they drew closer to the nobleman, he called out to him. “Ah, Bann Ferrenly? A moment of your time?”

Ferrenly turned and gave Anders a quizzical look. “Grand Enchanter?”

Anders gave him a hesitant smile. “Perhaps you remember when I was of much lesser stature in the world. A thirteen-year-old boy who just wanted to go home? It _was_ thirty years ago.”

Ferrenly’s eyes widened. “Dear Maker, it’s _you_! The boy who escaped from the tower and saved my life! I should be dead if not for you!”

“The name is Anders, ser,” replied Anders. “I’ve grown somewhat since then.” He smiled.

“And how!” laughed Ferrenly, clapping him on the arm. “My word - you’ve done well for yourself since then, I see! And it was you who created all this upheaval with the mages and templars?”

“Well, not entirely on my own,” shrugged Anders, his smile becoming slightly lopsided.

“Well, the old system had to change,” sighed Ferrenly as he shook his head. “It felt very wrong to just hand you back to those templars like that, after you’d saved my life.”

“Not your fault,” Anders assured him. “You couldn’t have stopped them. Things will be different now though.”

“I’m glad of it,” nodded Ferrenly. “If there’s anything I can do to assist, name it.”

“Actually, there is,” nodded Anders with a glance to Invictus.

“First Enchanter Invictus Hawke; pleased to meet you Bann Ferrenly.” Vic gave him a firm handshake and brilliant smile. “We’re hoping you can help us be a bit more persuasive.”

“Ah, Bann Teagan’s deputation, you mean?” said Ferrenly, and sighed. “You have to understand, the Inquisition is extremely unpopular in Ferelden. Teagan’s only saying what everyone is thinking.”

“How is it so unpopular? I thought the Inquisitor had mended fences over the whole allowing mages to join freely thing at the start of everything? What else could they be so unhappy about?” Invictus asked.

Ferrenly glanced at Anders with an apologetic look. “It was that business in Redcliffe,” he sighed. “All that mess over the mages and that Tevinter magister. What with all the upheaval over the Mage-Templar War and then that - well, when King Alistair ordered the mages to leave, it was a pretty popular move in Ferelden. The Landsmeet is rather... _unhappy_ over the way the Inquisition took on the mages.” He gave Anders an unhappy look. “Not _all_ the banns are against the mages - but we would rather the Inquisition were disbanded now the threat from Corypheus is ended.”

“There are still Rifts, and other threats besides Corypheus. We know that the Venatori are still a threat; do they really think they just slunk off after he was defeated? Maker, how are these people still in charge?” Vic said. 

“The Venatori are no longer the cohesive force they were when Corypheus ruled them,” disagreed Ferrenly. “They can be dealt with as and when they show up - but there’s a lot of resentment over the way the Inquisition just rules over everyone, seemingly without answering to any higher authority except perhaps the Divine - and the Inquisition even took it upon themselves to appoint Her Worshipfulness! Ferelden, at least, prefers not to be ruled over by some non-Ferelden military power - we had enough of that with the Orlesians, after all! Fereldens are an independent lot and we feel that the Inquisitor should not need so much power any longer. He is capable of dealing with such rifts as remain without a huge military force behind him. We’re not fighting a war for the future of Thedas any longer, after all.” Ferrenly’s tone of voice had gradually become sterner as he spoke, and Anders glanced to Invictus, worried.

“But King Alistair rules the country, not the Inquisition. That makes no sense, Bann Ferrenly. The Inquisition has a presence but it’s not seeking to take over,” Invictus said with a worried glance to Anders.

“It has too much power - Inquisition forces are present in every country across the south and all through the Free Marches - in fact, everywhere except the Tevinter Imperium, and apparently they even have an embassy there as well,” argued Ferrenly. “If Orlais were to march their armies around the way the Inquisition does, they’d be at war with over half of Thedas in very short order! The Inquisition is a military power that has powers and privileges not awarded to any other army anywhere else in Thedas, and a lot of people think the time has come to curtail that power.” Ferrenly folded his arms with an air of stubbornness, He turned to Anders.

“Grand Enchanter, I have no quarrel with you or with your plans for this College of Enchanters - indeed, I wholeheartedly support your endeavour and I’ve said as much both to the Landsmeet and the King himself. But it’s time for the Inquisition to be disbanded. On this, I am in full agreement with Bann Teagan I’m afraid. Now, if you will excuse me?” He gave Anders a polite bow. “First Enchanter Hawke,” he added, giving Invictus a slightly shallower bow before turning and hurrying off to join the other banns.

“It’s worse than we thought,” said Anders. “If even moderates like Ferrenly are on Teagan’s side, then this is not going to go well.”

“Well, shit,” was all Vic had to say.

“Come on, let’s go find Meneris,” said Anders. “He’s not going to like this.”

Anders’ prediction was correct; once the Grand Enchanter had hastily relayed to him what Bann Ferrenly had said, the Inquisitor’s brow furrowed into a deep frown.

“Ferrenly is one of the few who’s openly supported the College of Enchanters,” Anders finished. “If even he stands with Teagan... well. This is going to be unpleasant.”

“I regret this trip more and more with each moment. Come on, let’s get this farce over with,” Meneris said tiredly.

“Do you need us to remain at your side or do you think this will be an affair where we’re kept apart?” Fenris asked as they started inside.

“No idea, but they can’t prevent my presence, at least,” replied Anders. “They can’t stop the Grand Enchanter being present any more than they could stop the Divine.”

“If they think I’ll be kept aside, they are sorely mistaken,” Fenris rumbled. 

“Let’s not give them even more ammunition, let’s get inside before we have to be called for,” Invictus added. 

As they entered the great hall, Anders glanced around and felt his heart sink. It looked as though Bann Teagan and his fellow Fereldens were set on turning this into a very public confrontation; the hall was crowded with dignitaries from all countries, many of them high-ranking ambassadors and nobility. He sighed inwardly whilst keeping his face neutral.

Fenris fell into a parade rest next to Anders, his gaze roaming over the Ferelden delegation as they waited. 

“Well this is going to be fun.” Meneris said as they approached.

“Not as much fun as it would be if I’d had at least one more glass of wine,” murmured Dorian drily. “Still, I suppose watching a bunch of Fereldens have a temper tantrum is moderately more amusing than watching my own mother have one, I’ll grant you that.”

“Later for that,” Fenris said quietly.

Meneris approached the dais and gave them a bow. “Afternoon Bann Teagan, esteemed leaders of Ferelden. Might I ask why you wished to start things off on such a dour note?” 

Teagan grinned at the elven leader and indicated he should sit. “You know why Inquisitor Lavellan; don’t play coy with us. The Inquisition needs to be reigned in, culled from our lands. You have no reason to have forces there with the threat diminished.” 

“Maker, I have the feeling this is going to turn ugly,” breathed Anders to Invictus. He glanced around. “I can’t help but notice most of the Orlesians look decidedly unfriendly as well. Is that towards us or the Fereldens though, I wonder?”

“None of them like us,” Fenris remarked.

“If you’d wanted us gone, you merely had to have asked, Bann Teagan; surely there’s no need for all this.” Meneris said before he noticed Divine Victoria’s entrance had silenced the other nobles.

Anders tugged his robes straight and brushed a speck of dirt from one sleeve before straightening his back and shoulders and striding forward. He moved to greet Leliana with a quiet word, bowing to kiss her ring of office before she smiled at him and bestowed a kiss to either cheek and nodded, murmuring something back, before he turned slightly and offered her his arm. She took it and they approached together.

“Nicely done,” murmured Dorian in quiet approval. “The Grand Enchanter and the Divine presenting a united face, hey? I wonder what Anders is up to.”

“Whatever it is, none of the Fereldens look pleased,” Fenris said before he gave the Divine a bow. “Greetings, Most Holy.” 

“Ambassador Hawke, it is good to see you again,” she smiled at him as she held out her hand with her signet ring of office.

Fenris didn’t make a face as he gave her ring a kiss and straightened. “I am glad to see you here.”

“It appears I have arrived just in time,” she replied softly, glancing to the Ferelden delegation. She nodded to Invictus and Zevran; Dorian bent to kiss her ring and she smiled. “Come, let us go join the Inquisitor. It appears the Exalted Council will begin earlier than we had planned.” 

“Very glad to see you, and such impeccable timing.” Fenris followed at Dorian’s side as they waited for the others to begin. 

“Now that everyone is here, perhaps we can actually start this Council meeting?” Meneris said.

They took their places as others moved forward to kiss Divine Victoria’s ring before taking their places at the table also.

“So what exactly is it you want of the Inquisition? Surely we weren't summoned here for a social call,” Meneris said as Josephine hovered nearby.

Bann Teagan leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the elven Inquisitor. “The Inquisition has established a military presence in Ferelden that remains there, even though we are all well aware that the threat of Corypheus - the very reason for the Inquisition’s existence, might I remind you - has been ended.”

“True, but there are still remnants of the Venatori threat, as well as enemies of the Inquisition. However, you are acting as if we are planning on taking over Ferelden at the drop of a hat, Bann Teagan. Surely this could have been resolved before it came to all this?” Meneris said.

The Ferelden lord scoffed as he leaned back to stare at the elf. “You think Orlais was so polite before it took our lands? Do you think we have reason to believe you’d do us the courtesy?” Teagan asked.

“Well, yes. We are not enemies of Ferelden or Orlais. Surely you can realize that we would have pulled our forces if you’d sent word of the unrest caused by their presence? Does nothing you know of Commander Rutherford matter?” Meneris didn’t flinch even as his mark flashed dark green against his other palm.

Anders nearly jumped out of his skin when Zevran suddenly laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly just beside his ear; so intent had he been on the altercation between the Bann and the Inquisitor that he’d been oblivious to anything else.

“There is something that you should all see,” the Antivan murmured, his voice pitched to reach both Anders and Leliana but no further. As Anders glanced to him, Zevran had lifted his head a little and had caught the eye of Josephine. He lifted one hand to make three small gestures, and as Anders glanced back to her he saw the Antivan ambassador’s eyes widen in understanding before she turned to murmur to Meneris.

The Inquisitor glanced at the Divine and Bann Teagan as he listened to his right hand. As she finished he rose and gave them a rather put upon smile. “If you will excuse me, there is an urgent matter that cannot wait. I will leave you in the capable hands of Ambassador Montilyet, who I authorize to speak on my behalf until I may deal with this matter and return. If I may be so bold, I believe Divine Victoria’s attention is also needed.” Meneris rested a hand on Josephine’s shoulder and quietly reminded her that he trusted her implicitly to handle things for a while.

The Divine rose to her feet. “Grand Enchanter, would you accompany us please?” she requested.

Anders nodded as he rose to his feet. “Of course, my lady,” he answered. He glanced to Fenris and Invictus, then turned and followed Meneris and Zevran as he walked beside Divine Victoria.

Zevran led them to a quiet anteroom and gestured for them to enter, then closed the door behind them.

“Zevran, what’s going on?” asked Anders.

“We have... a problem,” said Zevran slowly.

“It has to be a huge problem if you interrupted the proceedings. What’s going on?” Meneris asked. 

Zevran’s expression was grave as he walked towards a door at the far end of the room. He opened it as they followed him, mystified until they saw the Qunari warrior in full armour that lay dead upon the floor.

“Would that be huge enough for you, Inquisitor?” the Antivan inquired quietly.

“Andraste’s flaming arsehairs,” breathed Anders, then stared at the Divine with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, that was... oh Maker. I am so, so sorry.” He blushed, mortified at having spoken so blasphemously in front of the Divine, even though they were old friends. Something about her formal robes had disarmed him and put him a little off-kilter.

The Divine merely smiled at him briefly. “I think under the circumstances your exclamation is... understandable, Anders,” she replied, before glancing back at the dead body, the smile dying. “Yes, Zevran, this is indeed quite the sizeable problem.”

Fenris had followed behind and swore when he saw the Qunari body. “No...they have no reason to be here.” He glanced to Invictus then back to the dead body. “May I?’

“The blood is quite fresh,” remarked Zevran.

“Yes, so I see,” nodded the Divine as she crouched down to inspect the body herself. “Still warm, too. It cannot have been here long.”

Fenris shuffled from one foot to the other as he waited for either Zevran or Leliana to reply. Invictus came over and tried to get him to settle. “Don’t do this to yourself, please.”

“I’m doing nothing, I merely wished to check the body since I know some Qunari methods of killing,” Fenris replied.

“These injuries were not merely inflicted by a blade I think,” said the Divine slowly.

“No,” agreed Zevran. “But look - there, see, the blood?”

“I think Leliana and Zevran probably have this well in hand,” murmured Anders quietly to the others. “There’s probably very little they won’t pick up from the body - watching the two of them together is... a little frightening. I’m rather glad Zevran’s not her Left Hand - can you imagine what they’d be like together if he were?”

Fenris turned away and waited outside the door so he wouldn’t let himself hope that maybe, just maybe it was a lead. 

Invictus sighed as he watched the elf go but didn’t argue it. They had other problems, rather a large, dead one that had thankfully stopped the proceedings. He watched them examine the corpse impatiently, eager to see what they found.

“How did this Qunari get in, that’s my question,” Meneris asked. 

Zevran straightened and glanced back towards the door for a moment, then turned to Meneris. “You will not like this news, I am afraid,” he said softly. “The trail of blood leads to a room not far from here.” He sighed softly. “Come.” He turned and headed down the passageway, following the trail of blood.

“We’re not going to like it?” wondered Anders very quietly to Invictus. “Or _Fenris_ isn’t going to like it? Which makes me like it even less, and I have no idea what ‘it’ is!”

“Fenris already doesn’t like it.” the elven warrior said as he fell in next to his spouse and followed along. 

Zevran led them to another room and pushed the door open. He glanced to Fenris briefly, then turned to Meneris. “It seems we were correct when we estimated that there must be more Eluvians than we had accounted for - and that some, at least, must be functioning.” He gestured to the tall, ornate mirror that stood within the room.

Anders swore softly to himself then stepped aside, well clear of the door and gestured to Invictus to do likewise.

The elven warrior stopped a couple feet shy of the mirror, hand out immediately to touch it before a call from Zevran stopped him. He looked at his Antivan spouse before he dropped his hand. “Zevran...I ...what if?” he asked quietly. 

“We cannot know that it is connected, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran replied quietly. “We have no way of knowing if he was acting alone or if he took Hal under orders.”

“What is this?” asked Leliana as she stepped into the room, her gaze sharp as it rested upon Zevran, looking more like the former Spymaster of the Inquisition than Divine Victoria of the Chantry in spite of her pristine robes.

“This isn’t the first Qunari to come through an Eluvian,” said Anders heavily. “Not long before your summons to the Exalted Council arrived, we’d received word from the latest of Zevran’s messengers to let us know that they’d failed to find one of our people - Hal, the young healer. He was taken some months ago - by, we believe, the Iron Bull, who entered Skyhold through the Eluvian in the Undercroft. We surmised then that there must be other functioning Eluvians we hadn’t known about, besides the ones we’d destroyed in Kirkwall and the one we travelled back to Skyhold from Mythal’s pool through. We thought at first that perhaps Iron Bull was acting alone - but this....” Anders gestured to the trail of blood and then the Eluvian, “...would suggest otherwise.”

“I ask to be dismissed for now, as I cannot perform my duties with a clear head, Inquisitor,” Fenris said as he stared at the flat, dull surface of the Eluvian. 

“What? We need you Fenris--” Meneris was cut off when Dorian tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“ _Amatus_ , look at him,” the Tevinter mage said softly. “Does he _look_ like he’d be any use to you right now? In any case, the Council is temporarily in recess for a break, thankfully; no-one will be expecting to see the Inquisition’s ambassador to Tevinter in public for a little while at least.” He glanced at the Eluvian. “I saw the dead Qunari back there; I take it that Bull’s little incursion was only the beginning then?”

“We don’t know what that was,” said Anders quietly from his position by the door. “It may be connected, it may not. We still don’t know enough. What use would the Qunari have for him if not to invade Skyhold? They must know that we’d have noticed him missing by now, after all - and that we’d take steps to secure the Eluvian in case any more come through. Do we know for certain the Bull did go back to the Qunari?”

“No, we do not,” replied Zevran dourly. “The Bull was Ben-Hassrath; he may still be, perhaps. Where he went to, we cannot be certain. My agents found no trace of him.”

“Go on Fenris, I’ll find you after dinner,” Meneris said before he looked to his spymaster. “Zevran, do what is needed, I’ll go back to the Council and relieve Josephine. Have a report for me by the time we settle for the night; Anders - with Dorian and I, please?” 

Fenris left for the quarters they’d been assigned to so he could be ready to face them in a few hours. 

Zevran nodded to the Inquisitor, as Leliana turned and headed back up the passageway, holding her white robes clear of the drying blood upon the floor. Anders was staring at the Eluvian with a troubled look, but at Meneris’ request he straightened and nodded, turning to follow them. He belatedly remembered to lift up the hem of his long white robe as the Divine had, before it could drag through the crimson trail upon the tiled floor.

Meneris led the way back in to the meeting, taking his place with an apology first to Josephine before he turned to those assembled. “I apologize ladies and gentlemen for the interruption. You once more have my undivided attention.” 

“So glad you could grace us with your presence once more, Inquisitor,” remarked Bann Teagan with what was almost a sneer.

Anders sank down into his seat next to the Divine and managed to suppress a sigh. 

***

Fenris had stretched out on one of the divans to try and relax as he waited for the others but his mind wouldn’t let him rest. He sat up at the door opening, a dagger at the ready in case it wasn’t his spouses.

“Don’t start throwing knives around, it’s just us,” Invictus said as he led Anders in. “I know Zevran insisted on basics for us, but relax love.”

“You know I’ve got terrible aim, I’d probably have taken out whoever came behind you rather than my target. I don’t throw knives, not after Zevran gave up on teaching me.” Fenris laid back with a sigh. “What happened when I left you?”

“More of what happened earlier - which is to say, Bann Teagan snarled a whole lot, Meneris snarled back only slightly more politely - at first, at any rate - and the rest of us tried to keep the whole thing from blowing up out of hand,” Anders sighed as he dropped down to sprawl upon the nearest bed. “Ow, Maker. Those chairs may seem comfortable to sit on at first, but after several hours sitting there between the Inquisitor on one side and Teagan on the other, and all the Orlesians practically salivating at the whole thing, my back hates me.” He groaned quietly.

“It’s not good, though,” he added after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling. “The Fereldens want the Inquisition totally disbanded and gone. And the Orlesians want the Inquisition to become an extension of _their_ army. Which went down about as well as you can imagine when the Fereldens put two and two together and worked out what the Orlesians were saying without actually coming out and, y’know, actually _saying_ it. Maker, for once I think I was actually glad of that damned Game of theirs, because if the Fereldens had worked out what they were up to right at the start then we’d have had war on our hands right there in the hall. No-one told me when we left Skyhold that I’d find myself having to talk a bunch of bloodthirsty nobles out of starting a war, but somehow that’s what I found myself doing. My penance for having started one, I suppose.”

“So it’s worse than I thought. The only worse thing that could have happened would be if Dorian said Tevinter wanted to annex the Anderfels again,” Fenris said. “So what now?”

“We try again after a good night’s sleep and hopefully, more information on what that qunari was doing before he became a rather unattractive decoration.” Vic said as he sat with his warrior.

Anders glanced over at Invictus as his husband spoke. “I wonder what else Zevran was able to find?” he mused. “The trail of blood led _away_ from the Eluvian. That means whatever killed that Qunari, he came through the Eluvian to get _away_ from it.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It may even have been sheer coincidence that he ended up here at all. Unless he was sent here as a warning. But a warning from whom? Of what?” He sighed. “It’s a mystery.”

“One that I would rather solve and be on our way.” Fenris griped.

“I know love, I know.” Vic gave his grumpy elf a kiss as he rose to put on something less formal for dinner.

“Hopefully Zevran will have answers by the time we see him - or at least something to go on,” said Anders as he sat up with a wince. He pressed a hand to the small of his back and let a little trickle of magic ease the worst of the stiffness in his back before he rose to take off his Grand Enchanter’s robes.

“Forgive me if I show little enthusiasm for whatever he finds,” Fenris said as he rose to change as well. 

“Right now it would be a welcome distraction from yet more politicking over the dinner table,” groused Anders.

“For you perhaps Anders,” Fenris said as he pulled a fresh tunic out. “Sorry that I’m not really good company; news of the Eluvians has gotten to me, and I’d rather not repeat both of you pulling me back from the edge.” 

“Can I distract you love?” Vic asked as he looked over at his men.

“No, my heart wouldn’t be in it,” Fenris answered. 

Anders wandered back over to the bed he’d chosen - by dint of it being the first one he’d come to - and dropped down onto it, rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m not cut out for this diplomacy stuff,” he sighed.

“Nor am I, when I have to be honest. I am better with a sword in my hand than sharp words and intrigue.” Fenris replied as he crawled in bed and curled against Anders.

“I’ve never been good at this crap, especially when I was Champion.” Vic added from where he’d settled in. 

“There was some politicking in the Circle - particularly between senior enchanters,” said Anders, his eyes still on the ceiling as he curled an arm around Fenris’ shoulders. “But I was so intent on getting out - or else in a cell after they’d caught me - to get drawn into it. And we didn’t get embroiled in that kind of behaviour in the Wardens - you have to be able to trust your fellow Wardens had your back. Solona would have had our guts for garters if we’d pulled shit like that whilst we were hunting darkspawn; it could get a fellow Warden killed. This? I’m woefully out of my depth. Arden’s far better at it than I am. He seems to have a natural flair for diplomacy.”

“Who does?” asked the blond former champion as he entered at that moment.

“You do,” replied Anders.

Arden snorted. “I had to learn the hard way when I was trying to juggle the nobles’ demands and the Arishok,” he replied.

“Want to be me for a while then? I am terrible at the Game.” Vic asked hopefully.

Fenris didn’t answer, he simply got closer to Anders as he listened to their chatter.

Anders smiled faintly and hugged Fenris to his side. “Tired, love?” he asked softly.

The elf glanced at Anders then sighed. “More than that but I am already on edge and just need to be close to you.” Fenris admitted softly.

Anders shifted so he was lying on his side, facing Fenris, the elf pressed against his chest as the blond mage wrapped his other arm around the white-haired warrior’s waist. Fenris was decidedly more of an armful since his transformation, Anders mused; he could have curled up quite easily in the elf’s arms. But he stared into Fenris’ green eyes and gently kissed him.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be right there with you, love,” he said softly. “Just as I always have.”

“Thank you love.” Fenris replied as he closed his eyes and tried to keep himself together. He was feeling anxious and off-kilter but he’d resolved not to make things about him. Especially since there was nothing to be done about the Eluvians and Hal. 

“Do you two want some time alone?” Vic offered.

Anders didn’t pull his gaze away from Fenris. “What do you want, love?” he asked. “I’m all yours if you want me. Or Vic could come join us? These beds seem pretty roomy.” He suddenly grinned. “They’re big enough even for our long legs.”

Fenris looked at his husband, then over to Invictus with a guilty glance to Arden “I want to not think for now, but I don’t know if you are up for such things. My mind won’t rest and I’m ...no, never mind. It would be awkward I think, considering how you responded my last request for you both to, to…” he waved his hand at Anders in a rude gesture before getting close as he could to the blond mage. “Hold me for a while, please?”

“Of course, love,” said Anders, his arms tightening around Fenris. Arden was looking at Fenris with a faintly bewildered look.

“I... think I’m missing something here,” he said slowly. He tugged off his senior enchanter’s robes as he stripped down to just a white linen shirt and grey pants then sat down on one of the other beds. “I’m not quite sure if that was an invitation to join you all, or something else,” he confessed. “I’ll admit it’s been... quite a while since I’ve done anything with anyone, and -” He dropped his gaze and blushed before glancing up at Invictus. “I’m... quite... er, fond doesn’t seem quite the right word,” he confessed as he ran a hand through his hair and tugged out the hair tie. “What I’m trying to say - and saying it badly - is that I wouldn’t mind, if that’s what you’re, ah, saying?”

Invictus glanced to Anders and Fenris then to Arden with a rather odd expression. “I...ah, Fenris was asking for something but I think he might---”

The elf cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I would feel self-conscious with you present Arden. You all have fun, I’m too anxious to rest and what I need? I know you can’t give me, though you probably need it more than I do right now.” Fenris rolled over and went for his clothes as he left them to deal with his offer.

Anders sat up and stared after Fenris with a worried look before he glanced to Invictus. Arden was blushing and staring at the ground rather than risk meeting anyone’s gaze.

“You.. you’d want that with us?” asked Anders slowly as he turned to look at Arden before glancing at Invictus. “I... I’m willing, and Maker knows I could do with the distraction, but... love?”

Arden lifted his head slightly and regarded Invictus through a curtain of dark gold hair.

“Only if Fenris is going to be alright with this. Give me a few minutes.” Invictus followed Fenris to where he was dressing and once the elf was done, pulled him to his arms. “What gives?”

“Nothing, I’m not in a place to give a repeat of what we did with him in our world. You and Anders however, should have some fun since he’s eager. I just can’t right now. It’s fine love.” Fenris gave Vic a slow, lingering kiss before he stepped away. “I’m going for a walk, maybe find Dorian if he’s free and give you all some time to play. Have fun, alright?”

Invictus returned to find Anders had stripped off his shirt and boots and was sitting on the edge of his bed facing Arden; they both glanced up as Invictus entered.

“Is Fenris alright?” asked Anders. “Should I go to him?” 

“Not alright, but leave him be for now. He’s in a mood to be off to himself.” Vic said as he shut the door. 

Arden fiddled with the cuff of one sleeve as he looked at Anders, then back at Invictus. “So....” His voice trailed off.

“Come here Arden.” Vic ordered more than asked. 

Arden jerked, startled, as he lifted his head to stare at Invictus; and then suddenly he visibly relaxed as he rose to his feet obediently and walked to stand in front of Invictus, his hands hanging loose at his sides.

“What do you want, tell us and be specific.” Vic said as he tugged the slighter man to him. “Also, get out of these.”

Arden began stripping out of his clothes, dropping them to the floor carelessly. “I want you to both take me,” he said breathlessly. “I want to suck Anders’ cock whilst you fuck me.” He shucked his small clothes then stood up, his face a little flushed as he regarded Invictus. “Or for you both to fuck me at once. I just... I want both of you. Please?” He cast an anxious glance at Anders, who had straightened.

“Well, I’m not adverse to having my cock sucked,” he grinned. “Who am I to turn down an offer like that?” He glanced to Invictus. “What about it, love? Shall we spit him between us like a prize roast?” He smirked. “Though I dare say I’ll be the tasty one.” He shifted back on the bed to rest against the pillows and then lifted his hips to tug down his pants and smallclothes together, revealing his growing erection.

“Well now, I think you have something to do Arden, after you get naked.” Vic leered at him as he pulled at his own clothes and rummaged for oil.

Arden turned and crawled onto the bed as Anders leaned back and got himself comfortable, spreading his legs. Arden settled himself on elbows and knees between Anders’ thighs and wrapped a hand around Anders’ stiffening cock, pumping it slowly as he stared up into Anders’ eyes then leaned forward to swirl his tongue about the sensitive head.

Anders shuddered briefly and gave a low, breathy moan. “Oh fuck, that’s... oh yes,” he murmured, pupils enlarging as he stared down at Arden. “Maker, that’s so....” He broke off with a choked moan as Arden wrapped his lips around his cock and began to slowly sink down, enveloping his cock in moist heat as he ran his tongue down the underside of Anders’ member, never taking his eyes off Anders who found himself mesmerised by Arden’s intense honey-brown gaze.

“Fuck … that’s sexy.” Vic moaned as he approached them. “Oh don’t stop on my account, I’m just gonna use this oil while you work.” 

Arden didn’t stop, merely spread his legs as his head bobbed slowly up and down over Anders’ cock as Anders reached out and grasped a handful of Arden’s hair and keened softly, twitching slightly. “Oh Maker. Oh Maker,” he managed to gasp out.

“Gonna be a good boy and make him come for me?” Vic purred in Arden’s ear. 

Arden managed to nod around his mouthful of cock before sinking down once more and deliberately swallowing as the head brushed the back of his throat, and Anders’ eyes flew open wide before he shuddered. “Maker... close... gonna... fuck, Arden, Vic....” He was babbling, half-articulate.

“Let go love, give him a nice drink hmm?” Vic said as he slipped a finger into Arden and stroked slowly, counter to how fast the other man was sucking down Anders’ cock. Arden groaned, the sound muffled, and pushed back into Invictus’ hand as he swallowed again. Anders made a strangled keening sound as he fisted his own hair in distraction, his legs quivering.

Arden grinned and slipped a finger into Anders, who gasped raggedly; a moment later, Invictus felt the pull of magic as Arden let fly a spark of electricity and Anders arched up off the bed and came hard, with a ragged scream.

“Good boy… both of you.” Vic said as he slipped a second finger in and sped up. “You want to get fucked Arden? Better ask us, politely.”

Arden lifted his head from Anders’ cock, still swallowing to clear his throat; a long strand of milky white fluid stretched from his wet lips to the head of Anders’ cock. He nodded. “Oh Maker, yes, please, _please_ fuck me!” he managed to gasp after a moment. 

Anders had flopped back, panting raggedly. “Give me ten minutes and I can go again,” he panted.

“Oh Maker,” Arden whimpered. “Both of you - please, please!”

Anders eyed him and barked a brief laugh of surprise. “Maker, just how long has your dry spell been?”

“Nearly... nearly two years at least,” Arden whimpered.

“Maker, we have a long time to make up for then.” Vic said as he slipped a third finger in. “While he recovers I’m gonna get you open.” 

Arden shivered and closed his eyes. “Oh... _oh..._ yes, yes!” he panted, stretching his legs a little further apart. “Please. I need your cock - I need it so much!”

“Very keen,” observed Anders with a grin. “Better give the man what he wants, love.”

“Yes, before he launches himself at one of us.” Vic said as he slicked himself up and entered Arden with a groan. “Tight… so damn tight.” 

Arden cried out with a shudder as he felt himself stretched and filled by the thick, heavy girth of Invictus’ cock as it drove into him, deeper and fuller than his fingers had reached inside. barely perhaps half-aware of what he was doing, he reached for Anders distractedly; Anders sat up, and Arden cupped a hand to his jaw then kissed him hungrily, catching Anders’ bottom lip with his teeth and tugging slightly as he swept his tongue across Anders’ mouth.

Anders’ eyes widened in surprise and then closed as he moaned almost helplessly into the kiss, one hand coming up to thread long slender fingers into Arden’s soft silky hair, so like his own.

“Did you really want us both to fuck you at the same time?” Vic rasped in his ear as he sped his strokes, eager to make Arden fall to pieces.

Arden released Anders’ mouth and gasped, “Yes - fuck, yes!”

Anders’ free hand had already gone to his half-erect cock and as he fisted it, it began to grow hard once more. Anders let his head drop back as he closed his eyes and groaned.

“Anders... Anders, let me ride you,” begged Arden. “I want to ride your cock as Invictus fucks me. Please - please!”

Anders managed to call up a touch of creation magic to fill his palm with grease as he fell back against the pillows and slicked up his cock. As Invictus carefully pulled out of Arden for the moment, one hand steadying the blond mage with a gentle grip on his hip, Arden shifted forward to straddle Anders who lay back, staring up at Arden with half-lidded eyes.

Arden put one hand behind himself to guide Anders’ cock to his entrance, then slowly sank down onto Anders, who let out a low litany of swears as he felt his cock slowly sheathed in Arden’s hot inviting tightness.

“Invictus,” panted Arden as he leaned forward a little and lifted himself slightly up upon Anders’ cock.

“Easy, easy...we want this to feel good for you.” Vic said as he added more oil and started to ease back into Arden, slowed by how good it felt when he slipped against Anders cock,the blond mage groaning at the feel. Anders was having to fight hard against the urge to snap his hips up into Arden; he was panting, fists clenched into the sheets.

Arden was gasping faint little cries as he felt himself filled and stretched more than he could ever remember feeling before. He clutched at his hair distractedly, reaching back with his other hand clumsily to touch Invictus and ground himself. “Sweet An-Andraste,” he finally managed to whimper. “Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes.”

“Easy… don’t want this to hurt. Go slowly up and down, until we find a rhythm.” Vic moaned as he kept himself from rutting into Arden fast and hard.

“You - you set the pace,” Anders agreed.

“Just - just give me a moment,” murmured Arden. Anders laughed breathlessly.

“Feels amazing, doesn’t it? Overwhelming?” he asked. 

Arden nodded as he tossed his head to get a stray lock of sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, a bit,” he agreed breathlessly. “Maker.”

“This your first time trying it like this?” asked Anders gently; Arden nodded. “It’s OK, we’ll just take it easy,” Anders said reassuringly, his voice calm and low despite his own breathlessness. “That’s it - nice and easy.”

Arden leaned forward a little, sliding up over their cocks, then thrust down onto them with a low cry. He rocked into the feel, shuddering as his body was stretched and impaled with each downward thrust, the sensations threatening to overwhelm him as his perfect point of sensitive nerves was grazed over and over again, heat coiling heavy and insistent in his groin as he began to pick up the pace.

“Vic... counterpoint,” Anders managed to gasp; his legs were trembling a little with the strain. “So we - we alternate.”

“Fuck, yes,” begged Arden. “Fuck me hard!”

“If I don’t come in a few seconds….sure.” Vic moaned as he waited for Anders to finish his stroke before he followed. 

With Anders’ hands bracing him at the shoulders and Invictus’ grip upon his hips, Arden was held immobile and helpless as Anders and Invictus picked up the speed of their strokes until he was being pounded mercilessly and steadily until finally he came hard, his seed coating Anders’ chest and throat and splashing his face even as Anders threw his head back with a loud cry, shuddering, and Invictus felt a hot wet slickness coating his own cock as he continued to thrust into Arden’s body.

Invictus followed right after Anders with a few swears of his own as he filled Arden. “Oh...Maker...Andraste..” he panted.

Arden had collapsed forward into Anders’ arms, heedless of the sticky white mess across Anders’ torso; both men were gasping raggedly. Anders’ cock was still buried inside Arden, slowly softening against Invictus’ member.

“Relax, I’m going to pull away slowly and get us some cloths to clean up and water. Just lie down once I’m off the bed.” Vic pressed gentle kisses to the back of Arden’s neck before he rose.

Arden whimpered as he felt Invictus slip out of him; Anders ran a hand slowly and soothingly up his back, and he quietened. Anders lay with his eyes closed, focusing on getting his breathing back under control. After a few moments, he made to slip out of Arden’s body, but the younger mage clutched at him.

“No, please - I want to stay like this a little longer,” he begged quietly. Anders lays still again.

“Alright,” he agreed, his tone still gentle and reassuring. “Whatever you need. It’s OK.” He glanced down at the other man. “Are you alright? That wasn't too hard or too rough? Any pain anywhere?”

Arden was silent a moment, then quietly chuckled. “Ever the healer, Anders,” he teased softly. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be a little sore, and likely walking a little stiffly tomorrow - but it’s alright. Maker knows I needed that.”

“Alright,” said Anders as he relaxed again. “I’m glad we were able to do that for you.”

After a moment of quiet in which neither man spoke, Anders swept his tongue across his lower lip. “Arden,” he said slowly. “You kissed me.”

“Ah,” replied Arden. “That. Um. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have -”

“No, no, it’s alright,” said Anders mildly. “I didn’t mind - it was actually quite nice. I just wasn’t expecting it, was all.”

“Anders is a very good kisser.” Vic said as he sat next to them and started to clean Arden up. “I know you’re enjoying this but you’ll both be a mess if you don’t let Anders up.”

Arden made a complaining, grumbling sound, but after a moment he relented and lifted himself up off Anders’ limp cock and lay down beside him. Anders sat up slowly and stared down at the drying, sticky mess, then ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. 

“Maker’s sakes - how did you get it in my _hair?_ ” he exclaimed.

“Told you it had been a while,” smirked Arden as he let Invictus finish cleaning him up. He rolled over onto his back so Invictus could get to the mess on his stomach where he’d lain atop Anders in his own spend.

“I think I’m going to go take a bath,” Anders sighed. “Just pray I don’t fall asleep in there.” He rose from the bed and strode in the direction of the suite’s bathroom.

“That was fantastic,” sighed Arden happily. “Thanks. That was... Maker.”

“I’ll check on you in a bit, I could use a bath too.” Vic said with a leer the other man sadly missed. 

“How are you doing, the truth.” he queried while he wiped Arden down.

Arden pondered the question. “Mostly it’s alright,” he said slowly. “Mostly I can fool myself into thinking this is my Thedas. But there are times when it does feel very lonely. And Hal....”

He sat up with a troubled expression. “I’ve been sleeping poorly,” he confessed. “Hal haunts my dreams. I can’t get them out of my head. Hal, kneeling in this cavern somewhere, a big metal collar around his throat. His eyes and lips sewn shut - it’s... Maker, it’s horrible.” He shook his head and shuddered. “Even with his lips sewn, he’s trying to talk - he’s calling me, but try as I might it’s like someone cast a paralysis glyph on my feet. I can’t move.”

“I’m getting you a sleeping draught or putting you under after that.” Vic shuddered. “Don’t tell Anders or Fenris your nightmare, they...won’t deal with it well. I’m afraid of what Fenris will do if he thinks there’s a chance to get Hal back.”

“I’m afraid,” Arden confessed. “I know Hal said his spirit - Endrin - he said he’s gone, so he shouldn’t be a somniari any more, but... Invictus, I can’t help but wonder. What if it’s not just a dream? What if Hal’s really trying to call out to me through the Fade?” He shook his head. “I’ve been having the dream for months - since shortly after he was taken. I haven’t breathed a word to anyone until now, and I’ll not say a thing to Anders or Fenris. I know they’d take it badly.”

“I’m very worried about Fenris, hopefully he will be in a better frame of mind when he returns.” Vic said.

“To be honest, I’m not actually much better,” said Arden quietly. “But during my time as a prisoner in Starkhaven, I learned to keep a lot of stuff inside - to not show it. If they saw you react, that just gave them something to hold over you. A bit like the Circle, only worse in so many ways. A Circle where you’re in solitary all the time apart from when the bastards are torturing you, with no prospect of ever escaping except through dying.” Arden shuddered. “I got pretty good at not showing stuff. I’ll cope, and I’ll keep up the whole show for those Orlesian bastards out there and those fucking Ferelden ingrates, but I just want to find Hal and then go somewhere safe with him where we can both fall to pieces.” He made an odd little gasping sound that was almost a strangled sob as he turned his face away from Invictus.

“Come here, let me hold you for a bit?” Vic gently pulled Arden into his arms and held him. “I’m sorry, I wish we could find him for his sake, yours and Fenris’. If there’s a chance to get him back, you know we’ll take it.” 

Arden stiffened as Invictus hugged him, and then abruptly slumped against the other man as his body shuddered and he drew a gasping breath. Invictus could feel Arden’s body shaking and realised the man was sobbing silently, his hands pressed to his mouth, hot wet tears running down his face.

“What can I do for you?” Vic asked softly. He glanced at the bathing chamber door in the hopes Anders would reappear. It seemed their pleasant diversion had not helped his counterpart.

Arden shook his head, unable to speak for the sobs he continued to stifle, the only sound his ragged breathing.

Anders wandered back in, a towel tied loosely about his hips as he combed his wet hair with his fingers. He halted as he took in the sight of the two men, and then he hurried over and dropped to his knees in front of them. “Arden? What’s wrong?” he asked, and then his voice dropped back into the calm, gentle, reassuring tone he’d used earlier. “Hey, it’s alright. I know being on the receiving end of that can be a bit overwhelming and leave you feeling raw and emotional. It’s alright. You’re safe here.” He smiled gently up at Arden as he rested a hand on the weeping man’s knee. 

Arden grasped for Anders’ hand and laced their fingers together, holding tight.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Arden,” said Anders, concern in his eyes now as he glanced to Invictus. “Vic, what’s wrong? He was fine earlier.”

“He brought up his fears about Hal and it went south.” Vic said softly. 

“Oh Maker,” murmured Anders. “You, he, your Fenris and Anders were all together over there, weren’t you? He was - was like your Zevran, in a way, wasn’t he?”

Arden could only nod his head as he fought back the sobs, his other hand still pressed to his mouth.

“Oh Arden,” sighed Anders. “I’m really sorry. We’ll find Hal, I promise. We won’t rest until he’s safe again, I swear it. Fenris would rip the world apart to find him, I know.”

“Do you want to sleep here for a while? Will you be alright if one of us rests with you for a bit?” Vic said quietly.

Arden drew a deep breath, coughed a little, and lowered his hand as he took another deep breath. “Tired,” he managed, his voice thick. “I - yes. Sleep. Please.” He nodded.

“I could use a rest myself,” admitted Anders. “Shall we go to my room? Unless Fenris is using it?” He glanced to Invictus.

“Sure, I think he might be wandering around still since he said he was restless.” Vic replied. 

“Alright; come on - you can come sleep with me,” decided Anders. He got to his feet, wincing as his knees creaked a little, then helped Arden up. He leaned over to kiss Invictus. “Coming to join us love, or did you want to go check on Zevran? He should be finished by now I think.”

“I’ll check on Zevran and hope he can bring Fenris out of his mood since he won’t listen to us right now. Or give him what he was seeking. I’ll be there in a bit.” Vic gave Anders a slow kiss before leaning in to give Arden a peck on the lips. Arden looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and face still streaked with tears.

“Thank you, Invictus,” he said quietly. “For - for everything.”

“No problem, least I could have done for you. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in a while.” Vic said as he held the door open, watching until they were out of sight.

Anders led Arden to his room and was relieved to find it empty. He closed the door behind them as Arden shuffled over to the large ornate four-poster bed. Anders turned and glanced at the other man as Arden slowly stretched out upon the bed, and the healer sighed softly. He moved to the windows and closed the thick heavy drapes before casting warding glyphs upon each window; then he moved to the bed. 

He crawled across to Arden then curled up against the other man’s back as he drew up the covers over them both, then wrapped his arms around Arden. “Sleep,” he whispered, as he drew on a little touch of magic - just enough to nudge Arden’s weary mind over into slumber. 

He closed his eyes, and soon followed Arden down into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long time between the last chapter and this one - Cypher has been away at WisCon. Have an extra-long chapter to make up for the tardiness in posting!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gets himself into trouble, and an old friend arrives in time to return a favour.

Fenris had wandered around for a few hours, his mind restless as he found himself lost in the wine cellars of the palace, and no clue how to return. “Figures, I usually pay better attention,” he muttered to himself as he made his way outside and right into another hallway. He noticed a spot of light in the corner as he passed by and stopped to check it out.

“There’s barely any light here; what is this?” he asked himself as he tugged a sheet off what seemed to be a mirror, the frame tarnished and the glass slightly warped. The elf lit his brands to get a better look, touched the pane, and swore as the glass flared brightly in reaction to him, his cursing stronger as he was held fast for a moment and then he was tumbling downward.

**

Invictus opened his eyes, confused by the extra blond head next to him since there were no pointed ears. He sat up with a wince as his body reminded him about his rather exciting afternoon before he’d nodded off with Arden between himself and Anders. He slipped out of bed to dress and look for his elven spouses.

He found Zevran passed out on a _chaise longue_ in the parlour of the suite they’d been assigned; the Antivan was curled into a ball, one hand pressed to his forehead in sleep even as the other was curled up to his chest. Zevran was pale, his hair damp with sweat. 

“Zev?” exclaimed Invictus, alarmed and concerned. He’d found the elf earlier as Zevran was deep in discussion with two of the Divine’s personal guards; Zevran had seemed tired, rubbing the back of his neck as he talked with the two women, and it had taken him some time to notice the former Champion waiting. He’d assured Invictus that he was fine and it was only a headache but he would be with them soon; Invictus had taken him at his word and returned to find Arden and Anders deeply asleep, neither stirring as he’d undressed then slipped into the bed to spoon against Arden’s back.

Now, as he stared down at the unconscious elf, he felt a surge of remorse. He should have pressed harder and gotten Zevran to return with him.

He crouched down next to Zevran and cautiously reached out a hand to lightly rest it upon the elf’s shoulder. “Zev? Zevran?” he called softly. “Come on, love - open your eyes?”

Zevran was still for several minutes as Invictus waited, his worry growing; finally his eyelids flickered then the elf opened his golden eyes slowly, his gaze glazed and unfocused.

“Hey,” said Invictus gently, giving the sick man a reassuring smile. “It’s just me. What’s wrong, love?”

“Head... hurts,” Zevran managed quietly in a soft rasp. “Burns... inside. I... I need it... Fenris, where is... Fenris?”

“Oh fuck,” said Invictus, shocked. It had been months since Zevran had gone through withdrawal from Fenris’ lyrium, and he’d seemed fine since. But here he was, clearly suffering a relapse. “Come on, love, let’s get you into a proper bed.”

“Please... I need Fenris,” slurred Zevran. “Lyrium. Can’t think straight....” He shivered, then whimpered faintly as Invictus gently gathered him up in his arms then lifted him, carrying him towards the other bedroom.

Invictus set him down carefully, fearful for what this relapse meant for the elf. “Will a vial of lyri--no, that would kill you. Damnit,” Vic said quietly. “Zevran, how did this happen? It’s been months since you’ve called for Fenris’ markings!”

Zevran had curled up, his arms wrapped around his stomach, teeth gritted as he shivered. “I... I do not know... the headache, it worsened and - ah, I cannot think straight,” he panted. “Lyrium - please, I need it, it burns so!”

“I can’t, I don’t want you to renew your addiction and I dare not give you a vial of lyrium unless I want you to die.” Invictus frowned, unsure if magic would help or make it worse.

Zevran hugged himself tighter and made a noise of frustration. “Then... then... Anders, where is Anders?” He opened his eyes and stared around the room dazedly.

“He’s asleep, but I’ll wake him. Will you be fine for a few moments?” Invictus asked, not wanting to leave the elf alone even for a few minutes.

Zevran gritted his teeth but nodded. “Hurry,” he begged.

Invictus dashed out to the other room to find Anders still asleep, sprawled out, almost crowding Arden against the edge, snoring softly. “I’m sorry,” he said as he approached to shake the blond’s shoulder. “Love, Zevran needs you...he’s asking for lyrium again.”

Anders stopped snoring and opened his eyes blearily, staring about him disoriented until his eyes fell on Invictus. “What?” he said dazedly. He blinked and then slowly sat up. “Lyrium? But....” He suddenly groaned. “Of course. He’ll be prone to relapse from time to time. It happened to Cullen, though the relapses got fewer, and he’s mostly over them. But....” He sighed. “I’m coming, just... just give me a moment.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the pair of pants on the floor near his feet.

“How bad is it?” he asked as he stood, tugging the pants on.

“Headache, sweating, he looks dazed,” Vic replied. “He was calling for Fenris, for lyrium.”

Anders nodded as he reached for his hair tie on the small table near the bed and swept a hand through his hair before tying it back. “Alright, I’m ready. Where is he?”

“I took him to the other bedroom, he was sprawled out on the couch when I woke up.” Vic led the way, his frown deepening when he entered. “Maker...why is he craving it now?”

“Hard to say,” replied Anders as he followed Invictus into the room then halted. 

Zevran had tried to rise from the bed but collapsed upon the floor; he was sprawled upon the rug, attempting to sit up but it seemed his arms were too weak to let him push himself up off the floor. Anders hastened over and knelt down at his side.

“Easy, love; lie still,” he said gently as he reached out for Zevran, hands already glowing blue.

“Anders... I can’t... it burns, why... why does it burn so?” whispered Zevran as he reached out for the mage. Anders tenderly gathered him up into his arms and Zevran rested his head against Anders’ shoulder.

“Hush, rest; let me check and see what’s wrong,” answered the mage as he closed his eyes to feel out with his magic what was wrong. His face grew grave as he glanced up at Invictus.

“Not good,” he said quietly. “I think all the stress of these talks and then pushing himself too hard to uncover what’s going on with these eluvians has reawoken the craving. It’s like... his body is turning on itself. Can you get Arden? Someone needs to let Meneris know we have a problem. Zevran’s going to be fit for nothing for a while. It’s not quite as bad as Cullen was during his last relapse - but only because you found him in time.” He gently smoothed a hand through Zevran’s hair then pressed a kiss to the clammy forehead as Zevran groaned softly. “Easy, love, I’ve got you,” he murmured as he sent waves of soothing, cool healing magic through Zevran’s body to ease the worst of the aching he could sense.

“Of course love, I’ll be back in a bit.” Vic left quickly, idly wondering where their other elven spouse had gotten off to. 

 

****

Dorian glanced up at the door to the suite he shared with Meneris as there came a brisk knock at the door and then it was pushed open by Invictus Hawke without waiting for an answer. Dorian glanced to Meneris, his eyes widening in surprise, before he turned back to face Invictus.

“What in the world is going on?” he exclaimed, and then he stared at Arden as the other Hawke strode in after Invictus, his grim expression matching that of the former Champion.

“Zevran is suffering a relapse of lyrium withdrawal. Seems stress might have been a factor but he’s unwell, to put it mildly,” Vic answered.

“Be blunt, First Enchanter; how unwell is Zevran, exactly?” Meneris asked.

Arden glanced to Invictus then stepped forward as he drew a deep breath. “It’s... very bad,” he said quietly. “Anders is working to make him as comfortable as possible, but his body had turned upon itself in the craving for lyrium. He is... stable, for now, but he will need several days of complete rest.”

Meneris nodded and clamped down on the urge to swear and rage over the setback. He knew there was nothing to be done about it. “Has Fenris been informed? Should he stay away from Zevran while he’s recovering?” he asked instead.

“Fenris hasn’t returned; I’d thought he was with you, Dorian?” Invictus said.

Dorian blinked, startled. “With me? No, I haven’t seen him since he requested to be removed from duty,” he exclaimed. “We assumed he was with you three?”

Invictus glanced at Arden before answering. “He wanted to be off to himself, he mentioned trying to find you if you were free? So...was that the last time any of us saw him?” Vic clamped down on the worry that had sprung up.

“That’s... rather unlike Fenris, isn’t it?” said Arden. “I mean - he does go off to be by himself from time to time, but... he doesn’t just _disappear_ like that, does he?”

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” Dorian replied slowly, glancing to Invictus for confirmation.

“Sometimes he’d go off for a day, three at most but that was in Skyhold where he’s at home. He wouldn’t wander away like this here. Unless...no, he wouldn’t go haring off like that back home,” Vic said slowly as he tried to piece things together. 

“Is it possible he’d have gone home for a bit? He can teleport easily, but would he go all the way back to Skyhold without saying as much to any of us?” Meneris wondered.

Dorian glanced to Arden. “You and I are the only mages here who can teleport independently of Fenris,” he said quietly. 

Arden nodded. “I’ll go,” he replied.

“You’ll need lyrium,” said Dorian as he made his way over to his back and rifled through it until he’d found a couple of vials. He held them out to Arden who took them. “You remember how to cast the portal?”

Arden nodded. “I’ll teleport to my room; I know it the best I think, of all the rooms in Skyhold.”

“I’ll go and sit with Anders and Zevran, let them know what’s happened. I hope we’re just overreacting. Or he’s holed up somewhere sulking or...fell asleep. Anything but this dread I’m feeling,” Vic said.

“I’ll alert the Divine’s guards, discreetly, to be on the lookout for our wayward ambassador,” Meneris said quietly.

As Arden swallowed the two vials of lyrium then prepared to cast the portal, Dorian glanced to Meneris then suddenly twisted off a ring from his finger. “Arden, wait!” he exclaimed as he held the ring out to the blond mage. Arden paused, about to step through the portal; beyond him, they could see the inside of his room. The white-haired Anders was curled up upon the bed but he was sitting up slowly as the portal lit up the room.

“Here, take this,” said Dorian. “Meneris wears its twin. With it, you can call us and tell us what you find.”

Arden took the ring and nodded. “I’ll call the moment I’ve found him - or can confirm he’s not there,” he nodded. He glanced to Invictus, a troubled look upon his face, then took a deep breath and stepped through the portal. It snapped closed behind him with a pop of inrushing air.

Meneris glanced at Invictus, worried as he caught the expression on his First Enchanter’s face. “I’m sure he’s fine, he’s probably just found a spot to sulk and lost track of time. Go back to Anders and Zevran, we’ll come to you once we’ve heard from Arden.”

Invictus nodded quickly before heading back to his husbands, worry in his heart despite the Inquisitor’s words. He returned to find Anders sitting in a chair beside Zevran’s bed, the Antivan elf sleeping deeply. 

Anders glanced up as he entered, with a hopeful expression that fell when he saw the look on Invictus’ face. “Fenris is still missing?” he guessed. 

“Yes, but Arden is checking back at Skyhold and will let Meneris know if he’s there. It’s a wild guess, but I can’t think of anywhere he may have gone if he was feeling off center. He wouldn’t just wander freely around here, so far from home,” Vic said tiredly.

Anders dropped his gaze to the floor, frowning in thought, then glanced up at Invictus. “There’s something I can try, but it’ll take a lot of my energy and strength.” He glanced briefly to Zevran then back to Invictus. “I can try and use my healer’s senses to find him if - if he’s still here somewhere in the palace. It will take me some time, but... I know what he ‘feels’ like, and there can’t be many elves like him with lyrium all through their body.”

“Save that as a last resort love, you’ve already taxed yourself with healing Zevran.” Vic glanced at the sleeping elf, guilty that he’d not asked him to join them earlier. “How bad is he?’

Anders sighed. “He’s stable for now, but he’s going to need to rest as much as possible. He’s been pushing himself too hard - some of the things he rambled, before I put him to sleep....” Anders broke off, shaking his head. “He knows how important Hal is to Fenris. He’s been driving himself on because he’s firmly convinced that the eluvians will lead back to Hal, and he was trying to uncover just how many eluvians there might be and where that qunari could have come from. He was mumbling something about gaatlok as well.”

“Don’t tell Fenris that when we find him, he will feel even guiltier if he realizes that Zevran pushed himself so hard for him and Hal,” Vic said as he dropped in front of Anders’ legs and sighed. “I have a bad feeling about Fenris being missing; please tell me I’m wrong.”

Anders leaned forward to cup Invictus’ cheek with a hand. “Love... let me search. Please. I feel the same, and I feel useless just sitting here. I’ve done all I can for Zevran and... I’m worried.” He shook his head. “No, not just worried... _afraid_.”

“I don’t want to overtax you, in case we need to search here. Sit with me please?” Vic asked as he took Anders hand in his.

“Invictus... if he’s still within the palace, I _know_ I will feel him,” insisted Anders. “Vic... please. Let me try.” He tried to give his husband a smile. “You can hold me whilst I search? Keep me safe?” he suggested quietly.

Vic scowled at the floor before nodding his agreement. “I won’t like it but ...go on,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

Anders slipped down out of his chair to join Invictus upon the floor, pulling the other mage’s arms around himself as he shifted around so he could lean back against Invictus’ chest. “Hold me safe,” he said quietly. “If I’m gone too long, or... or it seems to be taking too much of a toll on me... wake me up. You’ll know when.” He drew a deep breath then closed his eyes, sending out his consciousness with his healer’s senses, reaching out slowly to try and find the life signature of a single elf bound in lyrium. Invictus felt Anders’ body slowly relax into limpness, his breathing slowing and deepening.

Invictus held Anders close to him, anxious over what the other mage might or might not find. He was worried enough for both of them, and if it turned out the elf wasn’t still in the palace, he felt he might very well lose himself.

Time passed, and Anders remained limp and seemingly deeply unconscious for far too long. Invictus was on the verge of trying to shake Anders awake again when the blond mage stirred slightly, a small frown creasing his brow as his breathing quickened slightly.

“Well?” he asked.

Anders groaned faintly as his eyelids fluttered. “Water,” he rasped quietly, then coughed.

Vic untangled himself to grant his husband’s request, anxious over what Anders would say. He watched the blond drink, eager for an answer. He felt his heart sink as Anders set down the water glass and slumped, his head low.

“I... I can’t find him,” whispered Anders hoarsely. “I can’t feel him anywhere. So many people, but... he’s not here.” He lifted a hand to scrub his face. “There’s... something down in the cellars. Something... I felt... Not Fenris, but....”

Invictus blinked, and tried to hear what Anders was saying. “Where could he be?” he said before he took the chair his husband had vacated earlier.

Anders shook his head, then slowly got to his feet, swaying with exhaustion. “He’s not here,” he repeated wearily as he finally lifted his head to gaze at Invictus. “But - I think there’s another eluvian. I think -” He got no further as he swayed then nearly fell, clutching at the nearest upright of the bed to keep from falling. He sat down upon the edge of the bed. “So tired,” he breathed as he leaned against the bed post and closed his eyes.

Invictus helped him to the bed and urged him to lie down. “Rest love, I’ll go see the Inquisitor so he can check with Arden, as well as look into that Eluvian.”

“Vic - Zevran mentioned gaatlok. If more Qunari came through another eluvian....” Anders stared at Invictus, his face drawn and pale.

“I know, I’ll go talk to Meneris right now.” Invictus kissed him on the forehead and withdrew quickly. “Be safe love, I’ll have guards posted on this room and on ours. I’ll be back soon.” 

 

****

Dorian regarded Meneris with worried eyes as Arden’s voice came from the ring upon the elf’s hand.

“... I’m sorry,” Arden said a little breathlessly. “I’ve had the Chargers, the guards, every mage in Skyhold searching - there’s no sign anywhere. Pin is going frantic. Please - please tell me you’ve found some sign of him there?”

“Not yet, I told Invictus we’d--” Meneris glanced up as the door was flung open and Vic strode in. “I’m guessing he’s not here either judging by the look on Invictus’ face. Come back once you’ve gotten Pin calmed down,” Meneris replied.

“That might take me a little while,” replied Arden; somewhere in the background they could hear Pin give a scream of denial. Dorian winced and turned away.

“Can he bring her here? Maybe she can help to look?” Vic asked.

“Just... let me try and get her calmed down,” replied Arden. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.” The stone set into the ring went dark, signifying he’d closed the link at his end.

“I guess by the look upon your face, Anders was unable to sense Fenris anywhere?” said Dorian heavily.

“No, he did the same trick as when we looked for Pin in Skyhold. I’m more than a little freaked out - because Anders sensed what he thought was an Eluvian in the basement. I’d hope that Fenris wouldn’t be so foolish as to jump through but, we saw how he was after Hal was taken. What a damned mess,” Invictus said tiredly.

“Once Arden is back, we’ll go together to find this Eluvian, and hope it’s not still active. I’d think he wouldn’t be so foolish either but he’s never been...right since Hal was taken. Let’s just relax, as best we can until Arden is back.” Meneris poured himself a half glass of wine, and sat next to Dorian with a worried glance at their friend.

 

***

Darkness. All was darkness now. He lifted a trembling hand to his eyes, feeling the stitches - stiff with dried blood, they were rough against his fingertips.

He would have cried out, save for the pain in his lips as they strained against more stitches; he lowered his fingers to press against them, the pierced skin hot and painful to touch. The stitches were infected; he could feel that, and yet he could do nothing about it. The heavy manacles about his wrists and the iron collar about his throat choked off his magic. He could feel it, walled off inside. He could feel tears stinging his closed eyelids, a few managing to leak out to run unchecked down his face as he whimpered close-mouthed.

A large hand grasped his hands and firmly pushed them down before locking them to the chains at his waist. He had no way of telling who it was; he could only whimper again in fear until he felt the large warm, sword-calloused hand cup his cheek.

“Easy there, Kadan,” rumbled a familiar voice. _Bull._ There was a low, soft sigh. “I am sorry. I could not prevent this. Be patient; I will get you out of this soon.”

Hal could only moan in protest. He would go mad if he remained like this any longer. He had no idea how long it had been since the Bull had stolen him away, but he knew it must have been months. How it was he hadn’t yet lost his mind, he had no idea. Perhaps he should be grateful for the collar that nullified his magic; at least it kept him safe from demons. 

He would have laughed at that, if his mouth were not stitched closed, save for one corner.

He felt a straw being pressed gently between his lips at that corner of his mouth. “Drink, Kadan,” rumbled the Bull gently. “You are too thin. You will need your strength.”

He sucked. The liquid was thick and tasteless; it was all he had known for months now, since they stitched his eyes and mouth closed.

He let his mind slip away into that safe place inside, where he could dream of food he could taste, sunlight he could see.

_Fenris. Arden. Please come soon. Please save me from this hell._

 

***

Fenris winced as he tried to sit up and found a blade at his throat. He followed the blade’s path upward until he was staring into the eyes of a Qunari fighter. “ _Where am I?_ ” he managed in Qunlat, wary of his opponent.

“ _That is not for you to ask, stranger_ ,” replied the warrior coolly as he stared with narrowed eyes down at Fenris. The Qunari was easily as big as the old Arishok had been, and wore stylised war paint across his chest. Whoever he was, Fenris knew enough of such designs to realise the Qunari was part of a scouting force of some kind.

“ _On your feet_ ,” ordered the Qunari, evidently coming to some decision. He emphasised his order with a light jab from the immense sword in his hand.

Fenris debating fighting for a moment, but thought better of it. He rose slowly, sure to let the warrior see his hands remained in view, curious about the Qunari he’d seemed to find. He stared at him, hoping the Qunari would tell him something. 

The Qunari straightened slightly. “ _I am Ashaad. Who are you?_ ”

“ _I am Fenris,_ ” he replied, gaze still on the other warrior. 

Ashaad frowned. “ _You are not of the Qun. How is it you know our tongue?_ ”

The elf almost smiled at his question. “ _I am from Seheron, I joined a Tal-Vashoth mercenary company years ago after fleeing my master. I’ve had occasion to use it during my travels._ ”

Ashaad grunted. “ _It is unusual for a basra to master our tongue. Stranger still that you should be the second such to stumble into our midst. How did you get here?_ ”

“ _Through the mirror - the Dalish call it an Eluvian, I do not know the word in Qunlat,_ ” Fenris admitted then glanced up at Ashaad. “ _The second? Was the first...was he a redhead, younger than me?_ ” he asked.

Ashaad suddenly scowled, lifting his huge sword to press the tip against Fenris’ throat. “ _You speak of the basra saarebas!_ ” he declared, his lip curling. “ _You are with him, then?_ ”

Fenris swallowed and looked to the Ashaad, hopeful he wasn’t going to misstep. “ _He is part of my family, he was taken by one called the Iron Bull, or Hissrad to some, months ago. All we know is that he came through an Eluvian, but we haven’t found him. If you know of where he’s gone, I would know, please._ ”

Ashaad barked a brief, humourless laugh. “ _Yes, I know of that one - Hissrad brought him to be leashed and collared, as is right for all saarebas and was his duty. Hissrad has been named Arvaraad and holds the saarebas’ control now. Your... friend... now serves the Qun as is right and proper. He is no longer a threat and cannot imperil you or your people any longer._ ”

Fenris let his gaze fall to the ground, conflicted over whether to try finding out more or letting his anger take over. He looked up at the Ashaad, careful to keep his expression neutral. “ _He was a respected member of my family, honored by the Inquisition for his healing and other skills. He was stolen from us, and Bull has dishonored that, broken our ties. I would challenge him for his theft if I know where to find him._ ”

Ashaad’s blade pressed forward until Fenris felt the point pierce his skin, drawing blood. “ _Your words are meaningless, basra,_ ” he growled. “ _The Qun demands that a saarebas will not be suffered to go free. The choice is simple - be collared or die. He submitted as was right. Hissrad was obedient to the Qun. The basra saarebas is no longer your concern._ ”

Fenris wasn’t sure which was worse; hearing what had befallen Hal, or knowing that he would likely die if he continued to push the Ashaad for information. He could almost imagine the earful he’d get if he managed to get hurt or killed by the Qunari that held him. 

“ _I accept the truth in your words, Ashaad; forgive my impudence. I am merely a basra who does not know his place at times,_ ” Fenris said as he dropped his gaze, unsure if the blade at his neck would go further.

Ashaad snorted. “ _Then you will learn,_ ” he replied. “ _As viddethari or kabethari - the choice is yours. Will you submit to the Qun willingly or at swordpoint, bas? Choose swiftly before I choose for you._ ”

That made the elf’s head snap up. “ _Neither; I don’t belong here, I have to go back home. You still haven't told me where here even is! I will not submit - not again to sword, magister or the Qun!_ ” Fenris snarled at the Ashaad as his brands lit. Even if he had to change to a dragon to fight them all, he’d be damned if they took him anywhere.

Even as the strange elf’s brands blazed into life, Ashaad drew back only far enough to give himself space to lunge, driving the point of his blade deep into Fenris’ left thigh. The elf screamed as he felt the blade strike bone.

“No… I will **not** submit!” Fenris snarled as he tried to keep the Qunari from doing more damage. He swore at the other warrior as he felt blood running, hot and wet, down his leg. Ashaad merely shifted his grip upon the hilt of his sword; and then, before Fenris could react, the huge Qunari threw his weight against it.

There was a sickening crack of breaking bone, and then Fenris’ leg gave way as Ashaad straightened and stared down at him dispassionately, watching as the elf could only clutch his broken and wounded leg with a bloodcurdling scream.

Fenris’ brands dimmed as he laid there, screaming in pain as he tried not to cry from sheer pain and agony. He looked up at the Ashaad briefly before he closed his eyes and cursed himself for being so stupid.

“ _Kabethari,_ ” intoned Ashaad. “ _One way or another, you **will** submit to the Qun._ ”

 

***

Dorian glanced up from his contemplation of the depths of his wineglass at the tug of magic. “Meneris,” he said warningly as the portal began to open; a moment later, Arden stepped through, looking weary and heartsick.

“How bad was it with his daughter?” Meneris asked as he poured Arden a half-glass of wine.

“Very bad,” admitted Arden as he dropped listlessly into the nearest chair. “Parcival had to put her under with a sleep spell. Her brother’s watching over her now.”

“What a damned mess...I just hope we find him soon before his husbands lose their cool. This isn’t like him, unless I don’t know him as well as I thought? _Amatus_ , you know him better than we do; is this normal?” Meneris looked to his husband for something that would make sense.

Dorian sighed as he rose to his feet and claimed the wine bottle, carrying it over to top Arden’s glass up. “I believe he does have past form in this sort of behaviour,” he pointed out. “Remember that unpleasant business with Zevran when Hal was poisoned and almost died? How he suddenly went berserk at the thought of not just Anders but Hal at risk? Zevran was stabbed accidentally and ended up with broken ribs courtesy of Fenris, didn’t he? I remember Cullen had Fenris confined to his room for that.”

“Berserk yes, but to just go off on his own like this? It’s odd,” Meneris sighed as he rose to request that the others rejoin them. “Guess we have to find this eluvian and see what we can do with it.”

“I’d like to come with you, if I may?” asked Arden quietly. “Anders, Invictus and Zevran likely will wish to go as well.”

“Of course, let’s stop by and get them. Is Zevran able to join us?” Meneris asked as he debated more drink or less.

“He wasn’t when I left,” Arden shrugged. “That won’t stop him from _wanting_ to go however.”

“Very true; I fear what will happen when he learns of Fenris’ disappearance. He’s dangerous on a good day.” Meneris opened the door for the others, cursing his lot in life silently as they walked.

Invictus opened the door when Meneris knocked, and glanced around at the other two before waving them in. “Anders is sleeping at the moment,” he told them as he led the way towards the main suite.

“We hate to have to disturb his rest,” said Dorian apologetically. “But this is important enough that you should wake him.”

“Let me guess, Fenris definitely isn’t at Skyhold?” Vic replied as he glanced at the others. “By the look on your faces, I’m guessing this is pretty bad?”

“We just know he’s not here, and you know he’s not in Skyhold. We should look for the eluvian Anders mentioned, and then we can panic,” Meneris said.

“There was no sign whatsoever of Fenris back in Skyhold,” Arden sighed. “This eluvian - Anders would want to be awake I think to discuss this, and we need to know everything he can tell us about it.”

“We’d better make sure Zevran is restrained when we tell him, or he will demand to come with us despite how sick he is.” Invictus led them back to the room so he could wake his warden. 

“Love...I hate to wake you but there’s news about Fenris,” he said as he nudged the blond’s shoulder.

Anders groaned and tried to pull away from Invictus until his words penetrated the blond mage’s sleep-fogged brain. His eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking around with a hopeful expression. “You’ve found him?” His face fell as he saw the look on Invictus’ face, and his shoulders slumped.

“I wish love, but Arden has confirmed he’s not in Skyhold so that leaves your eluvian as an option. No one has spotted a large dragon around the palace, so this is our last lead,” Vic replied.

“I wish I had better news. Hopefully we can find him through the eluvian and end this nightmare,” Meneris added.

“I guess you want me to lead you to it?” said Anders as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

“Yes, if you could do so after we tie Zevran down and make sure he won’t follow when he’s not well,” Vic said as he circled the bed to put the elf under. Zevran was already stirring, the sound of voices rousing him from sleep. He opened his eyes as Invictus leaned over him.

“Vic?” he slurred drowsily.

“Hi love, feeling any better?” Invictus asked as he ran his fingers over the elf’s cheek. “Sorry we woke you, didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“Where is Fenris?” asked Zevran softly. He blinked sleepily. “Has he come back?”

Vic glanced over at Anders then back to Zevran. “He’s not back yet. We thought you were deeply asleep. Forgive us for waking you.” He gave him a slight grin before he let a sleep spell trickle from his fingers. Zevran succumbed to it immediately, his eyes closing as he sank back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Anders had risen from the bed and was pulling on a clean shirt; he paused, watching as Invictus put the elf back to sleep, and he sighed. “I pray we find Fenris before we have to break the truth to him,” he admitted. “I’m not entirely happy about leaving him, but....”

Arden glanced to Zevran then back to Anders, then stepped forward and shrugged. “I’ll sit with him,” he offered.

“But - I thought -” began Dorian; Arden turned and looked at him.

“Anders is right - Zevran needs someone here. At the same time, Anders is the only one who can show you all where the other eluvian is.” He glanced back to Anders and Invictus. “I just hope you find him quickly - and I can only pray that perhaps you’ll find Hal as well.”

“Come on, let’s go before I get any more grey hairs today,” Vic muttered. He kissed Zevran’s forehead before he fell in behind Anders and the others.

“I’m sorry Invictus, I wish I had something better to tell you,” Meneris said as they walked. Anders had tugged on the first clean shirt that came to hand and the nearest set of travel robes that happened to be a set Dorian had given him; half the buckles were still undone. Anders had thrown it on hastily then grabbed his staff to lead the way; he strode on ahead, trying to keep to a walk instead of running though from the way he strode it was evidently difficult for him to keep himself to the others’ pace.

Invictus called out to him to wait for them, he was impatient as well but running wouldn’t help. “Slow down love, not everyone is as tall as us.” 

Anders halted and glanced back, an anxious look drawing his brows down into a distracted frown. “Sorry, I... I didn’t think, I just... I just want to get there quickly. If he went through, then that must have been hours ago by now and - there are so many dangers in the Fade, and now possibly Qunari -”

“Anders,” interrupted Dorian. “Calm down. Let’s find this eluvian first, hmm?”

Anders drew a deep breath, then nodded. “Yes. You’re right. Eluvian first, panic afterwards.” He turned and headed off up the hallway again, though slightly slower this time.

“Thanks love,” Vic said as he fell in with his husband and gave the others an apologetic glance.

Dorian glanced at Meneris. “I would feel the same if it were you gone missing, _amatus_ ,” he said softly.

“I know, I know… let’s find this damn mirror.” Meneris took Dorian’s hand as they followed, silent as he considered how wrong the day had gone.

Anders led them unerringly to an old store room just off one of the deeper wine cellars; the door stood slightly open, a single set of tracks made by someone in bare feet leading through the dust upon the floor right up to the foot of a large, ornate, gilt-framed mirror. Anders stared at the footprints and groaned, then strode swiftly towards the eluvian.

“Hey, don’t go in there!” Vic called out. He stepped back at the incredulous look from his husband. “Sorry, I just...thought you might run into it, like when you followed Arden.”

Anders paused, one hand braced on the frame of the eluvian, and gave Invictus a frustrated look. “Love, don’t you think that by now I know far better than to just hurl myself through strange mirrors without having the slightest clue what may be on the other side? It could come out anywhere - or perhaps nowhere at all.”

Invictus looked away with a shamed expression. “I’m sorry, I’m getting a bit frantic over Fenris. Sorry love.” 

“Do you sense anything from it?” Meneris cut in.

Anders looked over at the Inquisitor. “I can feel this one is active, just as the other was. It’s not broken. Beyond that? No, not really. The only way to tell where it leads is to step through it.” He readied his staff and glanced back at the eluvian.

“I don’t think you should...what if it leads to a void, or something terrible?” Vic said as he stared at the mirror.

“We won’t find Fenris if we don’t. I am leery of going myself in case I am needed for the Council. Anders, you won’t be going by yourself however. Who else can attend you that came with us? Cullen perhaps?” Meneris asked.

“There’s a way to test,” said Anders. “Dorian, that sash you’re wearing....”

“This?” said Dorian, tugging loose the long silk sash holding his tunic closed. He passed the length of fabric over to Anders, who threw one end towards the surface of the eluvian.

It passed through the smooth surface of the glass then the end in Anders’ hand sagged, as though the other end had landed on the floor on the unseen other side of the mirror. Anders drew it back through the eluvian then inspected the end carefully. It was dry and seemed unaffected. He tied one end of the sash around his waist then held the other end out to Invictus. 

“If it seems to drop when I step through, then pull me back. If I don’t step back through by the time you’ve counted to twenty, pull me back, alright?” he asked. 

The other mage frowned but agreed as he took the sash, wrapped it around his hand and nodded. 

Anders took a deep breath, readied his staff, then stepped through the eluvian.

They stared at the unreflecting glass anxiously, all of them no doubt silently counting in their heads. Invictus had barely reached ten before Anders was stepping back through the eluvian, looking pale and wide-eyed. Before any of them could speak, he held up his shaking hand, his fingers smeared with something dark.

“Blood!” he blurted out. “It’s Fenris’ blood!”

“No...please be wrong, please?” Vic said as he approached his husband. “No, it’s not his blood.”

“Vic, I --” Meneris was cut off as the angry mage whirled on him.

“Do not, Meneris… if he’s hurt, then I’m going after him - you and the Inquisition be damned,” Vic snapped.

Anders had dropped his staff and was clutching at the frame of the eluvian for support as he stared still at the blood smeared upon his other hand. “It’s his... you think I wouldn’t know my own husband’s blood?” he whispered.

“Anders... easy there....” said Dorian as he moved to the blond mage’s side to support him as Anders took a shaky step away from the mirror. “Please don’t faint on me or anything like that?”

“It’s his,” said Anders. “This was shed several hours ago, but... he was still alive then. This... this isn’t....” He lifted his head to look around wildly. “Vic, we - we have to go find him, he’s hurt, he needs us! The eluvian - it leads to the Fade, there’s... it’s like a forest, but I could see other eluvians through the trees, and there was a path. We have to follow, to find him - there were other footprints - large, heavy ones.”

“Get us supplies, tell Zevran after we have gone through and let no one come after us,” Invictus said as he pulled Anders to him. “We’ll find him, we’ll find him… it will be ok, it has to.” 

Meneris nodded and left so he could get supplies for them, unable to argue with the anger of both men. 

Dorian was staring at the blood on Anders’ hand, a troubled look upon his face. “You can’t go alone - you’ll need help,” he said quietly.

“Soon as Meneris returns, we’re going after him,” Vic replied. He checked over his staff, almost ready to run through with just what they had on.

“Invictus, please - you’ll need help!” repeated Dorian. “You and Anders surely can’t mean to go alone? There must be others - let me come with you, and Arden too; you have no idea what you might be up against!” He frowned, pondering. “Who else? Perhaps Cullen, as Meneris suggested - you might need a rogue... who do we have?”

“The longer we take, the worse off Fenris could be! Get Cullen if you have to but hurry.” Invictus tried to stay calm but found it difficult every time he stared at the blood on Anders’ fingers.

“Meneris will bring Cullen, I’m sure of it,” replied Dorian desperately. “Just - Anders, just hang in there, alright?”

“There was so much blood there,” said Anders softly as though oblivious to their presence, staring at the blood upon his hand. “Whoever left those footprints - they were big. Taller than me. Heavier than Fenris. Qunari perhaps.”

“ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” muttered Dorian. “That’s it. You two can’t possibly go off - not even with Cullen; you need support - back-up, warriors, a rogue perhaps, unless you both want to find yourselves in iron collars and your mouths sewn shut!”

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. I learned to fight with weapons well before I admitted I had magic. Our husband is hurt, bleeding and who knows what has him. Would you be hesitating if this was Meneris?” Invictus asked as he got in Dorian’s space. 

“That’s enough, Invictus,” said Cullen as he strode into the small storage room, the Inquisitor only a step behind. “Anders doesn’t look in a fit state to go anywhere right now, and snarling at Dorian isn’t going to bring Fenris back any faster.”

“You don’t get to dictate to us what we should do about _our_ husband Cullen. Watch yourself,” Vic snapped.

Cullen opened his mouth to reply but they were all interrupted by the ring on Meneris’ hand suddenly giving a quiet chime which somehow cut right through and drew everyone’s attention.

“Meneris?” Arden’s voice issued from the ring, sounding a little breathless and surprised. “Are Anders and Invictus with you? Zevran and I have... visitors.”

“Do you really think we care about visitors right now Arden?” Vic called as he glanced back at the mirror. “The longer we wait, the longer he’s alone and hurt.”

“I do hope that’s not my brother you’re referring to, Vic,” said another voice through the ring. “Otherwise I shall be rather angry.”

“You _really_ don’t want to see how vexed Aeolus can get, Hawke,” called another voice - a warm, sultry, woman’s voice.

“Bela?” murmured Anders dazedly.

“I’m in a special hell of my own making aren’t I? What else is going to happen, Father come back to chastise me too?” Invictus said wearily. “Come on, let’s tell him what happened and hurry the fuck up to find Fenris.”

 

***

Less than an hour later, Anders, Invictus, Aeolus and Isabela were standing ready beside the eluvian. Cullen was handing out healing potions to the Rivaini pirate and Fenris’ brother; the former templar had donned his armour and all five had satchels with supplies.

“Zevran is never going to forgive us,” sighed Dorian as he watched the others make their final preparations. “Though how on earth you managed to persuade Arden to stay behind, I’ll never know, _amatus_.” He glanced at Meneris. 

The blond Hawke had argued strenuously to join the others, in spite of Anders’ protestations that _a_ Grand Enchanter should stay behind, if not _the_ Grand Enchanter. It had only been when the Inquisitor himself had had a quiet word with him that Arden had finally conceded defeat and agreed to remain behind with Zevran.

“It wasn’t easy; and Creators, I never want to see that look on his face again," admitted Meneris before turning to the others. "Come back soon, and with our troublemaker of a friend. Be safe, please?” Meneris asked as he stepped back, tugging Dorian with them.

“As safe as we can be, with Qunari running around,” replied Anders darkly. He’d washed Fenris’ blood from his hand and was now dressed in a dark leather tunic that had been lent him by one of the Inquisition guards. With the likelihood of fighting against one or more Qunari in the near future, he preferred a little more armour than his robes offered. For once he wondered if perhaps Invictus had the right idea with his Champion’s armour.

“Can we go now?” Vic asked impatiently as he fidgeted with his armor and staff. 

“I think we’re ready,” nodded Aeolus, glancing to Isabela who nodded.

“One thing more,” said Dorian as he pulled away from Meneris to hold something out to Anders; the blond mage took it and then stared down at the ring Dorian had given him. 

“Isn’t this -”

“The twin of the one Meneris wears, yes,” agreed Dorian. “Arden returned it to me - I think it would be as well to have some way to communicate with each other.”

“Very well,” nodded Anders, slipping the ring onto the little finger of his right hand. He glanced to Invictus. “Let’s go.” He turned and stepped through the eluvian.

Invictus followed, antsy as they found the spot where Anders had found their husband’s blood. “Maker… that’s a lot of blood. What happened to him?” 

“Perhaps he had a fight with someone when he passed through? Some injuries bleed a lot even if they aren’t too bad,” Cullen ventured. Isabela gave him a withering look. “What?” said Cullen, defensively.

Aeolus crouched down and touched the sticky patch of blood then rubbed his fingers together with a frown. “Several hours old, but the blood of a living man. Not enough for Fenris to have died from it - if he were taken to a healer without delay. His body is not here, but only one set of footprints lead from this spot - and those are undoubtedly of a Qunari.” He straightened and turned to follow the footprints.

“He seems... remarkably calm,” said Anders quietly to Isabela. She smiled without humour.

“Don’t let him fool you, sweet thing,” she replied just as quietly. “He’s very angry and very worried. He’s just keeping it all down inside until he finds the ones responsible for this.”

“We follow the footprints then, and likely any blood spills along the way,” Vic said tersely.

Anders nodded and followed after Aeolus, Isabela by his side as Invictus and Cullen brought up the rear. The former templar stared around in disbelief as they made their way through the forest.

“Maker, the sky... the sky is green!” exclaimed Cullen suddenly as he came to a halt. Isabela glanced back at him with an almost sympathetic look.

“What’s the matter, Curly - never been in the Fade before?” she cooed.

“That’s - wait - who told - did _Varric_ tell you -” he stammered, distracted, a slow blush spreading up his neck from beneath his collar to spread across his face as he stared at her, mortified at the nickname.

“He may have done, but he didn’t tell me how delightfully you’d blush,” she grinned back at him.

“Why, I - that’s - Maker, I will have words with that bloody dwarf,” muttered Cullen as he stomped after her.

“At least he’s no longer freaking out over the sky being green,” she murmured to Anders.

Invictus was barely keeping himself together as they traveled, his expression getting grimmer with each spot of blood they found alongside the large footprints. He was ready to charge the first Qunari he saw by the time Aeolus held his hand up for them to halt then motioned for everyone to get off the dirt track they’d been following, into the shelter of a group of boulders. They’d left the trees behind a little while ago and it was hard to ignore the green sky overhead and the Black City hanging in the air in the far distance now.

“There is an encampment a little way ahead,” the lyrium-tattooed warrior told them quietly as they crouched in the lee of the rocks. “I am not sure how many there are - but it looks like a scout group of some kind.”

“Can we get Fenris back from them?” Invictus asked, eager to do whatever he needed to get his husband back.

“I do not even know if my brother is actually _there_ yet,” growled Aeolus testily. “I could not see him. We do not know if there may be more than one camp of Qunari - but I could see that these do not have any supplies with them for an actual stay here, which means they likely have no supplies for keeping prisoners either. It is likely his captor has taken him as kabethari.”

Isabela swore; she quietened a little as Aeolus laid a hand upon her arm.

“Fenris will never submit,” she muttered. “Too much pride in him - just as there was when they took me. He’d rather die.”

“Unless he thinks there’s a chance he can get close to Hal, or find where they’re keeping him,” said Anders suddenly. “That was why he went through the eluvian.”

“What’s this about Hal?” asked Isabela.

“The Iron Bull - a former Qunari mercenary, or so we thought; evidently not so ‘former’ - kidnapped Hal several months ago,” Anders explained. “It seems he’d gained entrance to Skyhold through the eluvian down in the Undercroft. Fenris wanted to dive through the eluvian we’d found before, convinced we could find Hal; he didn’t take it well when Meneris wasn’t keen on us all piling through the first eluvian we found. I bet he found the eluvian we just passed through and was just so desperate he leapt through it -”

“Straight into the arms of a Qunari scout,” nodded Isabela, filling it in. “Figures. So... what are the chances this Iron Bull and your Hal are with this bunch - and Fenris too?”

“We need to scout out the encampment,” replied Aeolus. “We cannot simply rush in there. There are too many Qunari for a head-on attack.”

“Well I’m about as stealthy as a mabari after a haunch of lamb. Isabela, can you go to scout or should Aeolus go? If you can’t I won’t hold it against you,” Invictus said softly.

“I’ll go,” said Isabela grimly. “I know Qunari far better than any of you. I stand far better chance of getting in and out without being seen.” She glanced at Anders. “A Haste wouldn’t go amiss though, and would help me get out of trouble faster if....”

“You don’t need to ask, Bela,” said Anders quietly as he cast Haste on her. She and Aeolus kissed, then she was up and off in a heartbeat leaving them to look at each other.

“So... we just wait?” said Cullen. “She was with the Qunari for over two years - are we sure she can be trusted?”

“Cullen, if you say one more word then I swear I will freeze you where you sit,” hissed Anders, not even looking at Cullen as he clenched a fist that was suddenly wreathed in ice.

“I’ll double whatever he does to you if you don’t shut your damned mouth,” Vic snarled from where he knelt next to the furious blond mage. 

Aeolus was staring at Cullen with vivid blue eyes that were hard and unfriendly. “I would listen to your friends if I were you, Commander,” he said quietly.

Cullen sat back, hands up in half-surrender before he folded them and glanced away, holding his tongue.

Anders shook ice from his hand, scowling. He glanced to Invictus, then exhaled silently as he leaned in against his husband’s side. “I hate the waiting,” he murmured softly.

“As do I, but there’s little to be done. I just hope we find him in time.” Vic said as he leaned against Anders and settled in to wait.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected aid, and a dramatic rescue.

The first thing Fenris was aware of upon waking slowly was pain; his left leg seemed to throb with a jaw-clenching, bone-deep ache that flamed up into something sharper and more insistent when he incautiously tried to move.

The second thing he was aware of was that his hands were bound behind his back and he was tied down onto a bed - or at least, it _felt_ like a bed. Only his injured left leg had been left unbound - and he wasn’t going to be struggling with that any time soon. 

“So, you’re awake, huh?” That voice was familiar. Fenris tried to clear the fog from his mind as he opened his eyes slowly. He turned his head and saw -

“Yeah, it’s me,” said the Iron Bull in a tired voice. “I’d tell you it’s not what you think, but somehow I don’t think you’re in any mood to listen.”

Fenris cursed at the Bull in a rather inventive mixture of Qunlat, Tevene, Antivan and even a few choice swears in Orlesian as he tried to find any way he could get his hands hands free and around the Ben-Hassrath’s neck; all he needed was one good twist and he’d have his revenge. 

“I don’t think you want to do that,” said the Bull, his voice quiet and low. “Not with your leg still broken. Must hurt some.” He leaned over and grasped Fenris’ left ankle as the elf struggled, and Fenris nearly howled as a sharp knife of pain flared up his leg from his thigh.

“Afraid my orders were very specific,” said the Bull with a shrug. “‘Heal the sword wound only.’ Nothing about the broken bone - besides, it would have taken it out of my saarebas too much. He’s not been eating well so he isn’t as strong as he used to be, see?”

“Fuck….yourself…. Bull,” Fenris gasped as he tried to keep from screaming at how much it hurt. “Broke my leg with his sword...not much use if you cripple me?” 

The Iron Bull shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter to me if you cripple yourself or not. It’s not for me to decide your use to the Qun; that’s for the Tamrassan. But you might want to quieten down a bit. You’re upsetting my saarebas. He may not be able to see you, but there’s nothing wrong with his hearing.”

“I won’t obey you, you stole him from us. Fuck you Bull, I’m sure whatever you’ve done is worse than hearing me yell.” Fenris let his head hit the pillow as he swallowed down the nausea from the pain in his leg..

“You think your yelling in pain won’t upset him enough as it is? He’s pretty worked up already over Ashaad bringing you in, you know.” The Iron Bull glanced over his shoulder; Fenris realised he could hear the sounds of muffled sobs coming from somewhere behind the massive kossith.

Fenris tilted his head and realized that Hal was more upset than he could have guessed. “Fine, know that if I get the chance I’m still taking your horns for a trophy; once you’ve suffered for what you’ve done to him.” He turned away from the Qunari, closed his eyes and fell silent.

He heard the clink of chains then the rustle of heavy fabric as the muffled sobbing drew closer. “Easy, easy there,” the Bull said gently, a note of tenderness in his voice. “It’s gonna be OK, Hal. It’s OK. Fenris is just mad at me, but as long as he quits wriggling around he won’t hurt himself any worse, OK? Just calm down, Kadan. Just a little longer, I promise you.” 

The elf didn’t turn at the sound of Hal’s crying; he couldn’t or else he knew he’d only hurt himself worse trying to snap his bonds. He apologized to the mage, but kept his eyes shut and his voice low. He wouldn’t give Bull the satisfaction of seeing him break down at the sight of Hal, it wasn’t for him to know.

There was the sound of a key clicking in a lock followed by the clink of the chains again, as Hal’s muffled sobs quietened.

“It’s OK,” murmured the Bull softly. “Go on, go right ahead. I’ll be over here. Just five minutes though, Kadan, OK?” 

There was the soft scuff of a booted foot on the dirt floor, and then Fenris could sense the Iron Bull moving away. A moment later, Fenris felt hands clumsily patting him then feeling their way slowly up his body. 

The elf turned his head and cursed as he saw how the mage had been mutilated. “Oh Hal... _amatus_ , I’m so sorry. I failed you,” Fenris gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

Hal’s answering sob was muffled, the sound trapped behind the pale lips that had been stitched closed. Tears seeped from beneath the black stitches that held his eyelids shut, blinding him. The skin around every stitch was red and inflamed, crusted with blood; those along his lips looked particularly raw and unhealthy. A large heavy iron collar rested around the young man’s throat, and heavy manacles were clasped around his wrists.

Hal patted his hands across Fenris’ body until they rested upon the elf’s chest, and then the blinded mage curled up and pressed his face to Fenris’ chest as he wept almost silently.

“I’d hold you but I’m tied up like a damned feastday hog,” Fenris said quietly. “Why didn’t they let you heal your own wounds? Fucking animals,” he added as he let his head hit the pillow again. “Hal, don’t cry over me please. I hate that I got myself hurt, I could save you if I hadn’t been so stupid,” he said softly.

Hal drew away a little, pressing his hands to his mutilated mouth as he tried to calm himself and stop sobbing; as Fenris watched, Hal’s fingers curled inwards and the redhead began to pick at the stitches as a faint sound of frustration escaped the back of his throat, stifled by his own lips.

“Stop, you’ll make it worse. Just… lie here as long as they will let you stay. I’ve missed you so much.” Fenris’ voice broke at last and he felt tears slide down his face as he tried to stay still and not wrench his leg again.

Hal lowered his hands from his mouth and felt for Fenris again, his hands slowly moving up until he could feel Fenris’ face. His fingers brushed lightly across the elf’s wet cheeks, and then Hal slowly stretched himself out alongside Fenris along his right-hand side and buried his face against the side of Fenris’ neck as he tried not to give into tears.

That was when Fenris belatedly became aware of the third thing which he ought to have noticed sooner. He was collared. As Hal pressed himself against Fenris, the elf could feel the thick leather of the collar digging into the side of his neck - and something metallic that pressed against the lyrium of his throat with an unpleasant sensation.

Fenris swallowed, and grimaced at the feeling of the leather around his neck, before he tried to snap the ropes keeping his hands under him. “Off, get it off me!” he snapped, trying to find any way to get the accursed thing off his neck. “No...not a collar, never ...again!” he gasped, each movement causing him more pain. 

Then Hal was being lifted up and away from him, with a muffled sound of protest and the clink of chains. “Sorry, Kadan; time’s up,” said the Bull. “Aww, look, you made your stitches bleed again,” he added with a note of distress. “C’mon, Kadan, just hold on, OK? I told you, just a little longer, I promise.” 

Hal clasped his hands together and made a pleading motion blindly towards the Iron Bull, clearly begging to have his mouth freed. The former mercenary sighed and wrapped his arms around the slender mage with a low groan. “Soon, Kadan - I promise you, real soon now.” He glanced over at Fenris as the elf thrashed and struggled, and sighed. “Gonna have to put you out if you don’t calm down, my friend,” he warned him.

“Not… your friend... get it off, get it off!” Fenris howled as he tried to get his arms free, not realizing how close he was to injuring himself worse the more he struggled.

Then the Bull’s large hand was holding a wet cloth over his mouth and nose, and a sour acrid smell hit him, leaving him giddy and light-headed. As he gasped for breath, he thought he heard the Bull murmur something; consciousness fled before the words could register however.

 

***

Invictus had almost nodded off as they waited for Isabela to return; his burst of fear had worn down and he felt as if he could sleep for a week. Only Anders’ nervous energy, betrayed by the occasional little twitches and the way he restlessly tapped his knee, had kept Invictus from falling asleep entirely. As Invictus lifted his head and glanced at Anders, the blond mage grimaced slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, trying to still his hand.

“Don’t apologize, I shouldn’t be nodding off. I’m exhausted after the rush of worrying. You ok as you can be love?” Vic asked tiredly.

Anders shrugged. “As I can be,” he agreed. “Which is to say no, not really, but I can hold it together for now.” His eyes were red with exhaustion in a too-pale face as he fidgeted nervously.

Cullen regarded them both from a little further away, but said nothing. Aeolus sat with his back against the rocks, his eyes closed; whether merely resting his eyes or truly asleep, they couldn’t tell.

“I just need her to come back before I forget myself and try to get in there on my own,” Vic whispered.

Anders swallowed hard, then tried to smile. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” he confided. “I never was very good at -”

“- waiting?” Isabela finished for him. “Good job I’m back then, isn’t it?”

Anders jerked, startled, as Cullen visibly jumped and swore to himself. Aeolus merely opened his eyes and gave her a grin as she sat down next to him and gave him a kiss.

“Well?” Vic asked as he sat up and glared at her half-heartedly.

“Oh, he’s there alright,” she nodded. “They both are.” Her expression grew grim. “As is someone called Hissrad who appears to have your pretty redhead’s leash. You aren’t going to like what they’ve done to him.”

Anders’ face paled and he looked sick. “Oh. Oh no. Oh Maker.” He pressed a hand hard over his mouth as he stared at the ground, fighting to keep his breathing under control, visibly trying to swallow down the urge to throw up.

“I’m going to kill Bull for what he’s done to both of them, if Fenris doesn’t beat me to it,” Invictus snarled. “I almost wish we had Dorian so he could just teleport us back once we have him.” 

“We have Aeolus, and he can have every breath of mana I possess to get us home the moment we have both Hal and Fenris,” replied Anders fiercely. 

“Anders, you’re only upright through sheer force of will right now as it is!” exclaimed Cullen disbelievingly. “You’re exhausted!”

“Shut up, Cullen!” hissed Anders, glaring at the former templar who refused to be cowed.

“Actually, I’m not so sure Cullen is wrong this time, sweet thing,” said Isabela thoughtfully as she stared at Anders. “You don’t look at all well.”

“He exhausted himself trying to find Fenris earlier,” Invictus admitted. “I woke him when Arden returned so he could show us where the second eluvian was.” He gave Anders a guilty glance.

“That doesn’t matter,” declared Anders. “We get in, we get Fenris and Hal, Aeolus takes whatever he needs from me to get us out - it _doesn’t matter!_ ” He glared at them each in turn. “All that matters is that we get Fenris and Hal out of their hands. After that? I don’t care.”

“Perhaps you should wait for us here, Anders,” said Aeolus.

“What? No!” cried Anders with a stricken expression. “Please, you can’t expect me to wait here knowing Fenris is down there? And Hal too, after everything that’s happened to him -” He turned to Invictus in desperation. “Love, you don’t expect me to just tamely wait here, do you?”

“No, I don’t. What’s the plan?” Vic asked. 

“Waiting, he tells me to be patient but the stitches pull and itch; feeling his tears but I want to see his face,” said a voice unexpectedly from far too close to Invictus’ ear. The mage recoiled, swearing, as he turned to see Cole perched on a nearby rock and looking more miserable than any of them could ever remember seeing him.

“Cole?” exclaimed Cullen. “Sweet Maker, where have you been all this time?”

“I followed,” said the spirit as he glanced at the Commander. “I wanted to help but it’s been so hard. He hurts - but mostly inside; eyes and lips distract but it’s never enough. He can’t dream. They took his dreams away. I try to comfort him when they leave him alone but I don’t know if I’m making it worse - I can’t get him out.” Cole scrubbed at his face. “I _tried_ , I tried so hard, but I couldn’t find my way back and all the mirrors look the same. It’s all wrong here and I feel wrong but I’m trying still. I need help.” He glanced up at Isabela. “I can help _you_. Then you can help _them_. Help me get them out.”

“You’ve been here all along?” breathed Anders softly. “You followed them through the Eluvian?”

“I can take you to them,” said Cole. “I can hide you. They won’t see me - but I can’t take all of you. It’s... hard, with more than one.”

“Hide?” said Anders, leaning forward. “Hide how?”

Cole suddenly smiled, a little self-conscious, and then Anders and Invictus glanced at each other, confused. 

“Who were you speaking to, love?” asked Invictus.

“I - I don’t know,” faltered Anders, putting a hand to his head as he blinked. “I... I can’t remember....”

Cole suddenly appeared, and they jumped. “If you can’t see me, you can’t remember,” he said earnestly. Anders blinked as he suddenly remembered Cole appearing a few moments before.

“You... you mean, when you disappear like that, you make us forget?” he said slowly. Cole shrugged.

“It’s not disappearing. Just forgetting,” he explained.

“You mean... you make us forget you’re there?” said Anders, frowning slightly.

“I have to make you remember I’m there,” said Cole earnestly. “Easier for people; people don’t want to be forgotten. Everyone wants to be remembered by _someone_. But people can’t remember something they can’t see.”

“But we can see you,” pointed out Isabela.

“Presumably... because Cole _wants_ us to see him?” said Anders slowly. Cole smiled slightly and nodded.

“You said you can’t take all of us,” interjected Invictus. “How many _can_ you take?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Cole. “You have to want to be forgotten but not forget yourself. More is harder, the thoughts get confused and I can’t concentrate; all the thoughts fall over each other and I can’t hear the ones that have to forget over the ones that want to be forgotten.”

Aeolus and Isabela exchanged a glance. “You and I then,” said Isabela. “Then you can teleport them both straight out.”

“I’m going with you,” said Invictus in a tone that suggested it wasn’t a request. 

“Hawke -” began Isabela.

“You’ll need a mage, and if Hal’s collared as a saarebas then he won’t be any good to you. Fenris is my husband. I’m going with you,” he repeated insistently.

“Alright - Aeolus and Hawke with Cole, and I’ll go on ahead and lead the way,” shrugged Isabela.

“Bela -” began Aeolus; she leaned over and cupped his cheek with her hand.

“Hush, sweet thing,” she murmured. “I got in and out once, I can do it again. And you might need a diversion in there.”

He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll bring them all straight back here.” He glanced to Anders. “If you’ve lyrium with you, best take it now - because I’ll need your mana to get us all back to the Eluvian.”

“You’ll have it,” nodded Anders as he reached into a belt pouch and produced several vials of lyrium, handing one to Invictus.

“Love -” began Invictus, frowning; Anders silenced him with a kiss. 

“Hush, love,” he murmured against Invictus’ lips. “Go, and bring Fenris and Hal back safely.”

Invictus drew back; for a moment, he looked as though he would speak, but then he exhaled slowly through his nose before nodding.

“Hurry, mustn’t wait!” said Cole insistently. “We have to go _now!_ ” He reached for both Aeolus and Invictus -

_The man feels... odd. Not entirely there. Wherever “here” was, anyway. What are they doing here? Who are “they” anyway? He glances at the young man who holds his hand so firmly, and tries to remember his name - but it’s blank; cottonwool between his ears, a comforting fog of emptiness._

_He glances around as the young man leads them on, but there are no clues around him as to where they are. The sky overhead is green, and he knows that should have meaning - if only he could remember...._

_“Stop,” says the young man. He is sweating, the older man can see - visibly straining, though against what, he can’t see. “You have to stop trying to remember. It makes it harder if you don’t forget.”_

_“Harder to do what?”_

_The young man halts and glances at him again, his colourless eyes intent._

_The man blinks. “Did you say something?” he asks._

_“Nothing,” replies the young man. “Follow me and don’t think. Don’t remember.”_

_“Remember what?” asks the man, but the hand tugs him on, and within a few steps he has forgotten what he was asking anyway._

_The immense grey-skinned warriors look through them._

_He can’t remember what they are called._

_They walk through the camp filled with the grey-skinned warriors who stare through them, unseeing. He can’t remember why they came this way, and he frowns._

_“You’re thinking again,” says the young man, his voice shaking a little from the strain. “Must stop thinking. No remembering, just being.”_

_It’s easier to do as he says than struggle to remember. He lets himself be led on until the young man pulls them into a tent set up to one side, under an overhang of rock sheltered with fronds of fern. He looks around and stares at the young man who kneels beside a low cot; his hands are manacled behind his back and his eyes and mouth have been sewn shut. An elf lies unconscious upon the cot, his hands bound behind his back._

_“Remember,” says Cole._

Invictus jerked his hand out of Cole’s grasp with a gasp as he suddenly came back to himself. It was not entirely unlike the sensation of being woken suddenly from a dream by a bucket of ice-cold water; from the sharp gasp nearby, he guessed Aeolus felt the same way. 

He didn’t know who to turn to first - Hal, who knelt there, blind and mute, turning his head sharply towards them; or Fenris, stirring slowly upon his cot with a low groan.

“Must hurry,” urged Cole; he trembled, as though exhausted. 

Invictus threw himself down beside Fenris and groaned when he saw how pale the elf was. “Oh love, those bastards - what did they do to you?” he asked as he gathered Fenris up into his arms; the elf cried out in pain.

Hal was whimpering; Invictus glanced around to see that Cole and Aeolus had gotten him up onto his feet, the tattooed elf with an arm around the young mage’s waist as Cole gently touched his face.

“I told you, I promised,” Cole was saying quietly. “I promised you I wouldn’t let you be forgotten. We can go, you’ll be safe - I kept my promise!”

“We have to go,” growled Aeolus, glancing to Invictus. “Someone may come to see why my brother cried out.”

The tent flap opened and they glanced around in alarm; it was Isabela.

“Get out of here, fast,” she hissed tersely. “Hissrad comes. Quick, go - I’ll cover you and stall him.”

“Bela!” said Aeolus, his blue eyes wide in alarm.

“Go!” she insisted. “Get them out of here - I’ll find you later!”

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I know,” she replied, before turning away.

Cole was uncharacteristically quiet as he looped an arm around Hal’s waist and gripped Aeolus’ arm then reached out to grasp Invictus’ shoulder, even as Aeolus reached out with his free hand to grasp the former Champion’s other shoulder.

“Open up your magic to me, Hawke,” the elf requested.

“You have it,” nodded Invictus as he tapped into his magic and let it flow through him and into Aeolus as the elf drew upon it. There was a sudden, nauseating wrench sideways, then another, and then they were staggering as Cullen and Anders jumped to their feet, Anders at Invictus’ side in an instant as Invictus reeled, even that brief hop draining him.

“Hurry!” urged Aeolus, his face pale and the strain showing clearly upon him. Anders slung one arm around Invictus’ waist as Cullen slung his arms around both Cole and Invictus’ shoulders. Anders reached for Aeolus’ hand, his own already glowing blue with mana.

“Go!” he uttered; and then there was another wrenching jerk and the green sky tilted alarmingly as Invictus felt himself falling just before everything went dark.

***

Fenris came back to himself slowly. As consciousness gradually returned, he became aware he was lying in a comfortable bed, and though his leg still throbbed with pain, it was a dull ache rather than the sharp jagged pain that had had him screaming before.

He also became aware of voices nearby - someone sobbing. The sound was familiar; unlike the last time he’d heard it, this time the voice was unmuffled, and there were words, albeit incoherent ones.

_Hal._

With that thought, his eyes snapped open and he sat up, staring around wildly.

“Easy, love,” said a voice; he glanced around and spotted Invictus sitting nearby, the mage looking exhausted and worried.

“Vic!” exclaimed Fenris. “Hal -”

“He’s going to be alright - which is more than I can say for the Bull when we get our hands on him,” Invictus added darkly, his eyes snapping suddenly with fury.

“The Bull is mine,” snarled Fenris.

“I think you might find there’s quite the queue, love,” replied Invictus grimly. “When I came round, Cullen and Meneris were having to practically sit on Arden to stop him charging off through the Eluvian to find the Bull. It was only the fact that Hal needed him so much here right now that stopped him though.”

“Where is Hal? Is that - that’s him crying, isn’t it?” said Fenris.

“Yeah - no-one wanted to risk touching the stitches in his eyelids until Anders has woken up and had a chance to look at them, but Arden was able to cut the ones in his lips and remove them,” replied Invictus, glancing back at the door leading to the other bedroom. “Isabela made it back through the Eluvian about an hour after we returned - she’d managed to steal the control rod for the saarebas collar and manacles, though how, Maker only knows.”

At mention of the collar, Fenris’ hands flew to his own throat; his fingers touched only bare skin however.

“It’s OK, Cullen got that thing off you even before we managed to calm Arden down enough to start working on your leg,” Invictus reassured him. “And once Anders wakes up, he’ll be able to finish healing it the rest of the way.” He sighed. “Hal’s in no fit state to heal himself, much less anyone else right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘once Anders wakes up’?” asked Fenris, feeling a sudden stab of worry.

“It was your brother Aeolus who brought us back - I provided the mana to get you, me, Hal and Cole out, and then Anders provided the rest of the power needed for your brother to get all of us including him and Cullen to the Eluvian,” replied Invictus. 

“My brother?” echoed Fenris, startled. Invictus nodded.

“Yes, your brother. He and Isabela showed up whilst we were all hunting for you, and when he heard you were missing they both insisted on joining us in the hunt. Anders tried to use his healer’s senses to find you, the way he did Pin, but found nothing - but he _did_ pick up on the Eluvian in the cellars.”

“Ah... so that was how you were able to follow me?” guessed Fenris; Invictus nodded.

“We followed your blood to the Qunari camp then Isabela went in to scout around and see if she could find you - and, as it turned out, Hal too. Aeolus and I slipped into the camp with Cole’s help, then your brother used my magic to get us out again, and Anders powered him to get us the rest of the way back to the mirror, as I said.” Invictus shrugged a little apologetically. “I, uh, passed out just as we got to the Eluvian. Cullen tells me that he and Cole managed to get you and Hal through the Eluvian one after the other, and Meneris and Dorian were waiting on the other side with Arden and what sounds like over half the Inquisition guard retinue. They brought us all back here to our rooms; Arden’s with Hal in the parlour, Anders is still out cold in his room and Zevran’s with him. I only woke up myself about an hour ago.”

Fenris stared at Invictus aghast. He felt a horrible churning sense of guilt; Anders unconscious, Invictus evidently not much better off from the look and sound of him - and due in no small part to his actions. He could hear Hal still weeping and he wanted to go to him - just as he also wanted to go to Anders, to Zevran - and somehow also remain with Invictus. 

Zevran was with Anders. The Antivan would look after their blond mage husband, he told himself. And Hal had Arden at the moment. But Invictus... before Anders, before Zevran, before Hal - there had been Invictus first and for longest. 

He held out his hand towards Invictus, and then the mage slowly and carefully climbed onto the bed to curl around Fenris and hold him.

They were crying - both of them, a flood of tears that wouldn’t stop. Relief, guilt, pain, worry, sheer raw exhaustion - all of these and more were in their tears as they clung to each other as though both afraid the other would somehow disappear if they let go; but it was exhaustion that claimed them both, and they fell asleep in one another’s arms.

***

Meneris had curled up against Dorian’s side, exhausted from the stress of the day and suddenly getting their enchanter and Fenris back, both worse for wear. “Love, what do you say we let the damn Council have their way and we go back home?” he asked quietly.

“That leaves what happens to us in the hands of other people, love - we can be fairly certain that Leliana will try to do right by us; and whatever happens to us, we know that Anders’ plans for the College of Mages will still go through. But I have no wish for the Orlesians to have their way - or for this to lead to war, love,” replied Dorian slowly. “Short of disbanding the Inquisition and having Anders declare Skyhold the new base of operations for the Grand Enchanter....” He shrugged and sighed. 

“The last thing I want to do is let them win, but I’m so damned tired Dorian. I never wanted this, not to be held over the fire after all we did to save their ungrateful hides.” Meneris clenched his fist tight, hoping to hide the flash of green from his mark.

Dorian’s eyes had slowly slid closed but they snapped open as something briefly lit up the room. He glanced around and frowned as he stared at Meneris’ fist. “Love... your mark.”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tense from the last day. Come, let’s get some rest. Their mockery of a council resumes tomorrow and I don’t need to give them any more fuel against us.” Meneris stretched against his husband, unmarked hand against the magister’s heart as he tried to sleep.

Dorian rested his own hand over his husband’s and closed his eyes. He was already more than halfway towards dreams himself as he found himself musing aloud quietly without fully aware he was doing it. “Maybe it _is_ time to wind things up. Disband before they can force us or draft us. Take the wind out of all their sails....”

“Once the problem with the Qunari is resolved, they can have their dissolution. No one gets to come crying to us when things go to the Void again either,” Meneris replied.

“They can go cry to the Void, for all the good it will do,” murmured Dorian in agreement, his eyes still closed as he rubbed a soothing circle against the back of Meneris’ hand with his thumb. “Who’ll care? Not us....”

“Love you...long as we’re together we’ll be alright. Sleep now.” Meneris mumbled as he moved closer to his husband and finally fell asleep. 

Dorian smiled sleepily before slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep himself.

***

Fenris was still out for the count when Invictus finally awoke some hours later. He glanced around blearily for a moment before he leaned over to kiss the elf’s cheek. After carefully slipping from bed, he tried to catch a guard or servant so a meal could be sent to them.

As he emerged from the bedroom, he paused upon spying Arden stretched out asleep upon the _chaise longue_ where he’d found Zevran the previous day. Hal was curled up against him, his head pillowed against the blond mage’s shoulder. As Invictus stared at them, the redhead lifted his head and turned blindly towards him.

“Invictus?” he asked very quietly.

“It’s me, I was trying to be quiet as I passed. Once Anders wakes up, we’ll take care of the rest of your injuries. I’ll get food for you too.” Vic replied. 

“It’s just my eyes,” said Hal. “It’s... I want to be able to _see_ , but even that’s not as bad as being unable to speak or - or feel my magic, or dream. Maker, even the nightmares are welcome after so long without dreams. You have no idea....”

“I don’t...I’m sorry Hal, I’m just glad we got you back. Rest up, there will be food soon,” Vic said as he passed, unable to look at the younger mage for long.

Hal sat up and stretched out one hand towards him. “Invictus, wait! I... please. I know it must be very hard to look at me and see what they did but - please, I need your help. I... I don’t know these rooms, and I... please, Fenris, I need to know....” He stared blindly into space, biting his scarred lip. “Can I... would you take me to him? I... I just want to be near him. For a little while.”

“Of course, just give me a moment to request food be brought in.” Invictus hurried away, speaking quietly with a passing servant before he came to escort Hal. “He was still sleeping when I came out here, but he might be up by now.”

“Is there a scarf or something you could bind across my eyes?” asked the young man as he felt Invictus’ hand steady him as he took a halting, stumbling footstep away from the _chaise longue_ and Arden’s sleeping form.

“I guess I could use the belt from my robe. Hold on to me and be still a moment.” Invictus gently tied the soft cloth around Hal’s eyes before he turned him towards the room. 

“Thank you,” said Hal softly. He laughed nervously. “It’s for me as much as it is for you - and the others,” he explained with a half-shrug. “Even after so many months blind, I still keep trying to open my eyes. If there’s something tied across them, it makes it easier to keep them closed. My eyes sense there’s something in the way and just want to stay closed naturally. It’s... less painful than being reminded constantly.” His hands tightened their grip upon Invictus’ arm as he stumbled slightly; he bit his lip again to stifle a small cry.

“Anders will hopefully be up soon and able to fix that for you. Come on, I’m sure Fenris will be happy to see you, until you can see him.” Vic steadied the other mage so they could enter, finding Fenris was still asleep. 

“He’s asleep, isn’t he?” said Hal, turning his head slightly towards the sound of Fenris’ quiet breathing. “Would you lead me closer?”

“Yeah, just be careful...he didn’t rest too well. He might startle awake for all we know,” Invictus said as he helped Hal sit on the bed, guiding his hand to where Fenris was flat on his back, head tipped to the left. 

Hal touched Fenris then let his fingers trace lightly over the elf’s sleeping form as he bowed his head and was still for a moment. Then one hand pressed lightly against Fenris’ skin as it glowed blue, the other hand slowly brushing lightly down Fenris’ arm until Hal’s fingers could curl very gently into Fenris’ sleeping grasp.

“Someone has already done most of my work,” murmured Hal as he let healing magic steadily flow into the elf’s sleeping form. “It feels like... Arden’s work?”

“Yeah...Anders will be up soon, I hope,” Invictus said, but his other thoughts were interrupted by the loud knocking at their door. “Late breakfast, I’ll bring you something if you want to rest with him.”

“Food... oh Maker,” breathed Hal in a slightly dreamy tone. “I can eat again. Yes, please - anything!”

“Alright, get settled and I’ll be right back.” Invictus was gone only a short while, but when he returned he found that Hal had finished healing Fenris’ leg and though blind, he turned his head towards Invictus with an anticipatory look of hunger that spoke of months of near-starving. 

“Easy, your stomach may have shrunk while you were...gone,” warned Invictus as he carefully put a bowl of oatmeal, sweetened with honey and a sprinkling of sweet spices.

“It likely has,” Hal nodded. “Saarebas are fed on this tasteless thick liquid - it’s hard to suck in enough to fill your stomach when your mouth is still newly stitched, and even if not for that... I couldn’t bear to eat, mostly, only starving hurts more. But even though the collar stopped me from dreaming, all I could think about most of the time was all my favourite foods - and just the feel and taste of actual real food in my mouth. Even plain bread and water would be a feast after that.” He took a mouthful of the simple oatmeal and a look of thankful delight crossed his face as he gave a long, low groan of pleasure.

“Well, once you can enjoy food we’ll be sure and get your favorites brought to you,” Vic replied, sad at how much the young man was enjoying such simple fare.

“Believe me, this is so good right now, I can wait!” Hal smiled before taking another mouthful with another low moan, almost orgiastic.

“Get off the bed if you’re going to make noises like that,” the elf mumbled before he opened his eyes and tried to roll to his side, instantly regretting the incautious movement. “Bad idea...such a bad idea.”

Hal swallowed hastily, then began to stammer out apologies, coughing.

“Hal?” Fenris asked as he cleared his vision, sitting up the reach for the young man but caught himself. “May I hold you?”

Hal turned his head blindly towards Fenris and held a shaking hand out towards the sound of his voice as Invictus hastily rescued the bowl of oatmeal. “Oh yes - yes, please!” the redhead begged, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks, wetting the fabric across his eyes.

The warrior pulled Hal to him, holding him close as he dared and sobbing as he felt how small the mage felt in his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry.”

“I knew you would come; I just knew - but when Hissrad led me to you and told me to heal only enough that you wouldn’t die - he never told me who you were, but I _knew_ , Fenris, I _knew_ the moment he released my magic and I felt you!” Hal could barely get the words out for sobbing. “And I thought - they’d send you to Seheron to the Tamrassan and - and I couldn’t bear it, after so long -”

“I’d have died first before I let them send me anywhere. I wasn’t going to willingly give in, not when you were right there. Forgive me, someday. I’m sorry, I didn’t keep you safe Hal. I’m so sorry.” Fenris held Hal, sobbing between apologies, enough that he nearly choked on his tears. 

“I wish I could see your face,” sobbed Hal. “I want to see your face!”

“Not right now, I look pretty bad,” Fenris said as he took Hal’s hands and placed them on his face. “This will do until Anders can take care of those stitches. I look the same - well, a few bruises from the fight with those Qunari, but still the same face.” 

Invictus had slipped away to let them speak in privacy, unsure if either wanted an audience for their reunion. He came out to find Arden stirring finally. The blond mage was sitting up slowly as he glanced around, blinking groggily.

“Invictus?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Maker, I’m so tired. What time is it?”

“Close to midday I think. We all slept in pretty late. Come, there’s breakfast if you want it,” Vic said as he warmed a cup of coffee before settling in to his meal.

Arden glanced around. “Wait - Hal. Where’s Hal?” He jumped up from the couch with an alarmed expression. “Oh Maker. I never woke when he got up. Where is he?”

“He’s with Fenris, he wanted to see him and I’m giving them space. I think both of them are going to be out of commission for a while,” Vic said, his gaze on the reports someone had slipped under the tray.

Arden stared at Invictus, the panicked expression in his eyes slowly giving way to relief before he dropped back down onto the couch then dropped his head into his hands with a low groan. “Maker. I thought - After so long, so many months of nightmares... I can’t quite fully grasp he’s here. For a moment I had the horrible thought I’d dreamed it all and he was still missing.”

“Pretty sure that’s what woke Fenris a couple times last night. He’s here and once Anders has rested, we’ll get those damned stitches out.” Vic glanced at the doorway again then back to his reports.

“He should be awake soon, shouldn’t he?” said Arden, lifting his head to glance over at Invictus. “Though after exhausting himself trying to find Fenris and then letting Aeolus use him to power your leap back - well, if you’re only just up and about now, it wouldn’t surprise me if Anders is still out for the count.” He squinted at the reports. “If there’s anything there for Anders, you probably ought to let me read it,” he shrugged. “There might be something requiring the Grand Enchanter’s input - and at the very least I can try and put people off for a day or so until Anders is able to take over.”

“Hmm, sure thing. Here go through them while I check on Anders. If you hear anything or they call out I’ll be right back.” Invictus slid the reports over before he pulled his robe closed and headed for the other suite of rooms they’d been given.

Anders was curled up upon one side of the huge Orlesian bed, Zevran sprawled out upon the other side. Oddly, for once it was the Antivan who was snoring; Anders was silent, his arms wrapped around himself and his knees drawn up until his forehead was almost resting against them.

Invictus wished he had a way to capture the moment, but resisted the urge to coo over his husbands. Instead he gently brushed some of Anders dark gold hair from his forehead. “Poor love, so exhausted.”

Anders’ eyes drifted half-open briefly; he made a faint half-articulated sound of query before he closed them again with a faint sigh.

“Rest up love, I’ll be back later.” Vic gave him a kiss before heading back to Arden.

He found the other blond mage poring over a report in his hand as he sipped slowly at a cup of coffee. He looked more awake now, though there were still dark circles under his eyes. He glanced up as Invictus returned.

“Both still asleep?” he asked.

“Yeah, even Zevran is snoring like a pig,” Vic replied as he took the reports left for him and resumed reading. “I’m sending them both back to Skyhold with an armed guard soon as Dorian can open a portal. Fenris is in no shape to remain and neither is Hal.” 

“That snoring is _Zevran?_ ” replied Arden with a blink of surprise. “I was sure that was Anders! I’ve never known him not to snore - apart from when he’s completely exhausted and very deep under. We won’t see much of him for hours then.” He frowned down at the report. “In which case, I’d best change and then go find Leliana and then the Inquisitor in short order. This is a report from the Montsimmard Circle and I was hoping Anders might be able to tell me what’s for the best regarding how to approach it.” He shrugged. “There’s also a request here for Anders to address a conclave of First Enchanters at the College of Magi in Cumberland - doubtless to discuss whether the College will be permanently relocating to Skyhold or he will be moving to take up his seat in the traditional location in Nevarra.” He sighed. “I know you, he and Fenris were originally planning to move to Nevarra after Kirkwall, before Anders and Hal were drafted by the Inquisition.Will you go back to your original plan if the Inquisition is disbanded? After all, there’s a permanent place for Anders and you all there as his family - and, I guess, me too.”

“It’s a bit soon to even be thinking of that,” shrugged Invictus. “It really depends on what Meneris decides to do.”

“Well, we can’t do anything until both he and Anders are awake,” shrugged Arden. “May as well enjoy the peace and quiet whilst it lasts - Maker knows, there’ll be little enough once we meet at the Council table again, if the attitude of Bann Teagan is anything to go by. I have the nasty feeling that if the Inquisition isn’t disbanded, then we’ll have open war on our hands.”

“I could throttle Bann Teagan for this chaos. The man acts like the Inquisition is another Orlesian invasion, just waiting for the chance to strike. If he’d said anything, I’m sure Meneris would have withdrawn the Inquisition’s forces, but now we have this mess.” Invictus sat back with a frown. “Do you think Meneris would disband? Or keep it together to spite them?” he wondered.

Arden snorted. “You want my honest opinion? I think given the slightest chance, he’d walk away from the whole damned mess and let the Fereldens and Orlesians fight it out between themselves, frankly. He just looks tired and permanently pissed off every time I see him.”

“He’d probably be happier if that’s what happened to be honest,” Invictus replied, further comments interrupted by another knock at the door.

Arden laid aside the documents in his hand and wandered to the door, coffee mug still in his left hand. He glanced over his shoulder at Invictus as he reached for the door handle. “Were we expecting anyone?” He opened the door, his eyes still on Invictus.

“No but maybe Anders is awake or Meneris?” Vic said as he rose and headed toward the door.

“No, Anders is still in bed -” Arden replied as he turned and found himself facing the Inquisitor. “Oh! Ah, sorry, Inquisitor. We’re still all not quite with it this morning.” He squinted at the light streaming through the windows at the far end of the hall. “Um. It _is_ still morning, isn’t it?”

“I think so, and don’t worry about it - we just woke up ourselves,” Meneris replied as he waited to be let in. Arden stepped back to let him past. 

“There’s still some fresh coffee in the pot I think,” he offered as Dorian followed the Inquisitor in; the Tevinter magister made straight for the pot with a grateful look.

“Morning to you both,” Vic said as he watched Dorian pour for himself and his husband. “Hopefully you both rested better than we did.”

“Somewhat, I’ve had better nights’ sleep.” Meneris took the mug, grateful for the dark brew. “How is everyone?”

“Anders is so out of it he’s not even snoring,” replied Arden. “Zevran’s fast asleep too, and at some point Hal managed to get up without waking me and is currently asleep with Fenris I believe.” He glanced at Invictus, who nodded in confirmation. “That should tell you just how with it _I_ was earlier,” went on the blond enchanter. 

“How are they doing? I can’t imagine they are alright,” Meneris asked with a glance to the door behind them.

Invictus looked away, unsure what to say about either man. “Not sure yet, I don’t think they’ll want to be separated for a while. I’d rather they go back to Skyhold to heal. Either Fenris will agree or he’ll fight it tooth and nail, I never know which way his mood will go.”

“I...” began Arden, then broke off, swallowing hard. “I would rather not be parted from Hal again, but... I can see that perhaps it would be better for him.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, his face going blank. “I’ll abide by whatever you order, Inquisitor,” he finished quietly, his tone colourless.

“I’m not going to order you to keep away from Hal, I think we all can count on today being a wash. Let’s see what tomorrow brings, and if Anders is up to it; then he can sit with me while you tend to your love.” Meneris gave Arden a sympathetic smile, worried for him as well.

Arden drew a deep breath then lifted his head, not quite meeting Meneris’ eye. “I will do my duty, Inquisitor,” he said, his voice still quiet. “There’ll... there’ll be time enough for Hal and I to be alone when we’re back at Skyhold, or... wherever the Grand Enchanter ends up being based.” He picked up the letters from the Montsimmard Circle and Cumberland and held them out to Meneris.

“Please look at me, Arden, right now just Meneris is fine. I came to check on my friends, not be the Inquisitor. I don’t care about those, I’m worried about all of you. The council can hang for all I care right now.” tThe elf glanced to Invictus who’d fallen quiet as well, his gaze on his coffee rather than the others.

Arden swallowed hard again, his face a little paler than usual, but he finally met Meneris’ gaze. “I’m sorry, Inquis- Meneris,” he corrected himself. “The past couple of days have been something of a strain, though I know it’s been far worse for others.”

“Go to Hal, we can chat out here Arden. It will be alright, we have them both back now. Just go to see him for yourself,” Meneris insisted.

Arden nodded jerkily, then seemed to recall the mug of coffee in his hand. He downed it swiftly before setting the empty mug down on the table then heading swiftly into the bedroom where Hal and Fenris lay.

“Poor man, he’s on edge too,” Vic said as he rose to refill his cup.

“You can’t be doing any better; what’s on your mind, Invictus?” Meneris asked.

Vic snorted as he leaned back to stare at the elf and his magister husband. “I’m worried for Fenris’ state of mind, I’m worried that Anders is going to work himself near death trying to heal, and I don’t even want to know what kind of earful Zevran will give Fenris once he’s through his relapse. Have you ever been on the receiving end of a scolding from him? He could have gone against mother any day and maybe come out even.” He snorted. “I’m not ok in the head but right now, I can’t fall apart. Between this damned joke of a Council meeting, keeping my husbands in one piece and now letting Fenris have space to deal with having Hal back, I’m kind of fucked up,” he admitted.

“Well, let’s give them all space to rest as much as they can for now,” shrugged Dorian. “I dare say the best thing for Anders would be to just sleep, eat, then sleep again really, and the same probably applies to Zevran. Perhaps when Hal has rested more, he’ll be able to handle the healing of his eyes once the stitches are out himself, assuming there’s no real damage beyond what we can see.”

“Considering how he broke into tears earlier, I’m guessing there’s not too much damage,” Vic said. “How are you both doing?” he glanced to Dorian, wondering how he honestly was holding up versus his spouse.

“I think I am likely doing better than Meneris, simply because my duties and responsibilities here are minimal, really,” shrugged Dorian. “My worries are purely focused around Meneris and supporting the rest of you as best I’m able.”

“Then get me a hefty drink and a spot no one else is sleeping in so I can just pretend none of this is happening,” Vic said before he let his eyes close. “My biggest fear is Fenris just closing in on himself as he sometimes does. Seeing Hal like that tripped all that guilt he was holding on to, and now that we’ve gotten them back, it’s going to be worse than when Hal was taken.”

“Perhaps knowing that Hal will need both him and Arden both will help him hold it together?” suggested Dorian. “Might give him the focus he needs. And I imagine when he learns of Zevran’s, ah, condition... that would effectively distract him too, yes?”

“Not sure, but I’m just glad we got him back. Seeing him in that fucking collar…” Vic let his composure crack.

Dorian gave him an alarmed look, then glanced to Meneris before he turned and cast his eyes around until he spotted a drinks cabinet near the door leading to the room shared by Anders and Zevran at present. He hurried over and began hunting for anything that looked like brandy.

“Invictus? It’s ok, he’s fine, he’s sleeping… Cullen took the collar off as soon as he saw it.” Meneris tried to calm their friend, startled at how fast he’d declined.

Dorian hurriedly thrust a glass of brandy into Invictus’ hand. “Here, get that inside you,” he urged him. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do this to you.” Vic sipped his drink, and sat back with a frown. “Guess I’m not as together as I thought, I apologize.”

“No, no, don’t apologise!” Dorian waved his apology away. “Maker, I’d be _far_ worse in your shoes, believe me. I’d likely have crawled into a bottle long before this.”

Invictus took another sip and sighed. “I should probably get a bath and have something besides coffee and brandy. Didn’t have much of breakfast.” 

“Why don’t you come with us for lunch, give yourself a break and let them talk?” Meneris offered.

The door to Anders’ room opened, and the blond mage stumbled in, rubbing at his eyes blearily as he made his way across the room to wrap his arms around Invictus and rest his head on his shoulder without saying a word.

“Hi, get enough sleep love?” Vic asked as he shifted to let Anders rest on his lap and be comfortable.

“Hmm?” Anders lifted his head to press a sleepy kiss to his husband’s cheek before letting his head drop back onto Invictus’ shoulder. “No... just wanted to be near you,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

“Guess I’m here for a while, would you mind sending a tray to us?” Vic asked Dorian as he nuzzled against Anders, glad to have him there, even if he was pinned to his chair.

“Of course,” replied Dorian, setting the brandy bottle down and heading to the door to ring for a servant.

Anders had half-curled up on Invictus’ lap, more than halfway back to sleep again as he rested in his husband’s arms. His eyes opened briefly again as Dorian went past, then closed again.

“Love you Anders.” Vic said as he held his husband close. Anders’ lips curled in a sleepy smile as he nuzzled closer, and then a few minutes later he began to snore softly.

For the moment, it was quiet.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a time-out; some, more than others.

Arden sat at the foot of the bed, gazing at Hal and Fenris as they slept entwined in each other’s arms, and had to fight very hard against the urge to climb into bed and draw them both into his arms, keep them both safe. He kept having to remind himself that this wasn’t his Fenris. Could never be his Fenris.

He’d cradled _his_ Fenris in his arms as the elf breathed his last; felt the warrior’s heart finally grow still. And his Fenris was not as tall as Anders, as this Fenris was - but as he lay there in sleep, it was all too easy to pretend.

He closed his eyes as he fought back a sob. He would not risk waking them both. Hal needed his rest every bit as much as Fenris did. But oh, Maker, it was so hard to simply sit there and watch.

He swallowed down the hot tears that had sprung unbidden to his eyes, and rose to his feet as he rubbed at them. They stung, and a couple of tears escaped as he opened them in spite of his will. He drew a long, shaking breath, then moved around the bed to stare down at them both as they slept on, oblivious to his scrutiny.

There was a stray strand of red hair that had fallen across Hal’s face. Though the young mage was blindfolded, Arden still found himself leaning forward to brush the rogue lock of hair back away from Hal’s face.

He couldn’t help himself. Letting the robe slip to the floor, he climbed carefully onto the bed to spoon up behind Hal, burying his face in the soft red hair and inhale the scent of him.

He was here. He really was here. After so many months missing, just when all of Arden’s memories had finally returned - he was really here. Arden didn’t entirely trust he wasn’t still dreaming, but the feel of Hal’s sleeping body against his - the very smell of him - reassured him that the young healer was indeed real, here, present and alive.

He closed his eyes, telling himself it was only for a few moments. He’d get up again shortly. Just a couple of minutes more....

Fenris opened his eyes, unsure when he’d drifted off again but glad he’d had more sleep. He slowly pulled away from Hal, stiff from the awkward position they’d slept in. He stilled as he noticed Arden had joined them. The blond mage was fast asleep, his face buried in Hal’s loose red hair at the nape of his neck, one hand draped limply around Hal’s waist. The former Champion of Hal’s own Thedas looked utterly exhausted.

As Fenris moved away from Hal, the young mage stirred, one hand reaching out and patting the mattress before he reached up to touch Arden’s hand. He turned his head blindly. “Fenris?” There was a note of confusion in his voice. 

“I’m here, I need to get up and find the privy if I can walk yet.” Fenris replied before he moved the edge of the bed and slowly got up, putting most of his weight on his good leg. 

“Wait,” said Hal, waking up more as his fingers closed over the limp hand at his waist. “If you’re over there, then who is it holding me?”

“Arden, he came in at some point while we slept. It’s probably hard on him to see us together, since your Fenris is gone. Spend time with him, I need to find the privy and I could eat a horse.” Fenris said as he tried to walk but found his leg stiff and aching. “Get Invictus...I need help.”

“I....” Hal looked uncertain, as far as Fenris could tell - it was hard to judge his expressions, with his eyes covered by what looked like the sash belt of Invictus’ robe, now Fenris could see it better in the light of day; Hal’s voice held a little waver to it however. “I’ll try,” Hal managed, as he tried to carefully shift away from Arden.

The blond mage’s grip tightened slightly on Hal for a moment before relaxing as Arden murmured something incoherent.

“Stay, I’ll just yell.” Fenris said as he made his way to the table and sat down with a grunt. “Vic!” he called out, glancing at Hal and Arden guiltily.

Arden jerked, startled awake. He blinked, disoriented, his arms around someone with red hair whilst across the room the white-haired warrior was watching him.

 _Hal. Fenris. Home,_ his mind prompted, and he smiled thankfully. “I have had the weirdest dream, loves,” he slurred sleepily. “Where’s Anders? He’s not going to believe this....”

Hal rolled over in his arms, and Arden thought his heart had suddenly stopped as he stared at the black sash across Hal’s eyes. It felt like there was an intense, crushing weight resting upon his chest. He lifted a hand that shook slightly as he reached for the sash, and then as he tugged it away from Hal’s face and saw the black stitches holding the red-haired mage’s eyes closed his breath finally escaped him in a disbelieving whimper.

“No... _no...._ ” he breathed.

Invictus came in to find Arden looking ready to panic, Fenris unsure of what to do and Hal coming around. “What’s wrong?”

Arden turned his head to stare at him and then threw himself down on the bed, burying his face in the pillow as he tried to stifle a sob. Hal was sitting up now, reaching out uncertainly to pat awkwardly at Arden.

“I... I think for a moment he thought he’d been dreaming,” said the blinded mage as he turned his head towards Invictus. “Fenris - Fenris, where are you?” He reached out one hand in the direction he’d heard Fenris’ voice last. “Please - Fenris....”

“I’m here, I called for help so you could stay with him.” Fenris looked to Invictus tiredly. “I need help walking, get me to the privy and then I need food, please love.” 

“Of course, I’ll send Anders in so he can work on you, Hal.” Vic helped Fenris to his feet and out towards their husband.

Anders was sitting in the chair where Invictus had left him, drowsily rubbing his eyes; the mage was now staring into a mug of coffee Dorian had just given him as if it somehow held the answers as to why he was wide awake and yet felt as though he’d hardly slept. He glanced up as Invictus returned with a heavily-limping Fenris, the look of tiredness in his eyes giving way to a pleased smile as he got to his feet.

“Love, you’re awake! Maker, I am so glad you’re up and walking,” he said as he took a step towards him. “How are you feeling?”

“Still tired, certain needs woke me up,” Fenris said as he gave Anders a grin. “Glad to be here with you again. Once I eat, I might need you to give me a hug. Still kind of fragile,” the elf admitted.

Anders nodded. “Whatever you need, love,” he promised. He frowned as the sound of a muffled sob came from the room they’d just left, and he tilted his head to listen. “That... doesn’t sound good,” he said slowly, glancing to Invictus and raising his eyebrows in query.

“Hal needs you and I think Arden woke up a bit...confused by things, he was distressed when he saw the stitches. I’ll bring Fenris after he eats something,” Vic said as he felt Fenris squeeze his waist.

Anders downed his coffee swiftly then headed towards the bedroom. “I’ll see what I can do,” he nodded. He disappeared into the bedroom, drawing the door closed behind him.

When Invictus and Fenris returned, the door was still closed, and Dorian was standing near it, leaning towards it with his head tilted a little on one side. “It’s gone awfully quiet in there,” he told them softly. “But I can feel that Anders is using magic.”

“He probably needs to concentrate on what he’s doing so Hal’s sight isn’t affected. Better leave them be until he’s done. Vic, help me sit please?” Fenris said as he leaned against his husband.

“I do hope Arden will be alright,” replied Dorian as he moved away from the door. “He sounded rather unhappy until shortly after Anders went in. But Anders has been busy working on Hal rather longer than I would have expected just to remove a few stitches. Checking him over and making sure there’s no long-term damage I suppose.” He moved over to the table to pour more coffee for them all. “It is such a relief to have you both back safely, _amicus_ ,” he went on. “Zevran is going to be very glad too when he wakes up, you can be sure!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Fenris asked as he took the coffee, grateful for the warmth.

“Lyrium relapse, he was asking for you when he woke up. Hopefully the rest has helped,” Vic replied.

“Anders said he’d be fine after a few days in bed,” shrugged Dorian. “Certainly he was looking better when we put Anders to bed yesterday when we’d gotten you all back safely - he was quite restless in fact. Wanted to come see for himself you were alright, but Arden wouldn’t let him out of bed.”

“Maybe we can check on Zevran since Anders is busy? Well, after I eat something?” Fenris asked quietly. Dorian opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted as the door to Fenris’ bedroom opened and Hal stepped out, Arden’s hand upon his shoulder, Anders bringing up the rear.

Hal’s eyes were open, the stitches gone, though his eyelids were red with fresh, barely-healed scars. He was blinking, dazzled by the light, his eyes not fully adjusted after months of blindness, and there was blood smeared upon his cheeks, but the expression upon his face was one of relief. He glanced around as Arden guided him gently into the room, and then he gave Fenris a grin as his eyes fell upon the elf.

“Hey, good to see you again,” Fenris said as he gave Hal a shy grin. 

“Oh for Maker’s sake, get up so you can give him a hug.” Vic offered his arm for his husband. 

“Vic….don’t force it, please,” Fenris said quietly, his gaze on Hal to see what the other man wanted.

Hal glanced at Arden who nodded to him then gave him a gentle nudge in Fenris’ direction before turning to Anders, who reached up to squeeze his shoulder with a sympathetic look.

Hal crossed to Fenris and hesitated for barely a second before he flung his arms around Fenris and hugged him. “I can see you at last - oh Maker! My eyes are stinging and I don’t know if it’s because the light is so bright or because I’m so glad to see you!”

“Glad to have you back, and that you can see again.” Fenris returned his hug, trying to ignore the stinging in his own eyes.

“You’ll likely find the light too bright for a little while, but your eyes should adjust in a day or two,” said Anders. “I suggest you sit down and eat; you’ve lost far too much weight. Maker knows there was little enough of you to begin with.”

“Sounds like another spirit healer I know,” remarked Arden quietly, though loud enough that the others heard him as Anders coloured slightly.

“Point taken,” Anders replied. “Speaking of which, I should eat and then, I think, I shall need to sleep again. I was tapped out of mana completely by that jump yesterday, and I think healing you has taken what little I’d managed to regenerate. I hope Meneris wasn’t planning on any of us being any use today, for I certainly won’t be.”

“I’m fairly certain Meneris will have had Josephine clear the diary completely for both today and tomorrow,” shrugged Dorian. “It was fairly clear you were all too exhausted and in need of time to recover. I suspect Aeolus is still a-bed with Isabela.”

“I can’t...walk unaided so I won’t argue against more rest. I do want to check on Zevran after we eat.” Fenris sat back from Hal reluctantly before he nudged the young mage to his feet. “Sorry, I’m still stiff.”

“Love do you want me to wake Zevran? He should eat too,” Vic offered.

Hal shifted from Fenris’ arms to the empty chair next to the elf. Anders nodded as he and Arden joined them at the table, Arden sitting the other side of Hal, one hand resting lightly upon Hal’s knee as though still reassuring himself by that light touch that Hal was really there, flesh and blood and alive.

“Assuming he feels up to trying food now,” Anders replied to Invictus.

“Alright, be back in a bit.” Invictus slipped out to the room where Anders and Zevran had slept earlier. He stepped in to find the Antivan awake at last. Zevran was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand braced against the nearest upright of the bed, about to attempt hauling himself to his feet with a look of grim determination that shifted briefly to a look of surprised guilt before the Antivan smoothed it over with a smile. 

“Invictus! It sounds as though everyone is awake. And unless my ears deceive me, Fenris has returned to us none the worse for wear after some healing, no? And - Hal too? He has suffered no lasting harm?” His smile belied the faint tone of worry in his voice.

“Yes, Fenris wanted to see you love. Come on and let me help you,” Vic offered.

Zevran managed to get to his feet and took a cautious step, testing his strength, before he glanced up at Invictus. “I think that I would appreciate your help, my love,” he nodded.

“Shall I carry you?” Vic asked. Zevran shook his head.

“No... but if you would lend me your arm?” He glanced up at Invictus. “I would rather greet Fenris upon my own two feet.”

“Of course, come on, he’ll be pleased to see you.” Vic said as he escorted his other elven spouse into the room. 

Fenris glanced up when they entered, a bright smile for his Antivan spouse. “Good to see you up and about _carissimi_.” 

Zevran managed a smile for Fenris. “And it is good to be up, my heart. Though...” His expression grew serious, his brows drawing down into a frown. “ _Carissimi_ , I think I must have words with you. I am certain you know, why, yes?”

Fenris nodded, his smile dropping as he edged away from Zevran without thinking. Whenever his elven husband got on a tear, he was more terrifying than when he played with daggers. “Yes...Zevran.”

The Antivan regarded Fenris sombrely for a moment, then sighed as he made his way to the chair next to Fenris and sat down.

“ _Carissimi_ , please do not back away from me. I am unarmed and I do not think I would have it in me to be a threat to anything stronger than perhaps a kitten right now.” He eyed Fenris, then slowly shook his head. “I will not shout at you, my love. I am merely... disappointed that you ran off so unthinkingly. Had I not been so ill myself, I think I would have gone out of my mind with worry for you. As it is, I have been unable to think of anything but you, what happened to you....” He stared at Fenris, then reached out one hand to rest it upon Fenris’ shoulder.

“You are alive, my heart. And I... I thank... Mythal that you have come back to us. To me.” Zevran stared into Fenris’ eyes, then slowly crumpled against the taller elf, shaking as he held back a sob. 

Fenris held Zevran, his own tears falling as he felt the other elf shaking in his arms. “ _I fear you when you wield words as surely as you can throw daggers Zevran. Sorry I failed you, all of you,_ ” he whispered in Antivan.

“You did not fail, my heart,” whispered Zevran. “You succeeded where we did not; you found Hal, and he is alive and restored to us. Do not blame yourself, _carissimi_.”

“I was foolish, and did the thing I had railed at Anders for doing so long ago. It was luck that got me to Hal, so something good came of my stupidity. I’m sorry.” Fenris rested his head on Zevran’s shoulder, sighing tiredly. 

Zevran straightened a little. “I think Anders has -” He paused as he glanced around for the blond mage, and then he gave a low chuckle. “I do not think Anders will be doing anything impetuous just now, my heart,” he smiled, gesturing at where Anders had fallen asleep in a chair, his half-full mug of coffee precariously balanced in his hands as they rested in his lap.

Fenris frowned at the sight of their husband, so tired he was nodding off like that. Another pang of guilt hit the elf before he buried his head against Zevran’s shoulder. Zevran lifted his arms to hug Fenris back.

“It will be alright, _carissimi_ ,” he murmured. “He is merely very tired. He needs to sleep, but he will be fine by tomorrow. Once this wretched council is over, we can all return to Skyhold, yes? And then all will be well once more.”

“I want to go home now, I miss my children,” Fenris mumbled against his husband.

“It would perhaps be best if you and Hal return to Skyhold now, Fenris,” said Arden quietly. “I can send you back - no need to tax your powers so soon after being healed.”

Hal glanced up at him, startled. “You - you want to send me away from you?” he exclaimed, startled. 

Arden cupped his hands to Hal’s face. “I don’t want that at all,” he said softly. “But I have to consider what’s best for you, love. You need rest and peace - and there’ll be little of either here until this damned council is over.”

“What’s best for me is to be where _you_ are, Arden,” said Hal fiercely as he got to his feet and reached out to grasp the other man’s shoulders, leaning over him. “Do you think after months apart - just after you’d finally remembered all we are to each other - do you really think I’d consent to be sent from your side?”

Arden lifted his hands to wrap around Hal’s waist as he stared up at the red-head.

Invictus glanced up at Hal, then glanced to Fenris. “What do you want love?”

“I...don’t know. I want to be with you all but avoiding the politics here, being with Pin and Callus also sounds more enjoyable,” Fenris replied quietly.

“This is no place for children,” said Arden. “Not until this Qunari threat has been dealt with.”

“I wouldn’t bring them here, and they aren’t children - not with the lives they’ve had.” Fenris said. “Off me, I am still hungry and you’re a attractive distraction from lunch, Zevran.” 

Zevran straightened and released Fenris. “Lunch? Did I sleep the whole morning away?” he exclaimed in dismay.

“I’m afraid so, we all slept in a bit late,” Fenris said as he reached for a plate.

“That includes us too,” Meneris said as he entered, glad to see his spymaster up and about. “Feeling better, Zevran?”

“Moderately well,” nodded the Antivan. “And I shall be all the better once I have eaten.” He reached for a plate as well. 

Arden tugged Hal down back into his own chair before he reached for a plate and put together a small helping that the emaciated mage should be able to manage, casting a glance to Anders as he did so. “Someone should wake Anders long enough to get something into him,” he remarked.

“I’ll do it, I managed to get in some food while other things were going on.” Invictus rescued the coffee before it could fall before nudging his husband awake. “Food, come get some.”

Anders’ eyes opened slowly and gazed blearily up at Invictus. “Huh? Oh... food....” He blinked drowsily before his eyes slid closed again.

“Yes, food. Come on Anders, unless you want me to carry you,” Vic said as he took the other mage’s hand. 

Anders managed to open his eyes again. “Sorry... just so tired,” he apologised. “Just want to sleep.”

“Get something to eat and I’ll get you to bed again love, please?” Vic asked.

Anders sighed, then nodded. With Invictus’ help, he got to his feet and stumbled over to the table, dropping into a chair then staring as Arden slid a full plate over to him. He took up a fork and began to eat mechanically, the glazed look in his eyes suggesting he was more than halfway asleep still and not too aware of his surroundings.

“I could go back to bed myself now that I’ve had food,” Fenris said as he leaned back, eyes closing despite the room being full of people.

“We’re all bloody exhausted. I’m just hoping that the Council doesn’t use this against us; Teagan came to this ready to fight for us to be disbanded. We’re not another Orlais ready to take over Ferelden,” Meneris said.

“We’ll deal with the Qunari first, and then Bann Teagan afterwards - I notice the Fereldens haven’t exactly been co-operating to help track down this Qunari threat, either,” added Arden. “Once again they’re all happy to sit back and let the Inquisition do all the dirty work, and then they’ll complain about footprints on the carpet afterwards no doubt.” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m Ferelden myself but they make me ashamed to admit it.” He reached for the wine and poured himself a glass.

“I’m surprised at Teagan to be honest. He would be dead if not for the Warden’s help during the last blight. He’d have lost half his family as well, but he’s ready to pitch the Inquisition out on it’s ear for being present. I know he lived through the occupation, but this isn’t the same thing,” Invictus added.

“True; but the occupation was over before you were born, correct, Hawke? You didn’t live through that, it colors your ability to see others as less than a threat to your freedom. I get where he’s coming from; I still hate it though,” Meneris replied.

Arden sighed. “Is Alistair king in Ferelden here as he is in our Thedas?” he asked. “I can’t believe Teagan would be doing this with Alistair and Anora’s blessing, surely?”

Anders lifted his head and managed to focus his eyes on Arden. “You forget that Anora is Loghain’s daughter. She’s grown up hearing her father’s stories of the occupation. Alistair will not go against his queen, and Anora is no friend to the Inquisition.”

“No indeed,” agreed Dorian. “We saw that for ourselves when Meneris recruited the mages at Redcliffe. We gave them sanctuary, really - Alistair ordered them all out of Ferelden. I don’t think that did us any favours in his eyes. You can be sure that Teagan is merely following his King’s line and policy.”

Fenris opened his eyes and looked to Meneris. “Is anyone from Tevinter or the Anderfels present? Surely the agreements you’ve made should get you support? Not that the Archon or the Black Divine’s word would mean much here but you did come to an accord.” 

The Dalish warrior shrugged. “They know better than to show their faces here, especially the...Black Divine as he’s called. I have letters of support I can read, but considering how things started off? That will be the nail in the coffin since the Fereldens and Orlesians hate the Wardens, let alone saying we have support from Tevinter. Though Dorian could speak on that if pressed.” 

“And Dorian prefers to keep his mouth shut, because somehow I doubt anyone at this council is at all well disposed towards a Tevinter magister in their midst,” shrugged Dorian. “My role here really would be to observe and then report back to Tevinter what the results of the talks are. I dare say a fair number of those agreements will be just so much waste paper shortly.”

“The offers of collaboration and support between the Tevinter circles and the College will still stand, regardless,” shrugged Arden. “Isn’t that so, Anders?”

Anders made no reply; as they turned and glanced at him, they realised he’d fallen asleep between one forkful of food and the next and was in danger of faceplanting into his food.

Fenris reached over to keep Anders from wearing his lunch and smacking himself hard with a fork. “Come on, back to bed with you.” He rose and tried to rouse his mage enough for him to get back to bed. 

Zevran rose and tried to help Fenris rouse the almost-comatose mage; Anders was stirring, but sluggishly, his eyes barely half-open as he attempted to stand. “Sorry,” he slurred.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry you’re like this thanks to my stupidity.” Fenris said as he helped Anders back into the bedroom and over to the bed. “Sleep, I’ll join you soon… if you want.”

Anders sank down onto the bed with a soft sigh. “I’ll sleep like the dead,” he declared drowsily, his eyes already closed.

“Alright, rest well my heart.” Fenris kissed his lover’s temple before returning to the table for another helping. He glanced at Invictus, curious about why he’d been so quiet. 

“What do you think I should do Vic?” he asked.

“Honestly? I think you and Hal should go home and rest. Not because I am angry or upset but you’ve had your leg broken, Hal has had months of abuse at that fucker’s hands and neither of you will get a chance to heal if you remain here. However, the choice is yours love I won’t make that decision for you.” Invictus went back to his meal and ignored the way the others were looking at him.

“Zevran really ought to go back as well,” said Dorian. “After all, he’s only just coming out of a rather nasty relapse from the lyrium.”

“I am still needed,” disagreed the Antivan as he reached for the wine. “We still do not know the meaning of why that first Qunari was inside the palace, wounded. If he were part of an invasion force, why would he flee _from_ the Eluvian to the place he supposedly was meant to be infiltrating? What is their purpose?” He glanced up at Dorian. “The Inquisition still has need of me, hmm?” 

“Of course we have need of you, Zevran,” Meneris cut in with an apologetic glance to his husband. “However, you’ll be no good to anyone if you push too hard again.”

Zevran sighed. “It is hard. I am not used to my body placing limitations upon me like this. It is... frustrating.”

“The Inquisitor is right however, Zevran,” said Arden with a slight frown. “If you keep pushing, sooner or later your body is going to push back.”

Hal’s eyes had been upon his plate during the discussion; at Arden’s words, he looked up at Zevran. “I’ve seen the damage inside your body - the old scars, the injuries that still bother you. They’ve all gradually built up over the years. Zevran, you’re not getting any younger, and your body is reaching the limits of what damage it can tolerate. You need to give it a chance to recover and heal.”

Zevran stared at him, then threw his napkin down angrily and rose from the table, snatching up his glass of wine without a word before stalking back to the bedroom he’d been sharing with Anders.

Hal’s eyes dropped back to his plate. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said quietly. “Now he probably thinks we were ganging up on him.”

Fenris got up and headed after his husband, unsure what had set him off. He found the door locked, but he didn’t just phase through the handle knowing the other elf. “Zev, let me in please?”

“ _Carissimi_ , please... go, leave me be,” came Zevran’s voice from the other side, muffled by the door. It sounded as though he were perhaps leaning against the door.

“I am worried for you, I won’t say a word if you wish silence. I would rather be with you right now, please.” Fenris hoped the other elf would let him in.

There was no sound from the other side of the door for several minutes, until finally Fenris heard the quiet click of the key in the lock. He pushed open the door carefully, to find Zevran sitting upon the end of the bed near Anders’ feet as the mage slept on, oblivious. Zevran was staring into his half-full wine glass morosely; he didn’t look up as Fenris entered.

The warrior shut the door, locked it again and made his way to Zevran, lowered himself to the floor and leaned his head against his husband’s knee. Zevran stared down at him; after a moment, he slipped a hand into Fenris’ hair, stroking it gently.

“Ah, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “I cannot help but wonder. Will you always follow after me like this? Even when I am become useless and worthless even to myself?”

“I will follow you to the Black City, the Void itself Zevran. Never doubt my heart,” Fenris replied. 

“I have seen you watching when I limp,” Zevran said quietly. “I know the others talk of it behind my back. And now this relapse, when I had thought the craving for lyrium had left me for good. What Hal said... _Carissimi_ , what will become of me when my body betrays me at the last - when I am no longer of any use? Crows do not live long; the life is short, brutal, and there are no old Crows - there are few who have reached my rank by my age. And yet I am not so old as Anders.” He glanced back at the sleeping man, and sighed.

“I’ll take care of you until you breathe your last. I did not take you into my heart merely for your body, or your well being. I love you and no matter what comes I am at your side my heart.” Fenris looked to his husband with love and affection. “I am here for you until the end, do not speak as if you are bed bound already, and even if you were I would be at your side.”

“Truly? You would stay with me even if I were crippled and helpless, my love?” Zevran’s fingers stilled for a moment in Fenris’ hair. “Even when I am useless to all others, a worn out thing to be cast aside?” he whispered.

Fenris turned to stare at the other elf. “Yes, a thousand times yes. I would not abandon you Zevran, never think that of me.”

Zevran stared down at him, and then set his wineglass carefully down to one side upon the floor before carefully lowering himself to sit behind Fenris, wrapping his arms around the taller elf’s waist as he rested his head against Fenris’ broad, strong back, and he sighed softly.

“Fenris... I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too.” Fenris replied, hands going around the other elf’s. “As long as you’ll have me, I’m here.”

There was the sound of a sleepy half-articulated sound that might have been Fenris’ name as Anders shifted on the bed, then he softly slurred, “Love you both too....”

“Come, let’s get to bed. I would like to rest with you both if you don’t mind.” Fenris asked.

Zevran nodded. “Yes... I would like that,” he agreed.

“So would I,” murmured Anders before yawning. 

Fenris got up, unlocked the door so the others wouldn’t worry about them before he pulled his tunic off and crawled into bed with two of his spouses. Zevran had already spooned up against Anders, but as Fenris joined them he turned onto his back and tilted his head to kiss the other elf. Anders rolled over so he could face Fenris across Zevran, and he rested his hand on Zevran’s chest over the Antivan’s heart. Fenris smiled at them both as he covered Anders’ hand with his own; the mage’s eyes were already drifting closed again.

“Ah, _carissimi,_ ” murmured Zevran. “Thank Mythal that you are safe again.”

***

Invictus kept glancing at Fenris between sips of coffee, curious as to whether the elf had decided on going back to Skyhold. He’d been reserved every time they’d asked him about it over the three days since being rescued, until Invictus had pushed a bit too much the night before.

Fenris ignored all of them in favor of a report from Dorian and coffee. He’d made a decision but they would wait until he felt ready to discuss it.

Hal and Arden had gone back into the bedroom Anders had been using and closed the door; they had been in there for perhaps an hour now. Anders glanced up from the letter from the Montsimmard circle to frown at the closed door. “Do you think they’re alright in there?” he wondered.

“Probably not, Arden has two of his three lovers back and I remind him of a dead man. He was not alright while Hal was missing either,” Fenris replied as he kept his gaze on his reports.

“I’ll agree with our love on this,” Vic said, curious about their elf’s refusal to look at them.

“I know Arden is very worried about Hal’s safety if he stays here,” said Anders slowly. “He doesn’t want to send Hal away, but he doesn’t want to risk anything further to him either.”

“Perhaps Arden should be listening more carefully to what Hal is trying to tell him,” shrugged Zevran.

Fenris glanced at the other elf then back at his reports, keeping his own thoughts to himself as he read over the same paragraph until it looked blurry to him. He set it aside and sat back with his coffee. 

“I suppose ultimately it’s up to Meneris as Inquisitor,” shrugged Anders as he poured himself another coffee. He sipped it, then set down his cup to frown again at the Montsimmard missive. “Maker. I think I foresee a trip to Nevarra in my near future.”

“For what?” Fenris asked, voice a bit sharper than necessary. 

Anders sighed. “My reforms for the Circle and so forth. They want to hold a conclave of First Enchanters to discuss the timetable for implementing the reforms and to debate them. Which... I should have guessed would have to happen, now I’m Grand Enchanter. The traditional seat of the Grand Enchanter is at Cumberland in Nevarra, hence why I’d have to go there.” He glanced up at Invictus. “You too, love - you’re a First Enchanter now after all.” His lips curved into a wry smile. “Looks like we get another trip to Nevarra together.” 

Fenris narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue the point; he’d wait until they were alone. Instead he refreshed his coffee and pretended to read his reports.

“Love, I know that look; what’s wrong now?” Vic asked.

“Later, when we have privacy,” was the elf’s terse reply.

“At least the conclave should be fairly fast-moving,” shrugged Anders as he glanced back at the reports and missives in front of him. “With so many Circles annulled or disbanded, it’s not as though we’re exactly swimming in First Enchanters. I expect that will make the reforms easier to push through, but it does mean one of the first things the conclave will have to agree on and initiate will be setting up colleges in place of the old Circle towers, and assigning new First Enchanters - which isn’t exactly something I can leave to Arden.”

“True enough, and it would be nice to have more of that Nevarran coffee we had at Cassandra’s family farm. I suppose if we have to go, we’ll go.” Vic rose finally, sure whatever was bothering Fenris, the elf would speak on it eventually. 

“I need a bath, and I should get ready for today’s circus - pardon, I mean Council meeting. See you all in the great hall.” Vic gave both his spouses a kiss before parting, leaving Anders, Fenris and Zevran to themselves.

“Whatever’s going on between Arden and Hal, I hope they finish up soon,” shrugged Anders. “I need to get bathed and changed fairly urgently as well - in fact, even more so than Vic. He just has to stand around nodding gravely at all my pronouncements really - it’s me who has to try and talk down Teagan from being an ass again and launching us all headlong into open warfare.” He sighed. “This would be why the Wardens keep out of politics,” he muttered to himself as he got to his feet before downing the last of his coffee then shuffling his papers together into rough order.

“Why don’t you just knock? They have to know time is short before meetings start this morning.” Fenris said quietly. 

“Because - well -” Anders blushed slightly, and Zevran gave a low chuckle.

“Because they have both been rather quiet, and our husband doesn’t want to take the chance of interrupting them, ah, in the middle of... making up for lost time?” The Antivan’s grin was wicked.

“Then boot Vic out or join him in the bath. That tub is large enough for both of you, I’ll take my bath when you’re done,” Fenris replied.

“That’s actually... yes, I think I’ll do that,” nodded Anders. He glanced to Zevran. “Love -”

“Go, bathe,” smiled Zevran. “I shall herd out the lovebirds in time for you to retrieve your gowns of state, yes?”

“It’s - they’re not - it’s _robes_ , Zevran, not a dress!” exclaimed Anders. Zevran merely waved him off with a grin; Anders stalked off, muttering half-heartedly to himself about “ _not_ a bloody dress!”

Fenris finally quit pretending he was interested in the reports he’d had all morning and went to stretch out on the _chaise longue_ until he could get into his rooms. 

Zevran watched, and then quietly got up and made his way over to sit on the edge of the _chaise_ and run one hand gently along Fenris’ arm. 

“ _Carissimi?_ ” he asked quietly.

“Hmm, yes?” Fenris asked as he turned to look at his spouse. “What’s wrong?”

“Now, that is what I was about to ask you, my heart,” smiled Zevran. “You are not happy that Anders and Vic may have to go to Nevarra. You know that they would not go without us by their side, hmm?” He tilted his head slightly. “Or is that your concern? That we must travel so far and then spend maybe a few weeks surrounded by mages and all that dreary talking?”

“That is some of it; there is also my decision to go back to Skyhold or remain here. I know Arden sent a note back to Pin but I miss my little girl.” Fenris took Zevran’s hand in his as he considered the choice he’d made and how they may take it.

“ _Carissimi_ , your little girl is not so little. Come, why not write to her yourself? Arden or Dorian can relay your missive to her very swiftly after all. Or perhaps go back to visit her for a day or two? Your brother is still here with Isabela; you still have the rings Dorian gave you both, yes? That allow you to speak to each other? You could go visit, and your brother can keep you informed of what happens?” Zevran regarded Fenris thoughtfully. “We have ways and means, _carissimi_ , that no-one else in all of Thedas could ever dream of.” He smiled.

“Would you laugh if I said I feel rather useless here? I am part of the Inquisition and under their scrutiny or derision depending on who you ask. I ...have a home with you, Vic, Anders and the kids. What if this falls apart? What if Meneris decides to disband the Inquisition? I spoke with anger and bravado about not caring if it happened. I’m happy, and I don’t ...I can’t face what would happen if I was to lose something I’m sort of good at,” Fenris admitted.

Zevran’s smile slipped, and then dropped entirely as he glanced away slightly. “Leliana has already asked me what I intend to do should the Inquisition disband,” he admitted. 

“Of course she has. Probably plotting to make you her Left Hand and further split us apart,” Fenris snapped.

“No, merely concerned that the old friend she has known so long will likely not survive long should he attempt to continue in his former career as an assassin, and so she wished to make him aware that there would be a place for him if he wished or needed it,” Zevran said very quietly. He tried to smile. “She - she understands, _carissimi_ , that becoming useless, unwanted... it-” He broke off suddenly, then sighed. “You have seen already how my body betrays me; Hal made it quite plain that I cannot expect anything but more of this. And you know how I cannot abide to be weak, useless, a burden. Leliana seeks only to reassure me that if the Inquisition no longer needs me, then she will. That there will be a place I can go.” He turned to Fenris. “I told her I am not alone any longer; I have a place to go, and that is wherever you, Invictus and Anders are, my heart.”

Fenris sighed and squeezed his husband’s hand. “Forgive me, I am afraid I will lose you if you ever became restless or the Inquisition disbands. I am unsure of a lot of things right now Zevran, and I’m being unfair. Forgive me.”

“Never, my heart,” replied Zevran. “Why would I accept such a position when it would take me so far away from you?”

“My heart is weak right now with fear, normally the thought wouldn’t cross my mind. Perhaps I should just quit now,” Fenris muttered.

Zevran’s fingers tightened on his. “Love, you are not weak. We are still all not quite come to terms with all that has come to pass during these benighted talks, yes?” He turned slightly towards Fenris; as he was about to speak again, the door to Anders’ room opened and Arden and Hal emerged. From the redness of Hal’s eyes, it was clear the young mage had been crying.

The warrior sat up and looked to his younger lover with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m going back. To Skyhold,” said Hal quietly, his voice trembling a little. “Arden was right. I... if the Qunari break in... I likely pose a threat to all of you. I was indoctrinated by the Qunari for several months. I don’t know just how far that’s affected me. I would be useless in the event of an attack right now. So the - the only logical, rational thing to do is to go back.”

“You won’t be alone, I’m going back for a few days as well. Does that help at all?” Fenris offered. 

“You - you are?” said Hal, startled. He glanced to Arden, who seemed just as surprised as Hal.

“Yes, I need ...a little time.” He glanced to Zevran in apology. “I’d meant to say so at dinner but …”

Zevran had gone very still for a moment, but as Fenris spoke, he seemed to relax slightly as he turned to his husband. “Perhaps a little rest will do you good, _carissimi_ , no? And this way you may see your children for a while.”

“I hope so, at least Pin will be satisfied with seeing me instead of a letter.” He skirted around the others for the bath and hopefully time alone to get his head together before a very long day.

As he left, he heard Hal exclaiming, “But... Pin couldn’t even read a letter when -”

Fenris didn’t reply as he shut the door to the bathing chamber, but he did catch his brother’s voice as well as Meneris before he started the water going.

***

Isabela accepted the glass of brandy from Zevran and smiled. “Ever the gentleman, Zevran!”

“ _Always_ a gentleman, I would hope, Bela,” he replied with a smile.

“See, when _I_ do that I get viewed with suspicion and everyone suspects me of ulterior motives,” complained Dorian.

“That’s because in your case, Dorian, I _know_ there’d be ulterior motives,” chuckled Isabela. “It certainly wouldn’t be due to my feminine wiles.” 

Meneris laughed until he caught a glare from his husband. “Come on love, you have to admit we’ve been short on laughs around here. I meant nothing by it.” 

Dorian sighed. “You have a point, but does it have to be at my expense?”

“Where Dorian is from, jokes like that are often the prelude to something more unpleasant, I believe,” said Zevran. “Come - for my part, even if it were tangential, I apologise.”

“Sorry, Dorian, I forget your Imperial sorts are so backwards about such things,” shrugged Isabela. “At sea, pretty much everyone everyone is quite used to matelotage.”

Aeolus chuckled at Meneris’ blank look. “Seamen have always had a long tradition of same-sex partners, Inquisitor. Most crews are all-male - and it’s commonplace for bunkmates to form deeper attachments. There’s no shame to it; never has been. And whilst it’s not widely talked about, the captain of a ship does have the power to conduct a marriage.”

“And if all your crew are men, who do you think is getting married?” Isabela grinned and gave Dorian a wink. “Now, if you and your fine Inquisitor husband had come to me first, Dorian, I could have spared you all that faff and pompous nonsense. You’d have been married in the morning and on your honeymoon in Rivain by evening.” She winked at Meneris. 

“Wanna get married again when this is over? Sail away to Rivain and maybe try to find a hut in the woods?” Meneris grinned at his husband wickedly.

“Hmm, I must admit the idea does have its attractions,” agreed Dorian.

“There you are then - it’s settled,” grinned Isabela.

“I hope you mean to have a smaller affair than last time,” Fenris said with a grin.

“Oh, quite,” nodded Dorian. “No cake castles taller than we can see over - and I do hope that this time both best men will not be slipping off for a little quickie on the balcony during the reception, hmm?” He grinned.

Fenris felt his face warm as he glanced away from Dorian. He hadn’t realized they knew, and he wished he hadn’t blushed so easily. 

“Oh don’t scandalize your amicus Dorian. You know he can be a bit devious when he wants to. Except when he’s --” Meneris’ words were cut off as Fenris glanced up at the other elf.

“No, not another word Lavellan...Mythal, you are worse than Dorian sometimes. No wonder you make such a good pair.” Fenris said as he hoped the other elf wasn’t going to embarrass him further.

Anders and Invictus returned at that point, Anders towelling off his long hair as he wandered in, a towel around his waist. He paused as Dorian glanced at him then smirked. The blond mage glanced around at the others with a confused look. “What?” he asked, as Isabela smirked in turn before hiding her smile behind her brandy glass.

“Nothing, nothing at all! I think I am going to get a bath now, yes a long bath until all of you are gone to your meetings.” Fenris said as he tried to avoid looking at Meneris and Dorian, sure they both were enjoying themselves. He hadn’t forgot the proposition they’d made but it wasn’t the time and he wasn’t in the right space for it. The Inquisitor’s teasing wasn’t malicious but he felt like running anyway.

“Sure,” said Anders, bemused. “I need to get into my robes - Meneris, how long before the council reconvenes?”

“A couple of hours at most, there was talk of having breakfast with the Divine, myself and you of course before we start proceedings for the day. Josephine will join us as well. I’m off to get into something more...Inquisitorial I suppose. Why don’t you stay love, and visit with your amicus once he’s out of the bath?” Meneris gave his husband a long parting kiss before leaving them to start the day.

“What is with you and Meneris? I’ve never seen Fenris hightail it out of a room that fast in ages.” Invictus asked as he sat with Aeolus and Isabela. Isabela chuckled.

“Oh, we all were teasing Fenris that we knew what he and Anders got up to out on the balcony after the Inquisitor’s wedding,” she grinned.

“You... you all knew?” exclaimed Anders, blushing hotly. “Andraste’s flaming knickers!”

“Ah, he’s going to be blushing when he sees you for a while then. I really thought no one had known. At least he’s in a better mood than when we got him back, normally he’d be ready to snap at you for that. Better for us I suppose.” Vic grinned at the others.

“I - I guess,” stammered Anders. “Um. Well. It was... stress relief?” 

“You both were ready to run off by the time the reception rolled around. I thought Fenris was going to just go fly off from the balcony with how nervous he was.” Vic winked at Anders before he rose to get ready. “As much fun as teasing you is, we should be getting ready love.”

“Uh, yes, getting dressed....” stammered Anders before hastily fleeing in the direction of his bedroom much as Fenris had fled earlier.

“He does blush so prettily,” mused Isabela as she watched him go. 

“He does, they both do.” Vic mused as he snagged a scone on his way past. “Aeolus, if you haven’t had a chance to talk with Fenris, he’ll likely try to stay in the bath for a while. Sometimes it’s a good way to get him to open up. You didn’t hear that from me though, see you later.”

The tattooed elf straightened from where he leaned against Isabela’s chair. “Hmm, perhaps I will visit my brother then,” he mused.

“Might be an idea,” nodded Isabela. “Go; I have my brandy. Well, Dorian’s brandy,” she amended as the Tevinter magister winked at her.

“Indeed,” he grinned. His brands lit up briefly and then he vanished. Invictus blinked; not only had the silvery lyrium upon the left side of Aeolus’ body lit up, but he could have sworn the blackwork tattoos on the other half of the elf’s body had also lit up somehow, just before he vanished.

**  
Fenris jumped at the sudden blaze of light in the bathing chamber, his own brands lighting on reflex. He let his dim once he realized it was his sibling. “Don’t do that, you nearly got a hand in your chest for that brother.”

Aeolus grinned from where he stood near the door then grabbed a nearby stool and brought it over to sit near the tub. “I wonder if you really could do that if I were phased as well? Wouldn’t your hand just pass through me? Not that I’m keen to experiment,” he added with a shrug as he sat.

Fenris sat back in the tub and glared at his brother. “Any reason you decided to scare me like that?” 

“Quickest way to pop in to talk to you,” shrugged Aeolus before he leaned forward. “But seriously now. How are you? What did they do to you?”

The younger elf let his gaze drop to the water, unsure how honest he wanted to be with Aeolus. He spoke quickly, voice low as he recounted what had happened, his fury over Bull’s betrayal. Fenris didn’t answer as to how he was, instead falling quiet.

Aeolus regarded his brother thoughtfully. “Fenris... Leto. I may not know you as well as I would like; circumstances have not been fair to either of us. But I can see that you are not yourself. Hal has returned to you, to you all - but he bears scars both outwardly and inwardly. You are still very worried for him I think.”

“They collared me, and I kept getting put under with some ...drug. I...don’t know how I’m doing, or rather I can’t put word to it,” Fenris said as he stared into the water, unable to look his brother in the eye.

“We have both been slaves. It is hard to be returned to that state, even temporarily,” said Aeolus quietly. He leaned forward to squeeze Fenris’ shoulder gently. “I am sorry you had to endure that.”

“Thanks...I guess I should get out, I’m not getting any cleaner sitting in a cold tub,” Fenris replied.

Aeolus shrugged. “True,” he remarked as he got to his feet and reached for a towel. “You’ll go back to Skyhold then?”

“For a short while, I cannot deal with the Council and their grandstanding right now. I’m also tired of the way the Ferelden delegation carries on as if the Inquisition is trying to take over the country.” Fenris took the towel, drying off quickly before wrapping it around his waist. 

“Are you alright? You never said what brought you here anyway,” asked the warrior as he gathered his clothes.

“We’d dropped in at Skyhold and were told by Parcival that you were all over here in Orlais. So Isabela and I thought we’d drop by and see how you were - only to be told you were missing.” Aeolus ran a hand through his braided hair. “I was concerned for you.”

“It was my own fault, your little brother can be incredibly stupid at times.” Fenris led them back into the main room so he could dress and continue their talk.

“You were concerned for Hal,” replied Aeolus as he followed. “Your Commander Cullen told me of how Hal was snatched away. You and Arden must have been going out of your minds with worry.” He sighed. “I imagine Arden is very relieved to have Hal back safe as well. I understand he had only recently regained the last of his memories shortly before Hal was snatched.”

“I was concerned yes, but I also know Eluvians are dangerous. I shouldn’t have had my markings going when I touched it. I’m just glad we got Hal back, something good came of my foolishness.” Fenris pulled on a black tunic and vest, busying himself with the laces as he watched Aeolus in his reflection. 

Aeolus made his way over to the drinks cabinet and poured them both a glass of wine. “I cannot say that I wouldn’t have done the same in your place,” he shrugged.

“I hope to Mythal you have better sense than I brother. Sometimes I’m surprised I have lived as long as I have with the things I’ve done out of anger or stupidity.” Fenris took wine as he sat on the bed. “I take it things are going well for you and Isabela?”

Aeolus smiled. “We’re happy, yes. I would never have thought I would take so well to the sea, but the life suits me. It is a freedom I never thought I would have when our sister yet held me captive.” He took a sip of his wine.

Fenris frowned at the mention of Varania, he’d not thought of her for a long time and the reminder set him on edge. “I do not claim her as such, and I am glad I did not see her while I was on business in Minrathous. I dare say I would have taken her head for the pain she’s caused us. I hope she hasn’t learned of Cal or Pin. She’s the last person I want around them.” 

“The last I heard of her, she was in Vyrantium,” replied Aeolus. “I keep tabs on her from time to time. Always best to know where the serpent lies, after all.”

“I wonder what Zevran would charge me for the Crows to pay her a visit?” Fenris mused.

“There are no more Crows, save him,” replied Aeolus. “Or if any still live, they are lying low. He’s hunted them all out I think. The other assassin guilds in Antiva are all vying to take the place of the Crows, but none have the power or the reach. Zevran has left something of a power vacuum there.” He grinned. “It makes our work easier though. With all the chaos, it’s easier for smugglers to slip in and out.” He winked.

“Hmm, I wonder if the Inquisition is disbanded would I have time for a trip to Vyrantium? Perhaps word will spread of dragons being sighted there again. No one would believe it if she were snatched away by one.” Fenris grinned at Aeolus, a hint of his own deviousness in that smile.

Aeolus laughed. “I think I envy you that gift, brother. Who would not wish to soar as a dragon?”

“It's not come without a lot of pain and annoyances. I still get aggravated at comments on my height, or knowing I need to watch myself even more than usual. At least there is a chance to flee where others may not follow.” Fenris rolled the glass between his palms and sighed. “What will you do next? I can’t imagine you like hanging around here with people who’d treat you like the help rather than a guest.”

Aeolus grimaced. “And a spectacle to boot,” he replied dourly. “They want to touch the tattoos and the lyrium, or they tug at my hair. As if they’d never seen white streaks in someone’s hair before.” He scowled. “Isabela finds ripe pickings here - after all, fat nobles have even fatter purses, and her fingers are as nimble as ever. But had I your gift, I would fly from here in a heartbeat if I could.”

“Maybe we could go for a flight instead? Take Hal with us since he loves it so much. Take the edge off of knowing he’s going back to the Keep rather than stay at Arden’s side?” Fenris was suddenly glad for their chance to talk, and just sit for a while.

Aeolus pondered for a moment as he perched on the arm of the _chaise longue_. “How many do you think you could carry at once then?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, I guess two or three? I’ve really only taken one person with me at a time.” Fenris wondered what his brother was up to. “Why?”

“Perhaps we could take Arden as well? Let he and Hal share this together before they have to say goodbye?” suggested Aeolus. “Hal has lost a lot of weight during his captivity, from what I could see - he was incredibly light when I carried him to teleport you and he as well as Invictus back to Anders and the others. That jump was less exhausting than the one to bring us all to the Eluvian.”

“If Arden isn’t needed today, I guess it would be nice. Can you get something packed for lunch and I’ll let them know where we’ll be. Vic probably will worry otherwise.” Fenris admitted while he undid the vest and looked for a looser tunic.

“Anders will be at the council; he has no need of his double,” replied Aeolus. “I shall see what I can do. I’m sure one of the servants her can direct me to the kitchens.” He downed the rest of his wine as he stood, then nodded to Fenris before heading off to find a servant.

Hal emerged from the small room that led off from the main parlour and glanced around.

Fenris noticed the redhead and called out to Hal so he could tell him of his brother’s idea before they could seek out Arden. The young mage glanced around with a relieved look.

“Fenris! Has everyone else gone off to the council? I think I overslept.” He looked a little ashamed.

“Some have yes, Aeolus will be back soon and I was hoping we could find Arden.” Fenris tugged him over to the bed, glad he was alright. “Aeolus had an idea, if you and Arden are free.”

“I think so,” replied Hal as he sat down on the bed. “Arden was up before me and said he was going to go look for some new clothing for me so I don’t have to keep borrowing this spare robe of his. I think he had the saarebas clothing burned.” He shuddered.

“Good, I should burn the things I was wearing, the pants were ruined anyway.” Fenris slipped his arm around Hal and sighed. “How are you doing, the truth?”

“I’m... not sure,” replied Hal. “I feel... a little like I did when Endrin released me from Tranquility,” he confessed. “After so long as... well, property. A tool. It feels a little strange to have the freedom to choose what to do for myself. I... I keep expecting Hissrad to come for me, to tell me what to do. He promised I’d be free soon, but I had no way of telling the passing of time. Without Cole, I think I would have gone mad. I’m... not entirely sure I didn’t, towards the end.”

“I’m sorry that it happened.” the elf replied. 

“I’ve given up wondering why it happened to me,” sighed Hal as he stared at his hands as they rested in his lap. “I think perhaps if there is a Maker, I must be his plaything. Perhaps Meneris’ Creators are the real truth, and maybe Fen’Harel is using me as a toy.” He shrugged.

Fenris’ grip tightened just a bit before he leaned against Hal. “No, you’re not the toy of any god. It happened because I failed to protect you, I snuck off and left you alone. Blame me if anyone is to be at fault for your capture.” 

“Don’t do this,” whispered Hal. “Don’t take this on yourself. It was Hissrad who took me; he who gave me over to have my eyes and lips sewn shut. Don’t blame yourself for his actions.”

Fenris caught himself before he started sobbing again. “No, I lied to you. I said I’d be right back but I went to confront Invictus. I had to know and if he was still possessed I’d planned to take care of him. Breaking my word to Anders, to you meant I wasn’t there when you needed me. If I’d been there Hal, he wouldn't have taken you.”

“Or maybe he would have hurt or even killed you,” argued Hal, shaking his head. “Stop, please. Blaming yourself changes nothing. We cannot change the past.”

“I apologize, Hal.” Fenris said quietly as he considered that there _was_ a way to change the past, but he wasn’t going to say anything to his young lover about that possibility. “When Arden and my brother return, we have a surprise for you.” 

“A - a surprise?” said Hal, lifting his head and turning to look at Fenris. “What sort of surprise?”

“Something you’ll like I think.” the elf said with a smile. He leaned his head on Hal’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m grateful we were found, and that you are returned to us.”

Hal breathed a small, thankful sigh. “I think if I had had to wait any longer, I would have gone mad,” he confessed. “Hissrad kept saying ‘soon’, and Cole told me to be patient and someone would come - but when you have no way of telling the passing of day or night, ‘soon’ becomes meaningless. That damned collar kept demons away from me but also stopped me dreaming; now all my dreams are vivid and... well.” He sighed again. “No. I’m not going to think about Hissrad, or collars, or anything further about that nightmare,” he said with sudden fierceness.

“If you need to talk, or wish to speak of what happened...Isabela would be understand more than others. I am always here to listen, to do whatever you need of me as you recover.” Fenris tightened his hold just a bit as they sat together.

The main door of the suite opened, and they could hear someone enter and set something down that sounded like a staff being rested against something wooden, before moving around the room. There was a clink of glass and the sound of liquid being poured.

“Arden,” said Hal softly, his head cocked a little to one side. “I’d know the sound of his footsteps anywhere.” He smiled gently.

“Good, let’s ask him if he’s free and I’ll see where my brother is.” Fenris said as he rose and headed out to the suite.

Arden was standing by the drinks cabinet, staring into a glass of wine thoughtfully. He glanced up as Fenris emerged from the bedroom, Hal a step behind, and smiled tiredly at them both.

“I was getting too tired of all the politicking,” he confessed. “Had enough of that when I was Champion of Kirkwall, what with all the petty bickering of the nobles, plus Orsino and Meredith at each other’s throats all the time. Never thought I’d find myself having to play that kind of game again. I don’t envy Anders, to be honest - but at the same time I feel guilty leaving him to it.”

“He’ll be ok for a few hours. Since you’re free, Aeolus and I had an idea on how we could spend the day before Hal and I return to Skyhold.” Fenris asked as he considered a drink but decided against it.

“Oh?” replied Arden with a look of interest.

“Yes, we wanted to go flying, spend time away from all this...frippery.” Fenris gave them a hopeful smile, eager to get out of the palace.

Hal’s eyes had lit up at the mention of flying, and Arden blinked, startled at the sudden change in the red-haired mage’s demeanor.

“Flying?” echoed Arden, nonplussed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh...that’s right you don’t know about my, gift from Mythal.” Fenris said as he shut the door and glanced at Hal. “Shall I show him now or wait until Aeolus returns?”

“Has your brother seen yet?” asked Hal, a faintly mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Not yet, no.Talked about it yes, seen the changes? Not for himself” Fenris gave him a grin in return.

“What are you two planning?” exclaimed Arden, curious now as he glanced between them both. “And something involving your own brother too?”

“Planning? What makes you think we’re planning anything Arden?” Fenris gave him his best puppy eyes as he sat back and waited for Aeolus to return.

“Planning lunch,” interjected Aeolus as he entered, a small hamper in his arms. He looked around with an almost innocent expression. “Wasn’t that right, Fenris?”

Hal sniggered, then pressed both hands over his mouth as Arden gave him a startled look.

“Just so brother, we were having Arden on for a bit. He believed us too, guess I can still pull off a hang dog look when I want to.” Fenris winked at his sibling as he went by.

“Oh?” mused Aeolus as he set the hamper down on the table then turned back to lean against the edge of the table and folded his arms, quirking one eyebrow upwards. “Can I join in the fun?”

“What exactly is going on?” asked Arden, bewildered. “Hal looks like the naughtiest apprentice ever caught with a hand in the cookie jar, Fenris looks like the cat who got the cream, and... well, I never _could_ read Aeolus’ Wicked Grace face even at the best of times.”

“Of course you can join in brother, I daresay we could have a bit of fun after the last week.” Fenris looked as if he were going to burst laughing any moment.

“Apparently Fenris has something to show us that you’ve not seen yet - and Maker, but that sounds rude,” added Arden as he glanced to Fenris. “Whatever it is, it’s evidently something _I’ve_ not seen before either, which rules out - no, wait, I’m not even going to go there,” he decided before hastily downing his wine.

“Well that would be something Aeolus hasn’t seen and doesn’t want. Come, let’s go outside and get some air, then we’ll have some fun.” Fenris paused to write a note for Invictus before getting his weapon.

“Oh, before I forget - Hal, I’ve left your new things on the end of your bed,” remarked Arden. “I managed to find clothing that should fit - though I’m surprised you asked for riding pants; I never knew you were fond of riding?”

Hal coloured slightly, then shrugged. “They’re... more practical than robes sometimes.” He glanced to Fenris. “Give me ten minutes - I want to get changed, and I daresay we can spare a little time?” He smiled, then headed towards the small room he’d been using.

“There’s no hurry, I’ll make sure this gets to Vic. Last thing I want is to set off a panic if he finds me gone.” Fenris slipped out to pass his note along.

“Is there time for another glass of wine?” asked Arden. “Because now I’m wondering if I’m going to end up wanting one, if whatever you lot are planning has Hal giggling like that, and Fenris looking as if he’s going to join in any minute.”

Aeolus snorted, the corner of his lips turning up into the merest ghost of a smile. “I’d hold off just yet if I were you,” he suggested.

Fenris merely grinned as he poured half a glass of wine while they waited on Hal.

The young healer emerged a short while later, dressed in a simple tunic of dark green and one of the pairs of riding pants Arden had found for him. Arden blinked as Hal emerged.

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you in anything that wasn’t a robe, love,” he remarked as he took Hal’s hands and then looked him over.

“You - you don’t approve?” stammered Hal, a worried look in his eyes.

“Oh, on the contrary - I think I like this look,” smiled Arden. “It’s just... different. But no, I like it.”

“They do suit him quite well, very well indeed.” Fenris said as he moved in front of them and winked at Hal. “I think before we go, I should show you something Arden, brother. Take a seat.”

Arden stared at Fenris in bewilderment as Hal led him over to one of the couches set back against the wall on the far side of the parlour, then beckoned to Aeolus who followed them over with a curious look. Hal gestured to him to sit, even as he pushed Arden down to sit upon the couch then took a seat next to him then looked back to Fenris with an expectant look.

At the first flash of Fenris’ brands, Aeolus let out a soft, almost pained hiss and Hal darted him a worried glance as he thought he saw a brief, answering flash of light from the tattooed elf’s own markings; but the elder elf shook his head at Hal as his expression eased slightly.

Beside Hal, Arden had stiffened in his seat then threw a hand up to shade his eyes against the brilliant light. As the light faded and Aeolus let out a long, low whistle, he finally lowered his hand and glanced up -

To come face-to-face with a white dragon.

Whatever the former Champion had been expecting, evidently it hadn’t been that, from the way he suddenly yelled and scrabbled backwards until his back hit the wall and his feet were still trying to push him backwards even as they slipped on the smooth fabric of the couch seat.

“Dragon - dragon, it’s a _fucking dragon_ , Hal, _run!_ ” he yelled as he hastily called up lightning in his hands.

“Arden, no, it’s Fenris! Stop!” cried Hal as Aeolus rose to his feet and turned towards them with a frown.

“Stand _DOWN,_ Blondie!” the tattooed elf finally bellowed, and Arden dropped back down into his seat with a stunned look. 

Fenris tilted his head at Arden, surprised at his reaction. But he hunched down on all fours so Hal could show that he would do no harm. He was pretty sure if he spoke as a dragon the shock might do the blond mage in.

Hal rose to his feet and moved to the dragon’s side, leaning in against its smooth white flank as he looped an arm around the long, sinuous neck. “There’s no reason to fear, Arden,” he said softly.

Arden stared at them both, then dropped his head into his hands for a moment. “A dragon. Fenris is... a dragon.”

“A gift of Mythal,” said Hal, in a tone of reverence that Fenris had never heard in his voice before. “Fenris is Her Chosen.”

Arden lifted his head to stare up at the dragon.

“Don’t look into his eyes!” Hal cautioned. “It’s... his gaze can be... hypnotic, if you’re not used to it.”

“And you are?” guessed Arden as he glanced at Hal, who smiled slightly.

“In a manner of speaking. I was once a dragon too, remember?”

“Not like this. Not....” Arden gestured at Fenris, at a loss for words.

Fenris lowered his head so Arden could approach without fear of being hypnotized. He even closed his eyes as he waited for the other mage to approach him.

“You told me, and I believed you, brother,” said Aeolus, his voice sounding closer to Fenris. “But this... Dumat, seeing with my own eyes is something else again. Favoured of Mythal indeed!”

The dragon managed not to twitch or jerk in surprise when he felt a hand touch his snout, then stroke slowly along his cheek. “Maker,” breathed Arden’s voice beside the dragon’s head. “So warm and - and soft. I would never have thought dragonhide could feel... soft. Armoured everywhere else, and yet here... smooth.”

Fenris almost purred under Arden’s touch, but it was more of a low rumble than anything resembling a cat as the mage continued to stroke him gently.

“Arden,” said Aeolus, an amused tone in his voice. “You’re stroking my brother.”

Fenris’ eyes opened and he glared at his sibling with an annoyed huff. 

Arden froze as he stared at the dragon’s eye, his gaze drawn to it almost against his will as his hand stilled.

The dragon averted his gaze quickly so Arden could snap out of the trance he hadn’t meant to put the blond in. He stepped back and nudged at Hal so he could help the other man.

Arden was blinking, already coming out of his daze as Hal took him by the shoulders and turned him away from Fenris.

“It - I’m alright, I’m... just give me a moment,” murmured Arden as he shook his head to clear it. “Maker. That never happened with any High Dragon we ever fought!”

“High Dragons don’t have much by way of sentient intelligence,” Hal pointed out. “Fenris is... a higher class of dragon entirely. He’s... well, I suppose the opposite to an Archdemon, is as best as I can describe it. There are very few dragons like him; Flemeth is one. I was, briefly, another. The two Merrills were a third, though they perished. I believe there are very few others.”

Hal’s words made Fenris look at the young man in surprise. Well as surprised as a dragon can look. He thought his transformation was more of a boon that Mythal had granted him, not anything like what the mage spoke of.

Hal smiled oddly, though he didn’t look at Fenris as he spoke. “Oh, yes. I know what you are, Fenris. I may be mortal now, but I still remember what it was to fly. And though I may be confined to human form now until the day I die - I still remember what I knew when I was a dragon. And I knew I was not the only one like me.”

The dragon nudged Hal with his snout as he tried to get the red-head to look at him. He shook his head no, disbelieving what had been said.

Hal glanced up at the dragon and smiled sadly. “What, you think Mythal has never granted this to others? She has, though your transformation is perhaps a kinder one than most ever are given. But there are others. More than you might think. After all, there were seven magisters, weren’t there?”

“Hal... Hal, enough. I think perhaps Arden needs that glass of wine now, hmm?” Aeolus tugged the young mage away then gave him a gentle shove towards the drinks cabinet.

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course!” exclaimed Hal. He darted over towards the drinks cabinet.

Fenris sat back on his hind legs, looking more like a curious puppy than a fearsome dragon as he watched Hal pour out a drink for their beleaguered companion. He curled his tail around his feet and simply watched them, content to stay as a dragon a bit longer.

Hal had dropped back onto the couch, and was glancing up at Fenris whilst studiously trying to avoid the dragon’s eye as Hal returned with a large glass of wine. Aeolus walked slowly around the dragon as Arden was distracted by Hal.

“You told me, and I... well, I didn’t disbelieve you, brother, but... well.” Aeolus chuckled quietly as he halted beside the dragon. He folded his arms and leaned against Fenris’ shoulder. “Arden will be fine once he’s gotten over his surprise,” he went on, quietly, aware the dragon’s hearing was sharp enough to catch his voice. “But I don’t think Arden was the only one to be taken by surprise.”

Fenris leaned down and brushed Aeolus’ head with his snout and huffed. Aeolus calmly smoothed his hair with a hand as he glanced up at Fenris and gave him a knowing grin.

“Oh, come on. You may be a dragon, but you are still my brother. Hal told you something you didn’t want to hear.” He rested his hand against Fenris’ shoulder as he stared up at him. “And I think, something you hadn’t known, either.”

Fenris scowled as much as he was able then snorted at his brother’s words. He hated that his older sibling could see through him so easily.

“You might want to cut out the scowling,” shrugged Aeolus. “I’m not fooled by it - but I don’t think it’s doing Arden’s composure much good.” He turned and patted Fenris on the shoulder as he straightened. “Take Hal flying when you and he return to Skyhold. You will have that together, brother.”

Fenris gave his sibling one last dirty look before changing back to his usual elven self. “I hate it when you’re right.” he murmured before getting wine.

“Of course I’m right,” grinned Aeolus as he reached for the wine.

“Once Arden is recovered, let us continue with our original plan? I could do with a bit of fresh air and I know Hal is eager to fly again.” Fenris said as he approached Arden cautiously. The former Champion was cradling the glass of wine in his hands as he sat on the couch, Hal beside him. The redhead had wrapped an arm around Arden’s waist and was resting his head on the blond’s shoulder.

“... just wasn’t expecting that,” Arden was saying quietly. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a dragon suddenly appearing in the room wasn’t it.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you Arden.” Fenris said as he approached and knelt in front of the other man.

Arden glanced up. “I’ve seen many strange things in my time, but until now I honestly thought Flemeth was the only one who could turn into a dragon. And she wouldn’t even teach me the bloody trick!” 

“I don’t know that you’d want to know this trick. The extra growth spurt, fangs and temper problems are not fun things. Once you are up to it, I’m eager to get out of here.” Fenris rose just enough to scoot over and flop in front of Hal’s legs.

Arden was about to reply when the door to the suite suddenly opened and Anders strode swiftly across the room to his bedroom without glancing round, and disappeared, the door swinging almost closed behind him.

“Looks like the talks have ended for lunch,” observed Arden quietly before sipping his wine. A moment later, the door to the suite was pushed open again and Zevran hurried in; Arden wordlessly pointed to the closed bedroom door, and the Antivan nodded as he headed after Anders.

Fenris got to his feet and headed for the door as well, concerned for his spouses. “What happened?”

Zevran glanced round; Anders was sprawled face-down on the bed, his arms folded around his head. The Antivan sighed.

“The talks... are not going well,” he shrugged. “Meneris requested a break for lunch in the hopes that heads would be clearer after food.”

“Do you...should I come in with you?” Fenris asked quietly.

Anders uncurled one arm from around his head and peered back at Fenris. “That depends. Am I allowed to fireball Teagan if you do?”

“I could turn to a dragon and eat him if you want love.” Fenris offered.

“No, you will not, and no, he is not allowed,” Zevran told Fenris firmly. Anders buried his head in his arms, his scream of frustration thankfully muffled by the thick down-filled comforter.

“Teagan is probably too stringy anyway and would make me throw up. Why don’t you take care of him and I’m going to carry on with my plan then.” Fenris looked to his elven husband, unsure what he could do.

Zevran nodded, and moved over towards the bed where Anders had fallen silent. As Fenris headed back into the main room, he heard Zevran gently calling Anders’ name with patience.

“We won’t be far off if you decide you need me.” Fenris pulled the ring he used to commune with his brother off and threw it to Zevran, who caught it one-handed. “In case.”

Zevran gave him a harried look but nodded as he returned to trying to coax Anders to calm down.

Arden, Hal and Aeolus glanced up as he returned. “That didn’t look or sound too promising,” remarked Aeolus. “Did the Orlesians declare war? Or the Fereldens?”

“Not yet, but apparently they have worked Anders’ nerves. Zevran is working to calm him. I slipped him my ring to contact us in case I am needed. There’s no point in sitting around here waiting, and Anders probably won’t want an audience if he...loses his temper.” Fenris added.

Hal blinked, then glanced back towards the bedroom door which had closed behind Fenris. He shivered slightly, and absently rubbed at his wrists. 

Fenris slipped an arm around Hal and nodded to Aeolus. “Shall we go then? Or are you going to stay here?”

“I’ll not miss a chance to feel what it is to fly,” declared Aeolus.

“Bring our lunch then if you would, Arden are you coming as well?” Fenris asked.

Arden glanced up at Hal. “Do you want me to come, love?” he asked quietly. “I’ll come if you want me to.”

Hal stared down at him then reached out to cup Arden’s cheek gently with one hand. “Please?” he asked. Arden turned his head slightly to kiss Hal’s palm, then nodded as he got to his feet.

“Alright,” he said as he turned to Fenris. “Screaming myself hoarse an optional extra?” He grinned ruefully.

“If you wish, I won’t stop you. Someone get rope so you have something to hold on to and bring something warm to wear, it can get cold the higher we go.” Fenris headed for the door, eager to be out in the sun and away from the confines of their suite.

Behind him, he heard Arden speaking to Hal. “Ah, now the reason for the request for pants becomes clear! _This_ is what you meant by riding!”

“Well, yes,” Fenris heard Hal replying. “You _know_ I’m afraid of horses.”

Fenris blinked, then filed that little unexpected bit of news away to ponder later.

***

It was a decidedly more cheerful group that trooped back into the suite of rooms allotted the Grand Enchanter and his entourage several hours later. Aeolus was still enthusiastically gesticulating as he chatted animatedly with his brother, and Hal looked tired but positively radiant as they returned. Arden was quiet, content to let Aeolus be the talkative one as the two elves laughed and joked together.

Anders glanced around as they entered. “Had a good time then?” he asked with a small smile.

Fenris gave him a shy grin and nodded, still surprised at how much Aeolus had enjoyed their flight. “Yes, and I think someone might be hooked on flying now.”

“Ah, but sadly I lack my brother’s gift,” sighed Aeolus.

“Well it’s not like you can’t just pop in and visit for a bit; and that a visit can’t include a flight or two.” Fenris offered. “I could use some more time with my older brother.”

Arden guided Hal over to a couch then made his way over to the drinks cabinet. Anders glanced over at him. “And what about you, Arden - how does flying suit you?”

“I can see why Hal loves it,” mused Arden. “I must admit I think I prefer to have my feet back on solid ground again. A little high up for my tastes.” He poured a generous shot of brandy into a glass, his hand only trembling slightly.

Fenris frowned slightly, worried he’d frightened his friend. “Arden, are you alright? I didn’t mean to scare you, I apologize if I did.”

“Not... scare, precisely. I’m just... not particularly fond of heights,” Arden shrugged. “It’s just one of those things. And at least I didn’t make too much of an idiot of myself.”

Anders glanced at Hal and arched an eyebrow. Hal shrugged and mouthed “screamed” back at him, and Anders darted a sympathetic look at the other blond mage. Arden’s attention was on his glass of brandy however, and he missed the look.

“I’m sorry; I’d hoped you would like it. I’ll remember not to do that too much.” Fenris flinched at the smack to the back of his head. “What?” he asked Aeolus in confusion. Aeolus sighed.

“I think Arden would probably prefer it if you didn’t roll like that at all,” Hal supplied.

“Ah,” said Anders with a look of understanding. “He did a barrel roll whilst you were up there? Well, can’t have been as bad as my reaction when he did it to me.”

“Is that why you never go flying?” asked Hal.

“What did you do?” asked Arden, curious in spite of himself.

“I threw up,” shrugged Anders. “Not one of my finer moments, I’ll admit.” He raised a finger as Fenris opened his mouth to protest. “Yes, love, I know you apologised for it afterwards - but still, I think it’s probably just better all round if I stay on the ground.”

“It is I who takes Ellowynne up for flights now,” explained Zevran with a shrug. “One of us must, after all.”

Fenris nodded and headed for the sideboard for a drink. He still felt bad about making Anders sick the last time they’d flown though it had been a while back. He curled up on the chaise longue, drink in hand and gaze to the fireplace.

“I also get horrendously seasick as well,” shrugged Anders. “So don’t feel ashamed if you prefer to keep your feet on solid ground, Arden - you’re not the only one. Last but one sea voyage we went on together, I was thankfully too out of it to even notice, and the time before that, I spent most of the journey practically drugged to the eyeballs most of the time.”

“What happened the last time?” asked Arden, curious, his own discomfort over the flight forgotten.

“The ship sank,” supplied Zevran.

“Can we not discuss that please?” Fenris asked quietly as he folded his legs under himself and tried to stop the memories of that voyage.

Arden stared at Anders for a moment, then handed him his glass of brandy. “You seem to have the most appalling bad luck, Anders,” he remarked. “I thought our Anders seemed to have it pretty bad.”

Anders took the glass with an air of bemusement. “I’m almost used to it,” he shrugged.

“What is your Anders doing while you’re here Arden? I know he’s taken to Callus a bit, but I worry for them,” Fenris said as he sipped his whiskey and stared at the embers of a fire left unattended.

“He does seem quite taken with Callus,” agreed Arden. “He apparently also spends quite a fair amount of time with Ellowynne - when I hopped back there briefly, she’d braided his hair and she and Marian were debating the merits of daisies as hair ornaments. Parcival and Becky are keeping an eye on him for me until I return.”

“I’ll check on him when I return, if you don’t think it will upset him too much,” Fenris replied, forgetting he hadn’t yet told Anders of his plan to go back to Skyhold for a few days.

“What do you mean - when you return?” said Anders slowly, pushing himself to his feet as he stared at Fenris. 

“Yes, what did you mean by that love? I thought you were determined to stay here?” Invictus chimed in from where he’d sprawled out near Anders.

The elven warrior cursed himself before he faced them. “I...I decided I need to go back for a few days. Dorian and I are under scrutiny because we’re of Tevinter, it was already wearing on my nerves before I was stupid and fell into the Eluvian. I just need a couple of days, to get my head right and not endanger the talks or …” Fenris fell quiet when he saw the way Invictus looked at him.

“You don’t want to leave Hal alone after getting him back either. He’s not going to be snatched from under you again love, stop beating yourself up,” Vic said as he approached.

Zevran laid a hand on Anders’ arm as the blond enchanter made to follow. “Fenris was injured, quite seriously I believe, yes?” inquired the Antivan, cocking his head to one side as Anders glanced down at him.

“Yes, he was,” he nodded slowly. He let Zevran gently yet firmly push him back down into his seat.

“And such an injury needs time and rest to recover from, even after healing, no?” Zevran went on.

Anders stared up at the elf, then over at Fenris, then nodded slowly. “Yes, he - yes, you’re right. Fenris and Hal... it makes sense for you both to go back to Skyhold - at least for a few days’ rest. Maker knows, you’d get little enough of that here.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly as he conceded the point. 

Invictus sat next to Fenris, taking his drink away gently and tugging him to his arms. “What’s the matter? You were so happy when you all came back but now you’re mood is pretty low. Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”

The elven warrior nodded and rose for Invictus to lead them to a private spot. He didn’t look up at the others as he passed, hand tight in his husband’s as they left for the other bedroom.

***

Fenris sat on the bed, fingers going to his wedding rings as he struggled for words. He finally looked up at the feel of a wine glass against his hand.

“You look like you need it love,” Vic said as he sat next to his husband, taking the elf’s free hand in his.

Fenris took a long sip as he held his husband’s hand, glad for the warmth of Invictus’ touch. “I’m afraid Vic. Afraid of letting Hal out of my sight as you said, but also afraid of what will happen if the Fereldens get their way and the Inquisition is disbanded as Meneris hinted at. 

He’s tired of it, I can tell every time I see him. The little sighs, the shifting as he listens to them go on and on about the imaginary evil the Inquisition may do if allowed to remain in power. I’ve grown a lot over the years but I know I have little in the way of skills outside of my sword and my dragon trick.”

Invictus slipped his arm around his husband and pulled him into his lap. “Fenris, you are one of the smartest men I know. This doesn’t sound like you at all, what’s the problem love?” 

The elf shrugged and contemplated his drink for a bit before continuing. “It’s not just me I have to worry about Invictus. There’s you, Anders, Zevran and the children. Well they aren’t little kids but I am loathe to give them up to the world so soon after learning of them and getting Pin to open to me. 

I am intelligent, some of my ability to learn was beaten into me. Fear of what would be done if I didn’t perform as expected and above forced me to learn as a mimic rather than by pen and parchment. I just feel a fraud sometimes, like I’ve sometimes tricked people into thinking I am more than I am Vic. I’m scared of what will happen with this Council, and I just want a decision one way or another so we can move on.”

Vic hugged him closer and kissed the back of his neck. “I think we’re all a bit scared love. I know you don’t want to go to Cumberland, not like Anders was speaking of. I don’t want to uproot our life either. You can have a place still love and we hold you in regard because you are brilliant, you’re one of the best fighters I know and you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. Why don’t we spend a quiet night together, before you head back to Skyhold tomorrow morning. Or we get Anders and Zevran in here so we can be together?”

“Sure, though I am unsure I will be good company. Thinking back on that terrible voyage, being separated for so long, and the terror when I saw Cole about to end Anders has put me in a black mood.” Fenris set his drink aside and curled up in Vic’s embrace as they used to do in Kirkwall when things were simpler.

“It can be just us if you like. I could hold you like this...like old times.” Invictus said as he shifted to let Fenris get settled. He nuzzled against the elf, quietly so they could just enjoy a moment.

“I’d like that Vic, maybe we can enjoy each other and nap till dinner?” Fenris offered with kiss the his husband’s jaw.

“Anything you want my heart, anything. You want slow and easy, or rough and quick?” Vic asked.

“Not rough, not when I can close my eyes and still feel that fucking collar around my neck. Slow and gentle, please?” Fenris rolled over to his back and tugged at Invictus to join him.

“Let me lock the door and I’ll take care of you love.” Vic slipped away just to lock the door and cast Silence to keep this moment all for them.

***

“I wonder when he was planning to tell us?” Anders mused quietly. He lay on his back upon the large Orlesian bed and stared up at the canopy above.

“Soon, I am certain of it,” replied Zevran as he sprawled upon his stomach, his chin propped upon his hands and his eyes upon the mage. “After all, as you said yourself, it makes sense, no? And he will not be gone so very long.”

Anders sighed. “I wonder what they’re talking about?”

“You have told me before that they had been together long before you or I entered their lives as lovers,” shrugged Zevran. “Perhaps this is a thing they must talk about together with their first love, no?”

“I suppose,” replied Anders quietly. 

Something in his tone made Zevran sit up and lean over the mage. “You are unhappy,” the Antivan observed. 

“No - well, alright, yes, I am,” he conceded as Zevran arched an eyebrow at him wordlessly. “But it’s not what you think. I’m not jealous, Zevran. You know I’m not like that.”

“No, you never were, though circumstances differ now, it is true.”

“What do you mean?” asked Anders as he frowned up at Zevran. The Antivan shrugged.

“You were not a jealous man in the Wardens, but you are not the same man you were then. You were not married, yes?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” argued Anders as he made to sit up; Zevran pushed him back down again. He blinked up at the elf.

“I think perhaps you are hurt that Fenris did not tell you of his plans - and you feel more hurt that he shares himself with Invictus now but not also with you. You feel left out,” said Zevran quietly.

Anders stared up at Zevran, denial upon the tip of his tongue; but something in the elf’s expression checked him. “I... suppose I am,” he realised.

“Fenris loves you - never doubt that,” said Zevran gently. “But there are some things he can only share with someone who has known him the longest. Of us all, only Invictus has known him since he first set foot in Kirkwall. Perhaps he feels safest opening up his heart to him first. To whom do you open your heart first, my love?”

Anders pondered the question. “It depends on who I see first out of all of you.”

Zevran arched his eyebrow again.

“No, truly, it does!” protested Anders.

“And if it were something that troubled you from your time before Invictus and Fenris? Say... when you were a Warden?” suggested Zevran with a knowing look. “Or something that had only happened between you and I, when neither Invictus nor Fenris were with us? Our journey to Ferelden and Ostwick, perhaps?”

“... you,” Anders finally admitted in a small voice. Zevran smiled sadly.

“You see, my love? He does not reject us. Likely it is something he can only speak to Invictus of. Trust his reasons, my heart, as he would yours or mine.” He leaned down and kissed Anders gently, then leaned closer so that his lips lightly brushed Anders’ ear. “Now... tell me what troubles your heart truly, _mi amore_.”

Anders bit his lip, then lifted his arms to wrap them around Zevran as he rolled them both over onto their sides, then buried his face in Zevran’s hair.

“Ah, my love,” sighed Zevran, and held him close.

***  
Fenris opened his eyes to find Invictus was awake and staring at the ceiling and deep in thought. “Love?”

“Hmm?” Vic asked as he rolled over to kiss Fenris.

“You were off wool gathering, what’s on your mind?” asked the elf as he sat up.

“What we spoke of, I’m also worried for Zevran. He’s been pushing himself so hard lately, I fear he’s overcompensating to show he’s still got something left to give,” Vic replied as he sat up and looked for his clothes.

“He probably is, but if we coddle him he will resent us for it I think. Much as I do, Vic. Remember when that fear demon nearly killed me, and you tried to keep me abed?” Fenris said as he went to their wardrobe.

“Don’t remind me of how foolish _that_ idea was. I could feel you glaring at me even as I tried to hide from you and Anders.” Vic snagged his pants and after some picking through the tangle of clothes on the floor found his tunic.

“It’s in the past, and frankly if I had sense I would have listened to you then. You know I can be a hard-headed foo,l my heart.” Fenris helped lace up the front of his tunic before finishing up. A knock at the door interrupted Invictus trying to get in another kiss.

“Who is it?” Fenris called out, irritated at the interruption.

“It’s Arden,” called the blond mage, his voice a little muffled by the door. “Dorian and the Inquisitor are here. Anders and Zevran haven’t come out from the other room yet and I’m not sure if they heard me knocking.”

“I shouldn’t have answered,” Fenris mumbled.

“We’ll have more time after dinner love, come on and let’s see what’s going on.” Vic laughed as he opened the door to find Arden about to knock again. The blond mage stepped back hastily.

“Sorry - I didn’t want to just barge in on either you two or the others, and seeing as Anders and Zevran didn’t answer....” Arden shrugged apologetically.

“Perhaps they don’t want to be disturbed?” Fenris said as he went past and took up his spot at on the couch.

“Is there a silence spell on the door? We’re mages, perhaps check for that as a reason for them not to hear you?” Vic offered.

“I think I’d recognise a silence spell,” replied Arden drily as he arched an eyebrow at Invictus. “Just as I wouldn’t have bothered knocking on _your_ door if your silence spell hadn’t worn off over an hour ago.”

“Just making an observation. Fine, I’ll knock and see what they are up to.” Vic leaned against the door to listen, hoping they weren’t just being quiet and he wasn’t going to get in the way. 

He thought at first that perhaps the two men may have fallen asleep, it was so quiet - and then he heard a very quiet sigh, and then a sharply-indrawn breath followed by a muffled sob.

“Ah, my heart. Easy. I am here; you are safe.” Zevran’s voice, low and quiet.

Vic frowned as he knocked again, calling out to them. “Anders? Zevran... Are you alright?” 

There was silence for a moment, and then he heard footsteps crossing the room before the key rattled in the lock and the door opened. Zevran glanced up at him.

“I am fine; Anders... not so fine,” he confided quietly. “Though I am not sure how well he can perhaps put into words why.”

“What’s wrong? I heard a sob before you answered, did something else happen today?” Invictus asked as he entered, and went straight to his husband.

“Love? What’s wrong?” Vic asked.

Anders was curled up on the side of the bed, but at the sound of Invictus’ voice he had sat up; he glanced around, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand hastily. “It - I - the talks, this - this _thing_ , Teagan -” he began stammering.

Vic took Anders’ free hand in his and tried to give him a smile. “Is it all getting to you love? Do you need a break?”

Anders glanced down at their hands, then laced their fingers together and nodded wordlessly, not lifting his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Vic turned to their other elven spouse. “Tell the Inquisitor whatever he wants can wait, we’ll speak to him after we’ve had dinner - which we’re taking in here just the four of us.” 

Anders’ head jerked up and his eyes widened. “Meneris is _here_?” he whispered. “Oh Maker. Kill me now.” He groaned and closed his eyes.

Zevran glanced from Anders to Invictus, then shook his head slightly before he stepped out into the parlour where Meneris and Dorian were waiting with Arden. 

The elf looked concerned as Zevran approached, and with a sinking heart wondered what could have happened since he last saw them. “Has something else happened?”

Zevran ran a hand slowly through his hair, then set his other hand on his hip as he shrugged. “It has been a trying day all round, no?” he began. “These talks, I do not think any of us are at our best.”

“No; none of us are, I think. I was just stopping by to see if anyone wanted to relax over dinner. But after hearing Invictus I can take my leave if you like. Dorian, if you want to stay I can see you later, amatus,” Meneris said.

Fenris looked at them, then into the room where Invictus and Anders were huddled together. “Perhaps it is best if you leave us be for the evening.”

Zevran glanced to Arden. “Perhaps you and Hal might like to join the Inquisitor and the others, Arden?” he suggested.

“I can take a hint, Zevran,” nodded Arden. “Alright, we’ll leave you four in peace. Whatever it is... well. You’ll fix it best between yourselves without others listening in.”

“Thank you for being understanding,” replied Zevran with an apologetic shrug.

“That’s our cue to go, come on then I’ll get them to send some good wine along - I think we all could use it,” Meneris said as he hurried everyone out ahead of himself. 

Zevran waited until they’d all gone, then exhaled a quiet sigh before turning to Fenris. “I do not know how long we can keep him stable, _carissimi_ ,” he confided quietly, his voice so low only the other elf could have heard. “He took it very hard when you disappeared, and I think perhaps he is not far off reaching... a melt-down point, I think.”

Fenris swallowed down the apology that instantly sprang to his lips; he’d said sorry so often the past few days the word was ceasing to have meaning, he feared. “This isn’t just about me, is it?” he managed gruffly.

Zevran’s eyes widened as he realised how his words could have been taken; he crossed to the other elf hastily and reached for Fenris’ hands. “No, no _carissimi_ \- forgive my unthinking tongue! No, this is about far more indeed,” he murmured fervently. “He is... there is a fragileness of mood upon him these days. I do not know how to explain it better than that. But I think he is reaching the limit of what he is able to handle, and I fear for what may happen when he does reach that limit. This is not like Kirkwall; there is no blood magic compelling him; and yet - it feels like the calm before a storm, though even that does not describe it fully, unless the storm be one inside him.”

Fenris frowned. “Zevran, you’re not making much sense,” he said slowly.

“Forgive me, _carissimi_ ,” replied the Antivan. “I am out of my depth here. As are we all - and that, I think, is much of the problem for Anders.”

“As am I, my heart,” Fenris admitted.

“If only we could send Anders back with you and Hal,” sighed Zevran. “I am afraid that the Inquisitor will grow tired of us four - if he has not already. Teagan presses more and more for the Inquisition to be disbanded, and he sways more of the nobles - including many who were sworn allies of the Inquisition - to his side. I believe Meneris is perhaps a hair’s breadth away from acceding to their demands and doing away with the Inquisition altogether. Leliana has asked Anders to help stall for time until this matter of qunari in the palace is resolved, and there is a delegation here from Cumberland that has been pressing him hard for an answer. It is too much and something will give. I do not want that something to be his sanity, _carissimi_.”

He stared up into Fenris’ eyes. “I do not want _your_ sanity to be that something either,” he added very quietly.

Fenris glanced away from his Antivan husband, unwilling to discuss that problem with Anders so near his own meltdown.

Zevran could only stare up at Fenris and swallow down his own worries as the other elf refused to meet his glance; he gave up trying and settled for tugging Fenris towards the bedroom where Invictus waited with Anders.

The blond mage lay upon his side with his head in Invictus’ lap, his eyes closed as the other mage stroked his fingers through his loose hair and spoke to him quietly; Anders looked almost as though he were sleeping, save for the way he opened his eyes briefly to glance at them as they entered before closing them again.

“I can’t,” he said clearly. “Arden can only do so much. This... unless we have Arden declared Grand Enchanter for real, then I have to do this. There’s no way out.”

“Then declare him Grand Enchanter, tell Meneris you need this for your own well being. He can’t force you to continue at the risk of your health,” Fenris said. 

“He needs me as Grand Enchanter,” replied Anders dully. “As does Leliana. Arden isn’t even from this world; we have no way of knowing just where his Thedas and ours might differ in some crucial way that would blow everything up in our faces. I’ll see this through until the Inquisition is disbanded. It’s only a matter of time. After that....” He sighed. “I don’t know. I just know I can’t do this for much longer. Something’s going to give.”

Zevran darted a sharp glance at Fenris.

The warrior circled to the other side and stretched out close to his husband. “Love, what can we do to help? Do you need me to be at your side? Do you need something else? Whatever I can give you, it’s yours my heart.” Fenris reached over and let his hand rest on top of the blond’s. 

Anders opened his eyes and gave Fenris a lopsided smile. “Afraid I’m going to fall apart in the middle of the council chamber, love?” he asked. “No, I can hold it together better than that. As long as nothing else goes wrong, then I’ll get through this. After, though....” He closed his eyes. “Can’t guarantee I won’t just fall over and sleep for a year. I’m so tired of all of this. If I’d known....” He fell silent.

“Not worried you’d go to pieces in public, but I am fearful you’ll shatter as soon as you are away from prying eyes. Please talk to me, I will listen, I won’t be ..I am yours, and whatever you need love you’ll have it,” Fenris promised as he reached slotted his fingers between his husband.

“Anders, if you want to tell them fuck off and we all ride off for Antiva or Nevarra or Rivain we’ll do it at sun up. I’ve no love for Teagan or Ferelden after the last few days. Ungrateful bastards can twist in the Void,” Invictus said.

Anders closed his eyes. “I can’t,” he said simply, with a helpless shrug. “Too many lives depend on my being the Grand Enchanter right now. I need to finish setting up the College, for a start. Too many died to put me where I am now. To give up would make a mockery of their deaths. I won’t see any more children ripped out of their mother’s arms because of something a bunch of magisters did a few thousand years ago. I will not allow any other mage to be put through what Hal suffered. I will see this through.” His tone had sharpened, his voice rising as he spoke; he fell silent and Fenris could feel how he was forcing himself to calm down. “I’ll see it through,” he repeated, quieter.

“There is no shame in admitting you would like our help to see it done my love,” Fenris said as he scooted closer to Anders. 

“We’re here with you love, no matter how bad it gets we’ll be here,” Invictus added.

Anders’ fingers tightened slightly upon Fenris’ hand. “I know,” he said as he opened his eyes. “I just... I need to do this for Ellowynne. For the others. So there’ll be something after I’m gone - something better to leave to her and all the others like her. So there’ll be more for her than people cursing my name as a butcher and murderer. I won’t live to see any grandchildren I might one day have, but at least I can make sure they won’t have an ancestor to be ashamed of. They can have a future worth living. I have to do it now whilst I still have time.”

Invictus sucked in his breath but caught himself before he could start in on Anders’ words. He simply continued to massage his mage husband’s scalp while he fought the urge to beg him not to speak of such things.

Fenris moved until he was holding Anders in his arms, silent tears falling as he considered his husband’s words. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love,” Anders murmured softly as he reached up to wipe at Fenris’ tears with his fingers. “I’m not in my grave yet.” He tried to smile. “Don’t give up on me just yet.”

“Not giving up, just...sorry, I keep saying it but I am sorry. I just want you to be well, not coddling me. Let me hold you for a while longer please?” Fenris sniffed as he pulled Anders closer and closed his eyes.

“I’ll get dinner sent to us, Zevran maybe take over?” Invictus asked as he pulled himself free and stretched. 

Zevran silently slid in to take Invictus’ place, a curiously blank look on his face as he sat with Fenris and Anders. 

The Tevinter elf reached up for Zevran, his eyes closing again once he had a hand on the other elf. He was quiet as they laid there, irritated with himself and worried for Anders’ well being.

“I’m sorry,” said Anders miserably. “I didn’t mean to do this. Not to all of you. Maker, I just -” He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t eat enough. I was overtired and it was a hard session in council and... it got away from me.”

“Perhaps it should have gotten away from you sooner then,” said Zevran, his face still blank as he stared down at the blond enchanter. “Perhaps then we would have seen this sooner. Had I not been so preoccupied -”

“No,” said Anders firmly. “We’re not going to start the blame game again. Stop that.”

Zevran made a sudden noise of irritation then glanced away, the brief look of annoyance that had crossed his face gone as fast as it had come.

“Please don’t, _carissimi_. Let us rest until dinner comes?” Fenris asked softly though his grip tightened on the other elf.

Zevran turned his head to look at Fenris, a small frown creasing his brow, but he said nothing.

“I should eat,” Anders agreed. “Maybe I’ll feel more myself when it doesn’t feel as though my stomach is trying to gnaw its way out of me.”

“Until then, perhaps you’d lie with us as well Zevran?” Fenris glanced at the other elf, curious as to what he’d do. 

Zevran gave an odd little half-shrug, then stretched out alongside them both so that Anders lay between the two elves. He lay on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he glanced over at Invictus.

Hawke paced as he awaited a servant’s return with their meal. He was antsy, and worried that Ander’s Calling was upon him far too soon. When he returned, Anders was dozing; it was only when Fenris leaned over and gently shook him that he started awake, blinking in disorientation. He glanced around, and for a moment it seemed he wasn’t fully aware of their presence.

“Dinner’s here, come on.” The elf got up reluctantly, and headed to the basin so he could wash his face before he tried to sit and enjoy a quiet night with his men.

Vic said nothing but he watched them both carefully, more concerned for Anders at the moment. 

Anders rose and moved as though he were almost sleepwalking as he followed Fenris and Zevran into the parlour then sat down at the table, his eyes still glazed with sleep; but as he began to eat, he seemed to slowly come awake again until Invictus could almost convince himself nothing was wrong.

Fenris ate quickly, not really wondering what they’d brought as long as it wasn’t fish. He sat back with a full glass of wine and a lot of thoughts running through his head. 

Zevran ate and drank as though nothing were the matter, rising from the table to fetch more wine when the first bottle ran out. Anders blinked as the Antivan topped off his glass without asking, then shrugged. He nodded his thanks as he took it and sipped.

Fenris said nothing aside from quiet thanks when Zevran topped up his glass before sitting down once more. 

Invictus abstained from more drink, he had a feeling that he’d need a clear head for the evening.

“Are you alright, Zevran?” asked Anders.

“Me, I am fine,” shrugged Zevran. “Why should I not be? This is good food and an excellent wine, though it would be improved by being served in Skyhold instead of Orlais, no?”

“I could teleport us home for the night,” Fenris offered before he took another sip of his drink.

Zevran paused, his glass halfway to his mouth, and stared at Anders who sat across from him. There was a look of wistful longing on the mage’s face; Zevran lowered his glass, the wine untouched. 

“I would be tired but we could sleep in our own beds, not here where I feel as if every move is watched,” Fenris carried on.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” said Zevran, switching to Antivan and speaking swiftly yet low. “ _Look at his face. Do you think that if you take him back to Skyhold - even for just one night - he will ever wish to come back here again?_ ”

Fenris finally noticed the look on Anders’ face and fell silent. “ _I thought it would help, apologies._ ” He refilled his wine and went to the _chaise longue_ so he wouldn’t give his husband any more bad ideas. 

Invictus topped up Anders’ drink and took up Fenris’ spot so he could keep an eye on the blond.

Anders watched Fenris move to the _chaise_ with a confused look that slowly gave way to one of resignation. “Perhaps you could take a letter to Ellowynne from me when you and Hal go back,” he shrugged, reaching for his own wine.

“Of course, I just needed to stretch out before my leg stiffens again. I’ve not moved around much after returning from our flight.” Fenris sipped his wine and sat back.

“Love you will be done soon, and then we can figure out what to do. Would you like a back rub before we go back to the bedroom? More wine?” Vic offered.

“There is brandy too, I believe,” remarked Zevran.

“Antivan?” Anders said with a half-hearted smile.

“It may be - I did not look closely,” shrugged the elf as he rose then went to look.

Fenris sat up at the mention of brandy, giving Invictus a curious look. “I may have a bit of that as a nightcap once I’m done with the wine.” 

“Sure thing love, I’ll pour you some when you’re ready,” Vic said as he took another small sip of his drink. 

“Pfeh, it is Nevarran, not Antivan,” Zevran remarked with a frown as he straightened, a round bottle in his hand. “But still, that is better than the piss these Orlesians like to fancifully call brandy.”

“I’ll still drink it,” Fenris said as he rose to get some of the brandy from Zevran and wobbled just a bit.

“I’ve not finished my wine yet,” shrugged Anders. “But maybe after.”

“I just finished my wine and would like some brandy please,” Fenris asked as he returned to the table, taking up a seat opposite Anders. 

Zevran returned to the table and looked down at Fenris who was now occupying his seat, then glanced at Invictus, who was occupying the seat Fenris had taken earlier. He sighed then set a glass of brandy in front of Anders, another in front of Fenris, then took the remaining seat and put his feet up on the table as he tilted the chair back, taking a pull directly from the bottle.

Fenris squinted at his glass, then at Zevran before he leaned over the Antivan. “Don’t be greedy.”

Zevran merely arched an eyebrow at him before taking another long pull from the bottle, smirking at Fenris around the mouth of the bottle.

“You’re hogging the brandy...and being lewd,” Fenris said as he set his emptied glass in front of the other elf.

“Love, that’s not lewd. Lewd is what he did on our wedding night,” Vic said with a grin as he sat back to watch.

Zevran lowered the bottle and grinned. “Would you like a repeat performance, _mi amore_?” he offered before he refilled Fenris’ glass then nudged it towards the other elf.

“Oh I would but I don’t know if these two can keep up with us,” Invictus leered at the other two men while sliding his wine glass over for a large cup of water.

Anders was watching them with a bemused expression as he slowly sipped his wine, the brandy in front of him still untouched.

Fenris grinned as he took his refill and knocked back some of it. “You really think I can’t keep up with you? Shall I remind you of when I nailed you so hard you slept for six hours?” 

“Is that how it’s going to be tonight love? Do we need to let you and Zev have the bed for a while?” Vic asked while he took Anders’ glass for a sip of wine and handed it back. 

“I meant you Vic...the way you screamed for me until I gagged you was memorable.” Fenris winked at the former Champion before he stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around his mage.

“Maybe it’s Zevran and I who should leave you two in peace?” mused Anders, his glass of wine forgotten.

“Oh no you don’t...I’m not going anywhere yet.” Vic said as he turned to find his other elven spouse meant to keep him there.

“What’s the matter Anders, not in the mood to watch?” Fenris purred in Vic’s ear.

Anders dropped his gaze. “Just... you look as though you two want to have some fun together, and I don’t want to be in the way,” he shrugged, toying with the stem of his wine glass.

“You wouldn’t be in the way love, you know I like an audience sometimes.” Fenris winked at the others before nipping at Invictus’ ear

“Ow, you have sharp teeth, remember?” Vic flinched away from the sharp tug at his earlobe.

“I... sorry, I’m just... not in the mood,” Anders shrugged. “Tired, I guess. But don’t let me stop you if you two want to go and have fun.”

Fenris frowned at Vic pulling away from him. “I...never mind then.” he said quietly with a caress to the back of Invictus’ head before he sat down with his drink.

Anders sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil your mood, love,” he apologised as he reached for his wine glass as though belatedly recalling its presence.

“It’s fine, Vic’s not in the mood for rough play anyway. I’m going to have more brandy, maybe take a walk. I will not go near that eluvian.” Fenris added as he sat back.

Vic glanced to Zevran then to Fenris, unsure what to do with his sulking. He was trying to get Anders drunk enough to sleep without dreaming but a surly elf wasn’t part of the plan.

Zevran reached over for the wine glass and plucked it from Anders’ fingers; as Anders opened his mouth to protest, Zevran handed him the untouched glass of brandy.

“Zevran, I hadn’t finished that!” exclaimed Anders as he stared at the brandy.

“Ach, the wine is mediocre,” shrugged Zevran. “The brandy may not be as good as Antivan, but it is still better than the wine, and you will sleep better for it, yes?”

“I should have brought the Starkhaven single malt with me. This will do however.” Fenris finished his drink and considered taking the bottle from the other elf.

“I thought you did bring it love? Would you like me to see if they can get some for you?” Invictus asked.

“There may be some in our bags in the other room,” shrugged Zevran. “I shall go look. I should go open the windows in there in any case; the room was very stuffy earlier.” He rose to his feet and headed back into the room he’d been sharing with Anders.

“Why don’t you take him with you and I’m going to go lie down early. You two could use some time together and maybe I can get Fenris relaxed enough for bed?” Invictus said with a look at the Antivan.

“I’m not tired, and I’ll go to bed when I’m ready Vic.” Fenris said with a glare.

“You are being sharp again love, don’t take whatever your problem is out on us.” Vic said as he sipped his water and met Fenris’ glare.

There was a muffled exclamation from the bedroom, and then they heard Zevran give a chuckle. “And a good evening to you too!” he said; there was a whirring of wings, and then a white crow swooped into the room. It circled above their heads then landed upon the table, skidding slightly on top of the polished surface. Anders stared at it in perplexion as it hopped awkwardly towards him then up onto his wrist.

“Zevran, I didn’t know you had any white crows?” he called.

“I don’t,” replied the Antivan as he walked back into the room and set a half-full bottle of Starkhaven whisky on the table in front of Invictus. “He likely bears a message for me - he seems to be unafraid of you, my heart; check for a scroll for me, yes?”

Anders peered at the crow’s leg. “It’s not ringed,” he replied slowly.

“Oh?” answered Zevran, then chuckled. “Cheeky thing! Evidently someone here must have been feeding it then and it is looking for food.” He shrugged. “It is likely the only reason it has survived to grow to such a magnificent size - white crows are very rare in the wild, Leliana told me.”

 

“Are you sure it isn’t one of hers?” asked Invictus as he smiled at the way the bird was now sidling up Anders’ arm towards his shoulder. “It seems very tame.”

“No; all of the Divine’s birds have gold-coloured bands upon their right legs,” shrugged Zevran as he poured whisky for Invictus and Fenris. “They are ringed on the fourteenth day after hatching, just as our Skyhold birds are. But perhaps one or two have sired clutches with the local wild birds.”

Anders stared at the bird with wide eyes as it took up a perch upon his shoulder then reached over and almost affectionately tweaked a lock of his dark gold hair.

“It seems quite taken with you, _mi amore_ ,” laughed Zevran.

“Perhaps you should keep it as a pet - it would match your Grand Enchanter’s robes, love!” smiled Invictus.

“I couldn’t - I can’t!” exclaimed Anders as he shooed at the bird with his free hand. “I have a cat, remember?”

“You mean your _daughter_ has a cat now, you mean?” smirked Invictus.

“No, no, your - the other _you_ has a cat now,” disagreed Fenris, waving his glass of whisky somewhat clumsily, though he managed not to spill any.

“I - excuse me, I’m tired, I think I need to go lie down now,” said Anders suddenly as he jumped to his feet, the white crow fluttering to the table with a startled squawk. Anders turned and hurried away into his room.

“Maker, Fenris, how much have you had to drink?” exclaimed Invictus as he caught the elf’s hand and guided it back down before the elf could spill the whisky over them both. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“What _have_ I done?” asked the elf, a trifle belligerently as he blinked owlishly at his husband.

“He gets upset talking about the other him, remember? Just as you do, talking about the other Fenris,” added Invictus.

“ _Vishante kaffas!_ ” groaned Fenris. “I’d forgotten. I’ll go apologise.” He lurched to his feet and made to follow Anders, somewhat unsteadily.

“Oh no you don’t, love,” said Invictus as he stood and caught Fenris around the waist before the elf could trip and fall on his face and Zevran deftly rescued the tumbler of whisky. Invictus nodded his thanks to the Antivan as he began to wrestle Fenris slowly around towards the other bedroom. “You go look after Anders; I’ll look after our drunken husband here.”

“What about the crow?” slurred Fenris. “Are we keeping it as a pet?” He suddenly giggled. “It matches my hair.”

“Yes, yes _carissimi_ , it matches your hair,” nodded Zevran. “Go, I will look after Ser Crow here, and our tired Grand Enchanter.”

“That’s very good,” giggled Fenris before hiccupping. “Ser Crow. Ser Crows-a-lot! Didn’t Anders have a cat called Set Pounce-a-lot once? Maybe he’d like a crow instead. He likes feathers. He should be a crow person, not a cat person; he looks like a crow....”

“Alright, come on, love,” said Invictus firmly. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink. Let Zevran worry about the crow.”

“But I haven’t finished my whisky!” Fenris complained plaintively as the former Champion slowly wrestled him off towards the other room.

Zevran shook his head and sighed as he turned to eye the crow. “Come, my feathered friend,” he murmured to the bird. “This is no place for you.”

The bird hopped willingly onto his outstretched wrist, and he eyed it with a thoughtful look. “You are far too tame, my friend,” he murmured. “Perhaps I should take you to Leliana after all?”

The bird abruptly launched itself from his wrist towards the bedroom where Anders had retreated; he followed swiftly after, in time to see it swoop back through the open window. Zevran paused and eyed the window thoughtfully. “How strange,” he mused to himself, before turning away. 

He dismissed the bird from his thoughts and crossed to the bed to where Anders lay face-down, face buried in his arms. He sighed.

“Come, my love; talk to Zevran, hmm?”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal and Fenris return home, and Zevran discovers a spy.

Fenris groaned as Invictus tried to get him to take coffee before he and Hal were supposed to go. “No...can’t stand the smell of anything right now.”

“No one told you to get that drunk, love,” Invictus said as he swapped coffee for water. 

“One should never mix whisky with the fruits of the vine,” shrugged Zevran as he set a cup of coffee out for himself before picking up a steaming cup of what smelled like elfroot tea.

Fenris glanced at the cup. “You’re the one who gave me the whisky,” he growled. “It’s only fair you should give me something to take away this abysmal pounding in my head.”

“Ah, I am afraid this is not for you, _carissimi_ ,” shrugged Zevran. “This is for Anders; he is feeling a little delicate this morning also - no doubt at the thought of facing the council chamber later this morning.”

Fenris groaned. “Zevran....” he said plaintively as the Antivan headed into the bedroom.

When the other elf didn’t stop for him, he cursed him and his ancestors back to the Black City in Antivan, which caused Invictus to stare at him in surprise. 

“I don’t think what I could understand of that is physically possible love.” Vic replied.

“It isn’t, but it would be fun trying, no?” replied Zevran as he returned. “...Though I fear I might be crippled by that one.” As Fenris only cursed louder, Zevran tutted and shook his head. “...That one too... Now, _that_ one has distinct possibilities however.”

The white-haired elf gave up and settled for clutching his head and glowering balefully at the unrepentant Antivan.

“Do you need something love?” Invictus asked as he looked to Zevran for some kind of sympathy.

“Dorian...or Arden to open the portal back to Skyhold. I don’t trust myself to teleport a few feet, let alone back home. Willowbark tea that’s been steeped forever while you’re at it,” Fenris groaned.

“I don’t know about tea that’s been steeping forever, but I can try a rejuvenate if you like?” Vic offered.

“No ... magic, I already feel like shit. Not that our other husband cares,” Fenris moaned.

Zevran chuckled tiredly as he dropped into a chair at the table and reached for his coffee. “Forgive me, _carissimi_ ; it was very late before I was able to sleep, and then I had to report to Leliana to discuss certain matters requiring my attention early this morning. Many things seem amusing when one has not slept much.” He shrugged.

Fenris let him know just how unamused he was before he forced himself upright and reached for coffee. 

“Love...are you alright? You’re a bit too grumpy for just a hangover and a bit of harmless teasing,” Vic asked with a look to the Antivan. Zevran was oblivious; his own smile had faded as he slouched slightly in his chair to stare down into his mug, dark hollows beneath his eyes speaking volumes for just how little sleep the Spymaster was running on. Invictus found himself wondering just how much coffee Zevran must have drunk already that morning.

Invictus got them both healing and stamina potions before he stepped out to catch a servant so they could eat. He popped back in to see Fenris downing a stamina potion before refilling his coffee.

“I’ve ordered breakfast, maybe that will help?” Vic said as he topped up Zevran’s coffee.

The Antivan glanced up and summoned a smile for Invictus. “Doubtless Anders will feel more himself once he has eaten, too,” he remarked.

“I hope so, he was so spooked by that odd white crow that came in last night,” Vic said as he refilled his drink.

“Wait... that happened? I thought I was just very drunk and I imagined that,” Fenris said as he leaned back in the hopes his stomach would settle.

“No, the bird was real,” shrugged Zevran. “Leliana assures me that her Master of Birds has accounted for all of their white birds however. Anders was likely just very tired - the bird’s appearance was very unexpected, no?” Zevran turned his attention back to his coffee.

“Incredibly...and a bit eerie. Isn’t there something in Antivan folklore about white birds and omens? Or is that from Seheron? I can’t recall much at the moment,” Fenris muttered.

“Fenris, you didn’t answer me earlier and I’m worried for you love. You haven’t been so cranky and ... well... bratty in a while.” Vic glanced at the elf then back to his reports, hopeful it wouldn’t start an argument.

Zevran glanced up at Invictus, then back to Fenris, and waited a moment to see if he would respond to Invictus’ question. When the other elf didn’t reply, Zevran shrugged. 

“It is true that Antiva does have some small superstition concerning white birds, so I would prefer it if you said nothing to Ambassador Josephine - it is nothing to trouble yourself over however, _carissimi_ ,” he replied. 

“Considering how drunk I was, I am not going to relate anything I saw or possibly said to anyone once I’m back at Skyhold. I’m going to hug my children then fall on my bed for a couple of days,” Fenris replied before giving Invictus a curious look. 

“What’s that for? For me saying you’re being a handful or not letting it go? We’ve known each other too long for that Fenris, and every time you’ve gotten out of pocket it’s led to worse things; so I am concerned, love, not trying to make fun of you,” Vic said softly.

“Is there coffee?” asked Anders as he appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, sparing Fenris the need to reply immediately. He was slowly lacing up the cords closing the ornate sash belt of his formal Grand Enchanter’s robes. “What time is it?”

“A little after the ninth bell, and there is coffee left in the pot,” replied Zevran as he got to his feet to pour a cup for Anders.

“Oh good. I have another hour before I have to go meet Leliana,” Anders smiled wanly.

Invictus pulled out a chair for Anders and glanced to Zevran, comment cut off by the arrival of breakfast. 

“Thanks, love,” murmured Anders to Invictus, then smiled at the coffee Zevran set before him. He took a sip then glanced to Fenris. “How is the hangover this morning, love?” he asked gently.

“I’d rather walk on a bed of hot coals than be upright,” Fenris replied.

“Would you like a pick-me-up, love?” asked Anders solicitously as he lifted a hand that glowed faintly blue with healing magic.

“No, I think magic will make it worse. Vic has given me a healing and stamina potion. I plan to sleep when I get back,” Fenris answered with a glare for his Ferelden husband.

“I didn’t make you drink so much, don’t blame me for feeling like an ogre ran you over... love,” Vic said before helping himself to food.

“Offer’s there if you change your mind,” Anders replied before turning his attention to breakfast.

Zevran leaned back in his chair and watched the others thoughtfully; he wasn’t particularly hungry, having eaten with Leliana earlier. “Arden and Hal should be here shortly,” he observed after a little while. “They are taking breakfast with the Inquisitor at the moment.”

Fenris dug into his meal, glad to have something to keep the conversation off him and his odd behavior. 

“It’s kind of them to let us have time to ourselves before Hal and Fenris leave,” Anders mused. “I know it’s only for a few days, but they’ll seem very long indeed. I’m sorry I wasn’t feeling myself last night, loves.”

“It’s fine; I made an ass of myself, so you weren’t alone,” Fenris mumbled before he reached for water. 

“Fenris, stop it,” Vic snapped.

Anders blinked. “You had a few drinks, that was all, love,” he replied, before turning his attention back to his food. After a moment he asked in an almost too-carefully-diffident tone, “So... was _I_ being an ass then?”

“No, you weren’t. I am being incautious with my words. I’m going to go take a bath so I can be ready when Hal arrives; I can’t stick my foot in my mouth if I’m alone.” Fenris rose and headed to the room for a change of clothes and to avoid making anyone else annoyed with him.

Invictus scowled at the elf’s back, more out of concern at his avoidance than actual anger. Fenris had gotten better about talking over his feelings; this sudden distance bothered him.

Anders watched him go, then winced slightly. “No... I think that one was all me,” he murmured, half to himself.

“No, he was being an ass before you woke up. Not sure what’s bothering him since yesterday. Since he’s avoiding talking, I’m not going to press the issue. Anyway, what’s on the agenda today love? How can I help?” Vic offered.

“Leliana - sorry, Divine Victoria - and I have a meeting to discuss the united face the College and the Chantry will present on the subject of the Inquisition’s existence whilst making it clear that we both support the Inquisition but are independent of it,” Anders shrugged. “Though how much Teagan will buy it, I don’t know. We also need to discuss plans for Cumberland, and setting up further formal talks to discuss the precise nature of the future working relationship between the Chantry and the College.” He sighed. “Which Arden can’t help me with, though he’ll need to sit in on the meeting so he’s fully aware of everything the Grand Enchanter should know regarding what we’ve agreed.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” Vic asked as he poured Anders a bit more coffee and offered the pot to Zevran.

“Back me up in front of Teagan at the council later?” suggested Anders. “Make it clear the College at Skyhold operates independently of the Inquisition. I mean, it’s technically _not_ ,” he added, pulling a face. “But as far as anyone outside of these rooms and our staff are concerned, it is. It’s important we make that clear - to Teagan and the other Banns, but also to the Orlesians. The treaties Arden, Dorian and Fenris made with the Tevinter Circles and the Magisterium will come in useful there - they’ll be a handy deterrent against anyone deciding to ride roughshod over the College. No-one wants to take the chance of Tevinter turning its eyes south to their brother mages, with the Templar order in disarray and disbanded.”

“I wish Fenris wasn’t leaving yet, he could speak on Tevinter’s willingness to work with others now. If the Inquisition disbands, they won’t work with Ferelden or Orlais in the same way,” Vic said.

“Not particularly,” disagreed Anders. “He’s the Inquisition’s Ambassador to Tevinter - he can’t speak for Tevinter, whereas Dorian can. As far as the talks are concerned, his presence or absence makes little difference. But we do have an ace up our sleeves - if Arden and Dorian have come through for me as I asked them,” Anders shrugged, then smiled mischievously.

“What did you do?” Vic asked.

“Asked them to bring Calpernia here,” replied Anders. “She’s agreed to step in and work for me in an official capacity as the College’s representative to the Magisterium. She’s our liaison. Meneris agreed late yesterday, just after the council session and before Teagan tried to bend my ear away from the council’s official auspices. Which was why I was out of sorts yesterday - mostly.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised she’s allowed to do such after the way she’s spoken to Meneris at times. Dorian and I thought he was going to dismiss her so fast when she cussed him in the war room last time,” Vic mused.

“She has the ears of a large number of magisters, and she’s been working with the Magisterium. It would take far too long to establish a rapport with them with someone new - and when she’s not having to deal with Meneris, she’s fine,” Anders replied as he sat back, his plate empty. “She and I get along fine - it’s just Meneris she has an issue with. Turns out she’s very protective of those she considers ‘her’ people - and as a fellow mage of Tevinter, Dorian fell into that category and Meneris doesn’t. Apparently Meneris made the mistake of upsetting Dorian in her earshot whilst Dorian was exhausted from riding and just after laying his father to rest, so she gave him a piece of her mind.” He smiled slightly. “Just the kind of person I could use at my back with the likes of Teagan going after me, to be honest. And if he thinks she comes with the full weight of the Magisterium behind her - well. Meneris was glad to sign her over to my staff; couldn’t agree to the appointment fast enough for his liking, I suspect.”

“He’s just as volatile as Fenris can be, I’m surprised he didn’t just kick her off the staff is what I meant love. As long as she doesn’t alienate anyone further to us I’m happy to have her on your staff love.” Vic glanced at Zevran, unsurprised to see the Antivan’s eyes had closed as they’d sat around.

“I think Josie had something to do with that,” Anders confided. “I think she managed to talk him round and smoothed over ruffled feathers. She, at least, has an eye on the long term, even if Meneris can’t always see it himself. But that’s why Meneris has staff to deal with things and advise him.”

“Maybe we can get Josie to talk with Fenris when he’s being avoidant. I swear she can talk blood from a stone,” Vic muttered before he reached over to tap Zevran’s arm. “Love, you should get ready for the day or get a nap; you’re almost sound asleep.”

Zevran jerked as his eyes opened and his hand snapped up to grasp Invictus’ wrist. He blinked, then turned his head to stare at Invictus before releasing the mage’s wrist. “I... excuse me, I think I need to splash cold water on my face,” he said slowly.

“Maybe you should get a nap before you fall on your face. We’ll be fine for a couple of hours while you rest,” Vic said as he pulled back carefully.

Zevran glanced around until his eyes fell on the dwarven-made timepiece upon a side table. “No time; Hal and Arden should be here shortly. Where is Fenris?”

“He went for a bath, but he should be back soon,” Vic answered.

“Are you alright, love?” asked Anders, concerned.

“Oh, I was simply up very early, _mi amore_ ; I had to speak to Leliana and her Master of Birds,” replied Zevran as he got to his feet. “Concerning your little evening visitor, amongst other matters.”

“My... what?” asked Anders, blinking in confusion.

Invictus coughed and managed to fling his napkin at Zevran after a particularly hard one shook him. “Sorry, guess my throat is parched.”

Zevran frowned at Invictus, before glancing back to Anders. “The bird?” he reminded him.

“I’m sorry - bird?” echoed Anders, a small frown of perplexion appearing between his eyes. “What bird? What are you on about, Zevran?”

Invictus stopped ‘coughing’ and exchanged a glance with Zevran. “You don’t remember the bird, love?” asked Invictus slowly.

“No,” replied Anders as he gave Invictus a puzzled look. “There was no bird. Did a message arrive after I went to bed?”

Zevran and Invictus exchanged another glance. 

“Love, there was no message,” said Invictus.

Anders gave them a bemused look. “Well, I have no idea what you’re both talking about then,” he replied. “Excuse me - I just need to go sort out my hair before the others get here. Will one of you go hurry Fenris up? I haven’t got long until I have to go meet Leliana and I’d like a chance to say goodbye to him before he goes.” He rose to his feet and headed back towards the bedroom.

“What do you make of that?” wondered Invictus quietly.

“I do not know,” admitted Zevran. “Perhaps he was so tired he has forgotten?”

“He was scared of that bird, Zevran,” replied Invictus as he shook his head. “Oh well, we’ll worry about it later. I need to get ready as well - I’ll go chivvy Fenris along,” he added as he got to his feet. He drained the last of his coffee before heading off to the other bedroom.

***

“You’ll be safe in Skyhold, Hal,” said Arden as they said their goodbyes a short while later. “You can rest there properly and heal fully.”

“Please be safe,” the red-haired mage replied with a worried look. Arden smiled reassuringly.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied. “Don’t worry about me - just concentrate on recovering, and keep an eye on our Anders, alright?”

“I will,” nodded Hal.

Anders was busy bidding Fenris his own goodbye. “I’ll be fine,” he assured the elf with a lopsided smile. “I’ll have Vic and Zevran here, plus Arden and the rest of our Inquisition guards to keep me safe. You just rest up, and give my love to Ellowynne, alright?”

“Of course, and I am not remaining there permanently. I will return in four days time if not sooner. You know I hate being idle,” Fenris said quietly.

“No, you’ll come back when you’re rested, and not before, love,” replied Anders with a stern look before his gaze softened and he hugged Fenris tight. “Come back to us when you are ready, and not before - I _need_ you healthy and well, love,” he whispered. 

“As my healer, and husband orders,” Fenris said before he kissed Anders long enough to part for a breath. “I love you.”

“And I you,” breathed Anders before finally stepping away reluctantly to relinquish his place to Invictus.

Vic gave Fenris a nervous little grin, worried about his husband. “Give Pin and Cal a hi from me eh?”

Fenris nodded, then stepped in closer to his husband and wound his arms around Invictus’ waist as he leaned in to kiss slowly along the former Champion’s jaw. “Protect Anders, love,” he murmured softly. “And Zevran. He is not as well as he tries to pretend, and I cannot forget that it was in this very city he nearly died at the hands of Crows. I am not as certain as he is that he is as safe here as he thinks - and he still limps.” He turned his head slightly and claimed Invictus’ lips with a kiss.

Vic held Fenris fast until the elf drew back. “Of course my heart, should anything happen I’ll send for you. Rest well, I’ll miss you.” 

“Make sure Anders rests as well,” murmured Fenris. “And keep safe yourself.”

“I will, take time for yourself. I know you are not well either. Why you have held back from us, I do not know but I want you to take time to deal with things.” Vic gave him one last kiss on the cheek before conceding to Zevran.

The Antivan took Invictus’ place and smiled up at Fenris. “Do not worry, _mi amore_ ; I will keep them safe. You will give my regards to my apprentice, yes?”

Fenris drew Zevran into his arms then kissed him long, slow and deep before drawing back a little to stare into the former assassin’s golden eyes. “The truth, Zevran,” he said quietly. “Are you well enough to remain? Or should you return with us?”

“My place is here, _carissimi_ ,” shrugged Zevran. “Do not worry for me, my heart. These talks will be over soon, and once this little matter of qunari where they do not belong is taken care of then we shall all be returning soon also.”

“It’s no laughing matter, Zev,” said Fenris warningly.

“On the contrary - but it is not the qunari who will be laughing. Come; Arden waits to send you and Hal home. We will save some qunari for your greatsword, _carissimi_ ; have no fear.” The Antivan grinned then leaned up to steal Fenris’ breath with a kiss. “Now, go - and tell Anders’ young daughter I shall bring her back a present from Orlais.”

“Zev...” said Fenris; the Antivan flashed him a quick grin then stepped back as Arden lifted his hands to draw upon his mana and craft a portal to send them all home.

Fenris frowned at the other elf before he turned to the portal and home. “Take care of each other, see you in four days,” he said before stepping through.

Hal threw himself forwards for one last kiss with Arden then darted through the portal. Arden blinked, a little startled, but managed to hold onto the tendrils of magic until they were both safely through, then let the portal snap closed.

Invictus turned away to get ready, quiet as he contemplated what else awaited them from the Council.

“Arden, I’ll need you and Invictus with me at the meeting with Leliana,” said Anders as he fiddled with the cuff of his over robe.

“Perhaps I shall come with you three,” shrugged Zevran as he took a seat once more.

“Didn’t you say you’d been to see her already this morning?” asked Anders, frowning slightly.

“I am sure dear Leliana has not tired of me quite yet,” the Antivan replied with a faint smile.

“I doubt she would after a couple of hours. Let’s go so we can get this farce over with,” Vic said tiredly.

The meeting with Leliana was as straightforward as Anders had suggested, though Dorian’s arrival about half an hour after they started was unexpected; when Leliana nodded to Dorian and he rose to let Calpernia in, the reason for his presence became plain.

She stalked in and walked up to Anders, narrowing her eyes at him, then at Arden, before she jabbed Anders in the chest.

“Would have made things a lot simpler if you’d told me what you were up to first,” she said. “So, who’s the Grand Enchanter here - you or him?”

“I am,” replied Anders calmly. She glared at him for a moment longer, then nodded with a satisfied smile. 

“Good.” She glanced over at Dorian. “So, the magister and I are here to keep these southern lordlings in line, hey?”

“In a manner of speaking, Calpernia, yes,” nodded Dorian. “It is as I told you -”

“I want to hear it from _him_ ,” she interrupted as she nodded at Anders.

“Yes,” replied Anders, unperturbed by her abrasive front. “I need someone behind me I can count on to make it clear I have the Magisterium ready to breathe down their necks and it’s in their interests to deal.”

Calpernia shot Dorian a glance, then nodded with a sly smile. “I can do that for you,” she agreed.

Invictus narrowed his eyes at Calpernia but kept his thoughts to himself. He noticed the others didn’t let her get to him so he wouldn’t.

Leliana regarded Calpernia with a keen eye that missed nothing as she studied the Tevinter woman. The other woman tilted her head as she felt Leliana’s gaze and returned it, challengingly; after a moment, Leliana turned back to Anders as though Calpernia’s entrance had not interrupted matters.

Invictus turned back to them and gave Leliana and Anders his full attention until he was called on. “Yes, your Holiness?”

“Champion, your role will be -” Leliana broke off as she lifted her eyes to stare towards the doors; as Invictus glanced over, Zevran slipped into the room, and with a start Invictus realised he’d never even noticed the elf leaving.

The others fell silent and glanced at Invictus, then turned to see where he and Leliana were staring.

Zevran was slowly wiping blood from a long sharp skinning knife; as they stared at the blade, he straightened then gave them all a graceful bow. “He spoke,” he said quietly.

“And?” asked Leliana calmly.

“It is worse than we thought. You should come.” He glanced around at the others. “You should _all_ come.” He turned away.

“What’s going on?” Vic asked as he fell in besides Anders. 

“I have as much idea as you,” confessed Anders quietly. “But the look on Zevran’s face - Maker. It was... empty. That knife....”

“He’s a master of his craft, and I’m guessing he had to put in some work to make this person talk. Come love, let’s find out what’s going on.” Vic said as he took Anders hand in his.

Whatever they were expecting, it wasn’t the elven man bound to a table in one of the rooms down a long hallway off one chamber of the wine cellars, not far from the room with the Eluvian Fenris had stumbled through. From the looks of the man, Zevran had had to work diligently to obtain anything from him.

Anders stared at the man for a few brief seconds then staggered from the room, his face white. Dorian blanched slightly as he stared down at Zevran’s handiwork, then glanced at Invictus, uneasy. Arden stared down at the half-conscious man, seemingly impassive though the tension in his jaw belied his calmness.

Leliana and Calpernia stared down at the tortured man with cool detachment.

“What did you learn?” asked Leliana.

“There are fifty barrels of gaatlok directly beneath the council chamber,” replied Zevran quietly. His face was blank and impassive, his golden eyes flat and empty as he stared back at her, his arms folded, the skinning knife still held loosely in one hand. There was a single dot of blood beneath his left eye; the only stain upon his skin that betrayed the bloody work arrayed before them upon the table.

Invictus glanced at Zevran then to Leliana. “I can do a barrier on them so even if they go off, the damage won’t be as devastating as they hope.” 

As he spoke, he heard the sound of booted feet - at least a score of men marching towards the room through the vaulted cellars; a moment later, the Inquisitor entered the room, Cullen at his side. 

“So this is where everyone is, and I’m guessing from the looks on your faces the day is about to get interesting,” Meneris said as he approached Zevran and the unfortunate elf that had been caught.

“There was a spy in our midst,” said Zevran softly. “He was... _persuaded_... eventually to tell us where the gaatlok his companions had brought had been placed.”

“The palace is being evacuated as we speak, Inquisitor,” said Cullen. “We’re working with the Empress’ people to ensure that all the royal guests and attendees of the Exalted Council are safely evacuated. Most Holy Divine -”

Leliana lifted a hand, and Cullen fell silent.

“Meneris, there is more to this plot than an elven spy, gaatlok, or this matter of qunari. I think we will find it is all connected but there is something deeper here,” she said quietly. 

“Should I call Fenris and Hal back?” Vic asked. 

Cullen glanced back to the doorway; they could hear the sounds of someone retching. Cullen winced as he turned back to Leliana and Meneris.

“Not yet, give them at least a couple of days before we pull them back here. Especially Hal after he’s been in captivity for so long,” Meneris said with a glance at the door.

“I’ll tend to Anders, excuse me.” Vic said as he headed for the unpleasant noises.

Anders was slumped against the wall outside, near the door, two of the guards looking after him as he retched. As Invictus stepped towards him, one moved away slightly and he could see that they’d been supporting Anders, one holding back his hair gently. 

The mage glanced up at Invictus, bracing himself against the wall with one hand as he gasped for breath and panted.

“Zev - what he did - that man, I - Vic -” He closed his eyes and shuddered.

“It’s what he’s good at and how he’s survived this long. Come along love, I’ll get you some mint and water,” Vic said as he slipped an arm around his husband.

“No, the - the gaatlok, we need to make sure it’s stable, stop it going off,” protested Anders as he leaned into Invictus’ support. “Take me to it. I can deactivate it, if you help me.”

“You need to rinse your mouth at the least and we’re taking a warrior with us,” Vic said as he steered Anders to the table.

“Take ten minutes, then take Anders and see to the gaatlok. Leliana, Dorian and I will see to informing the Council and then we reconvene in the office we’ve been using, in three hours. If you’ll be late send a message. We all clear?” Meneris asked as he glanced at Zevran warily before looking to the others for confirmation they got his orders.

Zevran was cleaning his blades as Meneris spoke; at his final words, the Antivan sheathed the wicked-looking knives then bowed before glancing to Anders, who was staring determinedly at the floor and not at the ruined body of what was once an elf on the table before him.

“Anders -” began Zevran, but Anders shook his head.

“No. Zevran, I - just no. Not right now. I can’t. This - no.” He gestured at the broken, flayed body upon the table. “After this?” He turned to Invictus, closing his eyes. “Get me out of here,” he whispered. “The smell of the blood is making me dizzy.”

“Let’s go love.” Vic hurried him out of the room, an arm around the other mage’s waist as they put distance between themselves and the gruesome scene as fast as they could. As they hurried away towards the stairs that would lead them back up to the palace and the guest wing, he could feel Anders trembling as the mage clutched at his head and muttered to himself, stumbling along as though half-blind.

“Do you want to stop for a moment? Want me to cast a bit of rejuvenate on you love?” Vic asked quietly.

Anders lifted his head, and Invictus could see a brief sheen of golden spirit fire dance across his eyes before the blond mage groaned and clutched his head. “She’s... she’s angry... very angry... love, help me....”

Invictus tugged Anders into his arms and tried to reach Llyria. “Don’t take him from us right now, he’s needed. What’s done is done and if you take over, you’re signing his death sentence. You’re a guest, and if you take him over, those in control here will kill Anders. None of us want that, especially you,” Vic said quietly, in Anders’ ear.

Anders shuddered in his grasp, and then went limp as the spirit released him abruptly. His eyes rolled back and he groaned faintly as his knees gave way.

“Love? Love?” Vic called as he caught Anders before he could hit the stones.

Anders was a dead weight in his arms for a moment, his head falling forward as his eyes closed; but after a couple of heart-stopping minutes, he stirred, clutching weakly at Invictus as he lifted his head slightly, blinking dazedly.

“She... she’s backed off,” he finally managed. “Love? Love, you - you did it. You made her listen.”

“Thank fuck...come on, let’s get you on your feet and get a bit of tea and food into you before we deal with this gaatlok. No arguing either,” Vic said.

“No arguing,” Anders agreed as he leaned into Invictus’ support. “Maker. That - that was close.”

“It was; come on, love, let’s go,” Vic said.

Anders nodded, his face still pale.

They returned to the guest suite, Invictus guiding Anders to a chair before he fetched the pale enchanter a glass of brandy then rang for a servant and gave orders for food to be brought. The elven servant darted a couple of curious glances at Anders as he sipped slowly at the brandy, before she withdrew to follow Invictus’ orders.

There was a little more colour in Anders’ cheeks, though he was still rather shaken and withdrawn. Invictus sat next to him and took Anders’ free hand in both his, staring down at the long pale fingers that contrasted so against his own darker skin. 

“I’m worried about you, Anders,” he said quietly.

“Oh... that’s good, I’m worried about me too,” Anders joked weakly. Invictus glanced up at Anders, and the blond mage fell silent.

“Anders, I’m serious. You nearly lost control just then. If your spirit had taken you over - here of all places - you’d be dead. There’s nothing I could do to save you. This... love, she’s getting out of hand.”

“I know,” whispered Anders. “She’s getting stronger - just like Justice did. And just like with him, I don’t know what to do.”

Invictus drew Anders into his arms and hugged him tight. “I can’t lose you,” he breathed. “I know Fenris would say the same. You’ve got to hold on and hold it together, Anders. _Please._ ”

“I’m - I’m trying, love,” murmured Anders. He bit back a sob. “I’m trying _so hard_. But - when she saw what Zevran had done to that poor man....”

“Anders, that ‘poor man’, as you call him, was part of a plot to blow the council and everyone in this palace sky-high. He was in league with the qunari. Don’t feel sorry for him - Zevran did what he had to, to save as many people as possible,” said Invictus sternly. “Be glad Zev found him before he could carry out his plot.”

“Vic, he _flayed the man alive!_ ” protested Anders, horrified. “How - how could he even be capable of such a monstrous thing?”

“Love,” said Invictus firmly as he gripped Anders’ shoulders and stared into his eyes. “Zevran was a Crow. The Crow Master. He learned long ago to do whatever was necessary. Leliana wanted him to become her Left Hand - and believe me, what he did here? That would have been at her behest. Love, Zev won’t have done that happily. He did it because it was necessary.”

Anders straightened slightly. “You mean - this... this was Leliana’s doing? That Zevran -”

“He’s been less the Inquisition’s Spymaster and more the Divine’s since we got here,” said Invictus heavily. “Or hadn’t you noticed how he’s been running around at her behest the whole time we’ve been here?”

“Much as Leliana did for the old Divine,” Anders murmured, nodding. He glanced up at Invictus, finally meeting his gaze. “Love, you know how Zevran has spoken about little birds taking pieces of his soul - work like this, it - he’s terrified that one day he’ll just be the soulless _thing_ the Crows wanted him to be. Things like this - love, it’s exactly what he was most afraid of. How could he allow himself to be used like that?”

“I’m guessing because he figured he was keeping us safe,” replied Invictus.

Anders curled in upon himself. “Oh Maker. All that was - no, I can’t - Vic, I’m a _healer!_ ” he cried as he glanced up. “I exist to _heal_ , not harm - don’t tell me that that man died in agony on that table to save me, I can’t - I can’t handle that, not right now!”

“Anders look at me, and listen carefully, can you do that?” Vic asked.

Anders lifted his head to meet Invictus’ gaze again; after a moment he hesitantly nodded.

“Zevran is a Crow, our Spymaster and right now doing what he needs to keep all of us safe. Not just you, or me or Fenris. His work has never been clean or neat, or anything you or I could do and sleep at night. He’s doing what we can’t and we can’t get caught up in emotions over someone that would have lit the fuse and happily let us all die. If it helps, think of him on our wedding night, the last time you spent with him in Skyhold - just the two of you. Do not think on the man we left, because you won’t see him as anything else otherwise and fear him. Do you understand me?” Invictus kept his gaze locked to his husband's, hopeful he’d gotten through.

“I-” Anders swallowed hard, then nodded, his movements jerky. “I think so. It’s just - very hard. Llyria is so _angry_... it’s hard to think past that, and the fear. But I’m trying.” 

“I know love, I know. I’m here if you need help focusing, if you need anything. Just please let me help,” Invictus offered as he took Anders’ hand in his and sat quietly.

Anders glanced around and his eyes fell on the empty brandy glass. “Maybe another drink,” he murmured. “Food - I should eat.”

“Food will be here soon, maybe lay off the drink until we’ve eaten?” Vic said.

“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Anders. “But the drink makes her more... fuzzy and distant. Maybe that’s why Justice never let me drink? She doesn’t like it either. But she’s... scared now, as well as angry.”

“Do you want me to get Fenris? Sometimes his lyrium calmed Justice, perhaps it could do the same for her?” Vic asked.

“I want to say yes,” Anders confessed. “But he and Hal need to rest and recover.” He dropped his head into his hands and sighed. “Maybe a lyrium potion will suffice for now....”

“Alright once we eat, you get a potion, we deal with gaatlok and then we reconsider calling on Fenris. Or at least using Aeolus’ ring to contact him. I could damn sure go with hearing his voice right now.” Vic admitted.

“Oh Maker, so could I,” agreed Anders with a shaky smile. “But yes... food, lyrium, and then Aeolus’ ring,” he nodded.

“Yes, now let’s just relax for a bit while we can eh?” Vic rubbed his thumb over the back of Anders hand, noting the three freckles that dotted the spot right over his right thumb. “I love you.” he said quietly, deep in thought.

“And I love you,” Anders replied softly before leaning in to kiss Invictus gently, his eyes closing.

“We’re going to be ok, you know that right? We didn’t go through all this to let some damn qunari be the end of us.” Vic said as he held Anders close and fell quiet.

 

***

Hal sorted slowly through the boxes of his clothes that had been delivered to Arden’s room. Well, his and Arden’s room now, he supposed it was. He pulled out an armful of freshly-cleaned robes and carried them over to the large walk-in closet. Over half the closet was empty; he set to work to hang up his clothing.

He’d rearranged and sorted out half the closet when there was a knock at the door; he hung up the over-robe in his hands then wandered over to answer it. He opened the door to find Fenris there; he blinked, startled, then smiled.

The elf had changed clothes before coming to find him; he’d put on something more casual but wasn’t feeling that way. Fenris was tense, almost as if he expected to be sent away. “Hi.”

Hal’s smile was welcoming and warm as he reached out and caught Fenris’ hand in his then tugged him almost shyly into the room. “Fenris! I was wondering if I’d have to come look for you,” he grinned.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted time to yourself or with your Anders,” Fenris said as he let Hal tug on him. Hal led him into the room and over towards a comfortable-looking armchair.

“I’m not sure where Anders is, to be honest,” shrugged Hal. “His cat is here though.” He glanced over to a large overstuffed chair where the large ginger tabby was sitting up with a wide yawn.

“My guess would be the college if not in here. Do you wish to look for him? I was heading that way to catch Pin after her classes end for the day, and I have not seen Callus yet.” Fenris stood in the middle of room, feeling awkward and unsure what to say to the young mage now that they had some privacy.

Hal twisted his fingers together and dropped his gaze to the floor, the smile slipping. “Oh, ah... I’m sure he’s fine wherever he is....” He gave a funnily little laugh as he turned away, lifting one hand to toy with a loose strand of dark red hair distractedly. “I’m... not quite ready to go face the College yet.”

“What do you need?” Fenris asked as he approached and tugged at Hal gently so the redhead would come to him.

Hal let himself be drawn into Fenris’ arms willingly, wrapping his arms around Fenris’ neck as he rested his head against the elf’s broad chest.

“I’m... afraid,” he finally replied after a few minutes. “After so long away, blind - I can’t face... people. There are so many people here, and it’s... the noise is overwhelming, and... I can’t. Not yet. There have been... questions. About my scars, where I’ve been and - Fenris, I can’t face them. Not yet. It’s - _safe_ here.”

“It’s alright, I won’t force you to go anywhere Hal. If I’m honest, I am just as leery of others right now. I don’t want to face questions of why I’m back when the others aren’t or be interrogated on where you’ve been. I just want to see Pin and Cal, then hide with a bottle for awhile.” Fenris leaned his cheek against Hal’s head and sighed.

“This is nice.”

“This...” Hal sighed softly. “Yes. This is what I needed, when you came for me. For us to be free, safe - to be home, here in Skyhold.”

“I keep feeling the collar on my neck when close my eyes for too long. I keep seeing ...I ...Hal.” Fenris caught himself before he could lose his composure and break instead of comforting his lover. “Sorry, let’s just lie down for a while, maybe get dinner sent here instead of wandering around looking for anyone.”

Hal nodded. “I’ve already spoken to one of the servants and told them I want all my meals to be delivered to me here - I’ll just ask them to bring enough for both of us,” replied Hal as he pulled away and took Fenris’ hands in his, slowly walking backwards as he led Fenris back towards the bedroom area, which was curtained off from the rest of the room by long translucent swathes of pale linen. As they drew closer, Fenris realised there was a delicate design of roses painted over the linen in hues of rose, green and gold.

Hal parted the drapes with a hand and led Fenris into the bed chamber, which was decorated in pale hues - creams, gold and white. The bed itself was strewn with several white furs. Hal smiled a little self-consciously at Fenris as he climbed onto the large bed.

The elven warrior followed Hal and sat on the bed, unsure of himself for a change. He trailed his fingers over the roses, pondering what Hal could want from him. Fenris glanced to Hal then back to the bed, unsure of himself as he’d been the first time they’d slept together.

“What are you afraid of?” asked Hal softly. His hands had gone to the laces of his tunic and he was slowly unlacing it, tugging the cord free one pair of eyelets at a time, his eyes never leaving those of the elf.

“Myself...that I’ll forget myself and hurt you. Or ...that I failed you and don’t deserve to be with you.” Fenris replied.

“You won’t hurt me,” said Hal as he leaned over and put a single finger beneath Fenris’ chin, forcing the elf to look up at him as his tunic fell open. “You care for me too much for that, I think. You came for me. I knew you would come - and you did.” He smiled gently at the elf. “I want this,” he whispered as he leaned closer. “Don’t you want this too? Want _me?_ ”

“Of course I want you, how can you want me after I failed to keep you safe?” Fenris asked as he tried to look away; Hal’s gaze made him feel as if he was laid bare by the other man’s want.

“Fenris... I _want_ you!” said Hal more insistently. He took hold of Fenris’ hand and held it against his crotch, where Fenris was forced to realise the truth of Hal’s words. “I am not some child or some precious jewel, to be protected! Fenris, _I want you!_ ”

“I know you’re not a child Hal, my guilt is still getting in the way. Mythal, do I want you!” Fenris said as he finally moved to his back and tugged at Hal to straddle him.

Hal swung his leg across Fenris’ hips to kneel astride him then leaned over the elf, planting his hands either side of Fenris’ head. “Fenris. What good is your guilt to either of us?” he said seriously. “All it will do is make both of us feel bad. I’ve had enough of that. I want to feel _good_ for once.”

Fenris raised his hands until they rested on Hal’s hips and shrugged. “Whatever you want of me, it’s yours Hal. Anything,” he said as he forced himself to stare at his younger lover.

Hal stared down at him, and the stern, serious look left his face to be replaced by something softer, more vulnerable and yearning. “Will you - make love to me?” he asked quietly. “Gently, as if -” He broke off, and swallowed, his eyes suddenly glimmering brightly. “As if it were my first time?” he whispered.

Fenris gave him a smile and let his hands trail up to cup Hal’s face and tugged him down so he could kiss him slow, and easy. Hal melted against him, his lips parting willingly, inviting Fenris further in as he gave a little moan and closed his eyes.

“I love you, I’m sorry...I’m so happy you’re back with us,” Fenris said as he pulled back to breathe a bit. “I love you so much.”

Hal opened his eyes and managed a tremulous smile as a tear slipped free to roll down his cheek. “I feel like a nightmare is finally over,” he confessed. 

“Don’t cry, I won’t leave you, not again.” Fenris leaned up to kiss Hal again and roll them to the side so he could cuddle Hal while he tried to kiss him senseless.

“I’m sorry,” gasped Hal as he wiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. “Still find emotions tend to overwhelm me at times, and - I’m just so thankful to be alive, and no longer blinded, and away from that nightmare.” He tried to smile at Fenris. “Sorry, I’ll be -”

He broke off at the sound of fluttering at the window; he glanced up, bewildered, as a bird suddenly flew in past the open drapes, whirling around the room before swooping through to the other room.

“Oh, poor thing, it must be lost!” said Hal as he sat up. There was another whirring of feathers and then the bird swooped back in.

“How strange; I’ve never seen a white crow before,” mused Hal as he watched the bird swoop around the room.

Fenris’ eyes widened as he watched the bird flit around the room. “No, this is too weird. Where did you come from?”

Hal rose from the bed and moved towards the bird, gently ushering it towards the window. “Probably got confused, I think. Maybe it’s a messenger and got lost trying to find the Rookery.” He turned to the bird. “Come on, let’s get you out of here - you’re not meant to be here!” he chided gently. “Oh!” he exclaimed, startled, as the bird flew up to perch on his shoulder.

“No, get it out of here right now.” Fenris got to his feet and tried to shoo the bird out. “Please Hal.”

Hal walked carefully over to the window, eyeing the crow nervously. It clung to its precarious perch, spreading its wings for balance. He managed to get it to the window then it launched itself from his shoulder and soared away up into the sky. 

He closed the window then turned back to Fenris. “Well, _that_ was unexpected,” he smiled.

Fenris merely stared at him aghast.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gaatlok has to be dealt with - and the Council is interrupted in a way no-one could have foreseen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated.

Anders pushed away the plate of food, only half-eaten, and sighed. “Maker. The Council will have to be informed. Something of this magnitude....” He shook his head. “We have to make that gaatlok safe, then reconvene the Council. Meneris surely has no choice.”

Invictus sat his mug aside and rose, unsure Anders should be doing anything at all besides going back to bed. “Let’s go then love, and once we’ve taken care of it we can update the Council. Maybe it will put the Inquisition back in their good books.” 

Anders nodded as he got to his feet. “I am so heartily sick of all this politicking,” he sighed as he reached for his staff and turned towards the door. “I just wish it was all over. I should never have taken this thing on - being Grand Enchanter. I’m not made for this, love. It’s killing me by degrees.”

“Then you resign once the Council is over, and I do too. That’s it, we’re done with all this shit. I hated it as Champion, and I won’t see your life taken by it. Now, let’s do this so you can get some much needed rest.” Vic said as he headed for the door.

“Rest...” Anders laughed hollowly. “Yes. I need rest. I envy Fenris, that he can just hop back to Skyhold for a few days. Maker, I wish he were here - but he and Hal have deserved a break.” He sighed again. “Come on, let’s get this over with so we can call that wretched Council back.”

They headed back down to the wine cellars, where they were met by Cullen and the Inquisitor in the room where they’d found Zevran with his victim. Of the dead elf and his torturer there was no sign; the bloody table had been removed, no trace of the blood remaining on the floor. They could almost have thought they had imagined it, if not for the grave expressions of Cullen and Meneris.

“Shall we get this over with gentlemen?” Meneris asked tiredly.

“That’s what we’re here for, and I hope to Maker this makes Teagan back off a bit. He’s like a rabid mabari.” Invictus replied.

Dorian pushed himself away from the wall where he’d been leaning by the door. “Indeed. Perhaps Calpernia’s presence will assist there - she’s waiting by the gaatlok with Zevran. She very graciously offered to assist - Force magic being one of her fortes, thankfully, because Maker knows it’s not mine.”

“Nor mine,” replied Anders. “But I have... far more experience than I think anyone here might like with such explosives and their means of detonation.”

“Love...don’t, let’s not bring that up please?” Vic asked as he waved at Meneris to lead them to the basement.

“He’s got a point Invictus, but I see yours as well. Let’s see what they think we should do, and you can put your own abilities to work First Enchanter.” Meneris replied.

“I am as discomforted as you, Hawke,” said Cullen heavily as they headed off towards the location where the gaatlok had been stacked. “But I have to concede that of us all, Anders has the most experience of such things here - and the best chance of disarming it without blowing the whole palace sky-high.” He darted Anders a brief glance.

“And if I fail, then Hawke and Calpernia will at least be able to minimise the damage and ensure no-one else dies,” Anders said flatly, not glancing at Invictus as he spoke, his face pale.

Invictus opened his mouth to speak, but Meneris’ hand on his stopped him. He pulled away from the elf and fell back from the others so he could get himself under control before his temper made things worse.

Cullen glanced back at him, then looked to Anders and back to Invictus before dropping back to walk with him. “Hawke... I’m sure Anders will be fine,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “He knows what he’s doing - if anyone can disarm the gaatlok it’s him. But he’s right that we need precautions. He’s just being realistic - but I can understand why it’s the last thing you want to hear from him.”

“We barely got Fenris back in one piece, and haven’t had Hal back for a week, I can’t cope with the idea of losing him. Please, just give me a little space to get my mind on our task Cullen.” Vic replied quietly, his gaze on the blond ahead of them.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” said Cullen quietly. “Maker, it near kills me to think of us losing him; I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like for you. But if it were Cassandra in his place... Hawke - _Invictus_. Go to him. He must be terrified right now. Don’t - just - go to him, please. He needs you right now more than ever.” He gave Invictus a desperate look.

Invictus glared at Cullen then moved up to take Anders’ hand in his as they walked. He leaned over to kiss his husband and whisper endearments to him before they reached the gaatlok. 

Anders’ fingers tightened upon his. “So scared,” he managed in a low whisper. He swallowed hard. “Vic - if - if I don’t make it -”

“You’re going to make it, you’re the best one for this even if it scares you and I fucking hate it. You’ll be fine love and I’ll be right with you. No talk of you not making it, ok?” Vic said quietly.

Anders drew a deep breath, then nodded. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “This is - it’s all so much bigger than anything we ever faced back in Kirkwall. It’s almost like being a Warden again in some ways, except then we were following Solona. She was the Hero, we just had to follow her lead. Here, we - I guess in a way _we’re_ all being the heroes now, aren’t we?” He giggled briefly, then sobered. “Zevran. I - I need to talk to Zevran when this is done.”

“Of course love, anything you need it’s yours alright?” Vic said as he gave Anders’ hand another squeeze and a kiss to the back of their entwined hands. 

Meneris took Dorian’s hand in his, his mind on the qunari threat, the desire to go right back to bed and how rattled Zevran’s interrogation had him, even if he’d kept it to himself. “Amatus, can I just quit, right now?”

“Only if I can,” Dorian shot back. “In fact, I would dearly love to just jump right back about five hours or so and have none of this happen - but somehow I don’t think I’m going to get either wish any time soon. I’m only glad no-one expected me to raise that - that _thing_ Zevran left by the time he was finished and make it bloody speak - and I tell you right now, Meneris, that if anyone on that bloody Council suggests it -” He broke off and glanced away. “That was butchery. That - Meneris, if that’s what the Inquisition has come to? Then perhaps it’s time to walk away from the whole thing, because I’m not sure I have the stomach for work like that. I’m not sure I’ll be able to look Zevran in they eye again after that.”

Meneris halted and stepped away from Dorian, unable to hold in his lunch at the reminder of what his Spymaster was capable of. He’d been fine earlier, but his husband’s words made him recall it with a clarity he didn’t want.

“Meneris!” exclaimed Dorian, his eyes widening in alarm as he darted to the elf’s side to support him, holding him up as the other man retched, his stomach heaving. “Amatus, forgive me, I’m so sorry - I shouldn’t have said anything, forgive me!”

“What’s going on? Inquisitor?” said Cullen as he pushed forward; Dorian waved him back.

“Just give him a minute, stand back!” snapped the magister. “Just give him space, damn it!”

Meneris waved Dorian away as well so he could throw up in peace. He straightened slowly and took a sip from the flask pressed into his hand before turning back to the others. “Apologies, something didn’t agree with me is all. Let’s get back to our task.” 

Invictus felt Anders squeeze his hand harder than necessary before the mage stepped forward to offer healing. Anders moved over to the other side of Meneris.

“Let me help you?” he asked gently, one hand already glowing blue as he held it up, unwilling to touch without express permission.

“Fine, then we should get back to it, sorry that I caused a fuss. I’m usually more sturdy than this.” Meneris said as he awaited his Grand Enchanter’s touch.

Anders gave him a sympathetic look as he pressed his glowing hand gently against Meneris’ abdomen and channelled a little healing magic there to settle the elf’s digestion. “If it helps, I feel much the same way,” he confided. He stepped away. “Does that help?”

“Yes, thank you Anders.” Meneris gave him a slight smile before he rejoined the party, took Dorian’s hand in his and resumed their path.

“Yeah, we need to get away once this is done.” Vic said softly.

Anders leaned in against him and rested his head on Invictus’ shoulder briefly as they walked. “Will you take me away to Nevarra?” he asked wistfully.

“Yep, we’ll have Fenris teleport us so it only takes a short while. I can look into buying a small house for us, with enough room for the kids, a space for you to brew and for a library. It will be perfect love.” Vic said wistfully.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” smiled Anders as they turned a corner.

The smile fell from his face as they stared at the veritable small mountain of barrels of gaatlok stacked directly below what must be the Council chamber. Anders straightened and walked forward slowly, whistling low.

“Maker. I hadn’t quite fully grasped how much fifty barrels of gaatlok would look,” he murmured as he began to slowly walk around the pile of barrels.

“Nor had I, it’s...a lot of black powder to contain.” Vic said as he eyed the barrels and his husband.

“What can we even do with it? Would it be possible to open a portal, send it into the Fade?” Meneris asked.

Arden followed Anders to the foot of the stack of barrels and glanced up at them, then to Calpernia as she strode out of the shadows, Zevran lingering back by one of the pillars that supported the vaulting roof of the cellar.

“Glad you could make it, Grand Enchanter - and your double,” she added, giving Arden a grim smirk. “Not sure what use you’ll be here though, Arden, unless you have some secret knack for Force magic you’ve not told me about?”

“No, I haven’t,” replied Arden. “I have something more useful - I can create a portal and bring our strongest Force mages from Skyhold to come help form a ring around this stuff and help you and Invictus enclose it in a strong enough barrier to protect the rest of us just in case.”

Anders glanced back at him. “Do it,” he ordered.

“Let me assist,” said Dorian as he hurried over, then smiled at Arden. “The two of us can form a larger portal than one alone, after all.”

Arden nodded, and then the two men stood side by side as Calpernia, Anders and Zevran moved further away to give them room.

Dorian and Arden drew upon their mana in unison, then began to form the portal, their hand gestures and movements mirroring each other precisely as they shaped the energies then flung open a portal directly into the main practice chamber of the College at Skyhold.

Anders glanced to Invictus then beckoned as he moved to stand in front of the portal. They could see Parcival on the other side with a group of senior students and enchanters, all of whom had turned to stare in amazement.

“Grand Enchanter? First Enchanter Hawke!” exclaimed Parcival.

“Senior Enchanter Parcival, we require the assistance of all the most powerful Force mages you can assemble,” said Anders firmly.

“You’re in luck then,” said Parcival as he glanced around. “This is the advanced battlemage group - all our strongest battlemages, the ones most skilled in Force magic, apart from Pin; she’s with her father. Would you like me to send for her?”

“No,” replied Anders, shaking his head. “How many are veterans of the Clearing?”

Fifteen of the older mages glanced at each other then stepped forward. Anders nodded to them and gestured for them to come forward through the portal. Parcival followed them to the edge of the portal.

“I have no idea what’s going on; I trust you’ll inform me later, First Enchanter?” he said quietly.

Invictus nodded stiffly, then as the last of his students passed through the portal, he nodded to Arden and Dorian, who let the portal close. 

Anders turned back to Meneris and the others. “These mages will be enough to contain any blast,” he said quietly. He glanced to Invictus. “I’ll leave that to you, love. I need a few moments to prepare myself.” He turned and walked back towards the stack of gaatlok barrels, as the battlemages turned to listen attentively to their First Enchanter.

Invictus looked to each of his students carefully, worried for what they planned to do, but eager to get it done. “Do what the Grand Enchanter asks of you, and we’ll make sure that...that if any of them go off, the blast goes no further than this room. Do you understand?” 

The students glanced at each other. “You mean, we create barriers like we did along the ramparts during the siege, ser? Only, focusing any blast inwards and containing it?” asked one woman.

“Exactly, I hope to Maker we don’t need to do that but with all of us here, any mishap can be kept to this room with as little damage as possible. Now spread out and get ready.” Vic approached Anders quietly, unsure if the other mage was ready or not. 

Anders glanced at him, his gaze a little unfocused. “Are they ready?” he asked in a distracted tone.

“Yes love, are you?” Vic asked as he took his husband’s hands in his and pressed his forehead to the former warden’s. “I love you so fucking much Anders. You’re going to be fine, you’re going to do this and you’ll be ok.”

Anders smiled gently. “A kiss for luck?” he asked, closing his eyes.

“Of course.” Vic pulled him into his arms, kissing him for luck and for a reason to make it through disarming enough gaatlok to take down the whole place and then some. Invictus pulled away reluctantly before he refused to let his husband go through with it.

Anders was already turning away, focusing on what he had to do. “I’ll begin once the barrier is raised,” he said, an air of calmness settling over him as he stared at the barrels.

Meneris stepped back along with Cullen, nervous over what was to happen. “Be ready to subdue Invictus if the worst comes to pass. He won’t be consolable should Anders perish.” 

“Nor will Zevran, I fear,” remarked the Commander as he nodded towards the Antivan, who stood by the pillar, watching as the mages suddenly drew upon their mana at some unseen signal from Invictus, and the air shimmered with the power of a Force barrier that encircled the stack of barrels, Anders standing inside the barrier at the foot of the stack as he stared up. They watched as the Grand Enchanter held his hands out and a faint golden glow slowly outlined his form before he stretched one hand out towards the stack.

As they watched, a stream of shimmering energy streamed from his hand out into the stack of barrels. At first, they could see no effect; and then slowly the whole stack became suffused with a soft, golden glow. The mages holding the barrier glanced at each other but held the magic as they turned their attention back onto what was happening inside the barrier.

There was a sudden spray of sparks from one of the barrels closest to Anders; he focused both hands upon it, and after a moment the sparks died down, until the barrel was as inert as all the others.

They had no idea how long they stood there watching, but finally Anders’ arms dropped to his sides and he turned to face Invictus. Through the shimmering force field they could see him give a tired grin as he swayed slightly.

“Is it safe now?” Invictus asked as he fought the urge to drop the barrier and run to Anders.

Anders nodded, exhausted. Behind him, the golden shimmer that suffused the stack of barrels was slowly dying away until the stack finally went dark.

Invictus dropped his barrier and ran over, pulling Anders into his arms, kissing his face and thanking the Maker, Mythal and Andraste that he’d pulled it off. “See, I told you, I told you that it would be ok.” 

Meneris simply watched them, unwilling to get in between spouses. He watched as Zevran approached them carefully, slipping between the two mages so he could check on Anders himself.

Anders blinked as Zevran appeared between them; his eyes tightened with a look of wariness for a moment, until Zevran glanced up at him and Anders could see the bright glimmer of tears in the elf’s eyes. 

“Zevran -” he began, but the elf dropped his gaze and glanced aside, brushing at his face with one gloved hand.

“These cellars - they are very dusty, no?” remarked the Antivan thickly.

“Incredibly dusty, I’ve got something in my eye as well my hearts. Come, let us get out of here so Arden and Dorian can send our students back.” Vic said as he pulled away to thank his charges.

Anders smiled tiredly as Invictus turned away to call his students together. His eyes closed, and then his knees began to buckle as Zevran slung an arm around the fainting man’s waist to hold him up, swearing to himself.

Meneris frowned at the sight of Anders going down, disliking how easily the mage was wiped out. “Thank you, both of you Invictus, I can’t imagine we’d have pulled this off without you or Anders.” 

“Thank me by letting him rest, once we’ve told the Council they are safe from qunari black powder. After that you leave him be the rest of the day and let Arden take his place. Your First Enchanter, and his husband requests that of you, Inquisitor.” Invictus stared at the elven leader, unwilling to budge.

“I’m... I’m alright,” Anders gasped as he opened his eyes, leaning heavily on Zevran as he slowly straightened. “I’m alright, I was just a little drained. I’ll be fine.”

“It will take a certain amount of time to have the Council members recalled and reconvened in any case,” pointed out Cullen.

“Excellent, we’ll be on our way to our chambers. If someone could get us when the Council is ready to reconvene, we’ll see you for the farce.” Vic gave them a bow and helped Zevran keep Anders on his feet.

“I’ll be alright, honest,” protested Anders weakly as Invictus and Zevran slowly walked him back, his arms slung across their shoulders. “I was just... dizzy for a moment.”

“We know love, we just feel better helping you in case you get dizzy again, right Zevran?” Vic said as they made their way back to their rooms.

“Perhaps we simply wish to touch you and be certain for ourselves that you are well, _mi amore_ , hmm?” said Zevran soothingly.

“Oh... well....” Anders sighed. “I’m not going to fight you on this, loves.”

“Good, I’ve had enough fighting for a while. Once you’re settled, we can get Aeolus to come by so you can talk to Fenris, that will be nice right?” Vic asked.

“Yes,” agreed Anders. “Sweet Andraste, I miss him.”

“I do too, Maker do I miss him.” Vic said tiredly. 

They headed slowly up the stairs that would lead them to their rooms and at least a couple of hours’ rest.

***

Pin frowned as she walked slowly back from the College. She stared at her feet, scowling at her boots as she scuffed them against the stones of the courtyard before taking the steps up to the main keep two at a time. Not looking where she was going, she nearly ran into someone just stepping out of the keep’s main foyer, looking up only at the last minute in time to lift her hands to brace against the tall warrior’s chest.

“I’m sorry, ser, I wasn’t looking where I -” She broke off as she glanced up into the man’s face, and then the scowl left her face to be replaced by a delighted grin. “Father!” She jumped up and flung her arms around his neck. “Father, you’re home!”

“For a little while, missed me I take it?” Fenris said as he caught her before she could drop back to the floor. “Have you been behaving in class?”

A small frown returned to her delicate features. “Class was cancelled - something about an emergency and over half the battlemage class being required elsewhere. No-one knows what’s going on, and the main practice hall is locked. Senior Enchanter Parcival said all classes are cancelled for the next few days.”

“That’s not normal, I wonder if it has anything to do with Orlais?” Fenris wondered as he continued to head for the dining hall. “Well, have you been behaving otherwise? I know you have my temper Pin.”

She kicked her legs slightly and glanced down to the floor. “Put me down first!”

Fenris sighed and put her down, almost reluctantly but he didn’t show it. “Too good for your papa to carry you around?” 

“Father! I’m not Ellowynne!” she chided in a low hiss as she glanced around in case any of her classmates had seen. “I get enough teasing from some of the other apprentices as it is!” She scowled.

“Alright, alright I won’t try and carry you around, even if you are small compared to me. Come, let’s walk and you can catch me up on things, and maybe we can find your brother while we’re about.” Fenris managed not to smirk at her insistence that she wasn’t a little child. 

“At this time of day? If he’s not up in the Rookery fetching messages then he’ll be out in the practice rings,” she shrugged. “With the Inquisitor and all the staff over in Orlais, there’ve been fewer messages than usual though. Only about three or four crows a day, though there’s been quite a few white crows flying back and forth - I guess from Zevran and the Divine? Makes sense he’d use the Divine’s birds I suppose.” She shifted her staff on her back; Fenris noticed she was carrying Anders’ old Warden staff still, rather than the more ornate caduceus staff Anders had given her.

“I guess so Pin. Let’s go to the practice rings, maybe I can see how he’s doing and challenge him for a change. I’m getting rusty with all of this talking rather than fighting.” Fenris said, ignoring the white birds altogether. That wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“He might be practicing against some of the Chargers,” she shrugged as they headed down the steps and towards the practice rings. The sounds of cheering and shouting came from one of the rings; they veered over in that direction.

A large crowd had gathered around the ring; Pin squeezed through, wriggling between shouting and yelling soldiers until she could get to the ringside, Fenris following more slowly as the shouting men around them accidentally knocked into the large elf, recoiled and then pulled their friends out of the way to let the grim-looking warrior through. Pin had climbed up on the fence that ran all around the ring, and as Fenris joined her she was yelling as loud as any of the others.

“Come on, Cal - slaughter him!” she screamed encouragingly.

If Callus heard her, he gave no sign. He was squaring off against Skinner and Krem. The older elf was armed with two long fighting knives, Krem with the murderous-looking maul that Fenris had encountered himself. Callus was armed with a pair of fighting knives in the same curved Antivan style that Zevran always favoured.

Skinner lunged towards Callus as Krem moved in on the youth’s other side. Callus deftly parried the older man’s knife thrusts then dropped and rolled away from the swing of Krem’s maul, coming to his feet with daggers twirling before he leapt towards the Captain of the Chargers. Krem was forced to retreat swiftly as the knives licked out towards him; he managed to swing the heavy maul around for a swing but Callus backflipped away in a move that was very familiar to Fenris after so many years fighting alongside Zevran.

“Skinner’s behind him!” gasped Pin; it was almost as though Callus heard his sister however, as he brought his knives up in an overhead block as Skinner’s knives flashed downwards, before he spun on one foot, the other lashing out to hit Skinner square in the midriff. The older elf flew back several feet, stumbling before falling to one knee. 

Without pausing, Callus drew his feet beneath himself and then sprang up and backwards, somersaulting over Krem’s head as the Tevinter mercenary ran forward. He landed behind Krem, one blade between his teeth as his free hand darted out to snag the back of Krem’s tunic, yanking the startled man off his feet. The maul went flying as Krem hit the dirt then froze as the blade in Callus’ other hand flashed down.

Callus plucked the blade from between his teeth as he rolled away, leaving Krem pinned to the dirt by the long knife that pierced his collar and pinned him down as the youth leapt to meet Skinner’s twin blades with his one. There was a brief flurry of blows, Callus twisting aside from Skinner’s slashes to parry with his own blade before his foot lashed out and suddenly Skinner was on his back, one blade skittering across the ring, the other in the hand that was now pressed to the dirt by Callus’ foot upon the older man’s wrist as Skinner stared at the blade now tapping against his forehead.

“You’re dead, Skinner,” Callus grinned as the crowd erupted into even louder cheers, with shouts and goodnatured ribbing for the two Chargers.

Fenris’ cheers were loudest, along with his clapping as he approached his son. “That’s damned impressive Cal, remind me not to take you on.” 

Callus’ head jerked round, his eyes wide with surprise as he panted, one hand lifted to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Father?” he exclaimed. 

“All day, every day. That was magnificent Cal and you’ve bested Krem, something I never pulled off.” Fenris said as he leaned against the railing and watched Cal gather his things.

Callus slid his knife back into his back sheath then walked across the ring to free Krem who grinned at him ruefully. Callus pulled Krem to his feet then they both walked back over to Fenris and Pin.

“Your kid’s got a place in the Chargers any time he gets bored of running around for Zevran, Fenris,” grinned Krem.

“Not going to happen,” Callus replied, but he was grinning as well.

“How _is_ your husband, Fenris?” asked Krem. “I didn’t hear any riders coming in - just you then?”

“He’s alright, there’s still work to do for Meneris and the Divine. I...needed to come back for a few days after being injured.” Fenris hedged.

Callus frowned. “Is that why your left leg is a little stiff, father?” he asked. “What happened?”

Pin whirled around to stare at Fenris’ leg, as if she could see what was wrong with it merely by looking. “You never said anything about being hurt!” she exclaimed. “Is that from when you went missing?” She stared up at her father. “Dumat, we were almost out of our minds with worry for you when Arden said you were missing! We looked all through Skyhold in case you’d come back here!” She clutched at her hair distractedly.

Fenris gently pulled her hands from her curls and smiled at her. “Come, both of you let’s take lunch in my office and I’ll explain. I’d rather not discuss this outside at the training ring.” 

“Good spar, Cal. I’ll catch you later, yeah?” said Krem as he nodded to them all then headed back across the ring to tease Skinner.

They headed up into the keep; they’d barely set foot inside when Fenris felt the ring on his hand vibrate suddenly.

Fenris stepped to an alcove before rubbing his thumb over the dark stone. “Yes?”

“Brother? I have Anders and the others here. I think they rather could do with hearing your voice - Anders in particular,” said Aeolus. His brother’s voice sounded unusually grave and serious. “I think I’d better pass my ring over to Zevran; he can explain better than I.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Zevran’s voice. “ _Carissimi_?”

“Yes, _cariadad?_ ” Fenris felt Pin’s arm around his waist and glanced up to see Callus watching them both.

There was the sound of a low sigh. “ _Carissimi_ , it is good to hear your voice. We have made a rather... unsettling discovery here. There was a Qunari spy here - an elf. I... persuaded him... to tell me of the rather alarmingly large cache of _gaatlok_ that was stored directly beneath the council chamber - a cache that has thankfully been made safe by our husbands, with assistance from the most capable mages of Skyhold.”

At Zevran’s words, Callus turned slightly green.

“Oh - I wonder if _that’s_ what all that business at the College was about?” murmured Pin.

“Do you need me back sooner than I’d planned? Are you all ok?” Fenris asked hoarsely.

“No, no, we’re fine now,” interjected another voice - Invictus. “The _gaatlok’s_ been rendered inert by Anders; he had the scary job, the rest of us were there for damage limitation that thankfully wasn’t necessary. The Council’s on temporary hiatus until they can bring them all back and reconvene, so we’re taking the chance for Anders to rest for a while - but he could really do with hearing your voice love.” 

“I could do with that as well, where are you Anders?” Fenris asked.

“I’m here,” replied Anders; his voice sounded exhausted. “We’re in my room here in the palace. For some reason, Zevran and Invictus insisted on me coming straight here.” Fenris could hear the amusement in Anders’ voice. “So you’ll have to picture me lying here on this sinfully large bed as I’m talking to you. I’m wearing these ridiculous white Grand Enchanter’s robes, but you can picture me lying here naked if you’d rather.” 

There was a muffled snigger and a whispered “ _Anders!!_ ”; beside him, Callus’ eyes had widened slightly, and Pin had clapped her hands over her mouth and was blushing pink.

Fenris groaned and shook his head at his children. “Love, I’m not alone.” 

“Invictus, stop it I - oh! Whoops! Sorry, love. Um. This is me making a contrite face at the ring. Which, uh, of course you can’t see. Right.” There was a sound of a hand slapping something; Fenris could imagine Anders face-palming in embarrassment. “Yes. Well. Uh, sorry to whoever just had a mental image of me that perhaps they really didn’t want. Unless they did. Uh. Oh Maker, I should start over. Right. Hello, love. Andraste’s flaming knickers, I miss you.”

“Anders...I’m with Pin and Callus, please… save that for when I’m alone. I miss you too my heart.” Fenris said as he dared to glance at his daughter, then his son before closing his eyes.

“Oh Maker I am so, so sorry. Callus, Pin, forgive me; I thought your father was alone. I’m interrupting.” Anders sounded remorseful and genuinely contrite this time. “Fenris, I had no idea -” There was a sound of a distant shout and other voices. “What - already?” Anders exclaimed; he sounded surprised and displeased. “Yes, alright, tell them I’ll be there directly. Maker, love, I’m sorry. Apparently they’ve managed to recall the Council faster than they thought and they’re calling for me. I love you. I’ll speak to you later? OK? I love you.”

“I love you, I’m so glad to hear your voice Anders. Be well, make sure you eat and sleep alright? I miss you my beloved.” Fenris replied softly, a frown marring his features as the ring buzzed against his hand before dimming. 

“Well there’s a mental image I could have done without,” muttered Callus. “Ow!” he added as Pin slapped him with the back of her hand, watching her father’s face worriedly.

“Father?” she said quietly.

“It’s ok Pin, it’s just worrisome when they use the rings to call. It’s never meant anything good, and I miss them is all.” Fenris said.

“Father, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” shrugged Callus. “It sounds like Grand Enchanter Anders was just very tired and perhaps didn’t want to wait to send a letter. The rings _are_ a more practical way for you all to keep in touch, after all.”

“I know Cal, I know.” Fenris said.

“Maybe you can talk to him after this council thing has finished for the day,” suggested Pin. “It sounds like he wants to. And at least this way you know he’s alright.” There was a faintly anxious look in her eyes; as though she, too, needed that reassurance.

“Come on, Father,” said Callus. “Let’s go get lunch, sit down, and you can tell us what’s been happening. It sounds like there’s been a lot going on....”

***

Anders swept into the room, arm-in-arm with Leliana; Meneris strode in behind them, Invictus and Zevran following him in turn. 

The reconvened Council rose to their feet at Leliana’s entrance. Anders walked her to her seat; she stood and watched as Meneris and Invictus moved to their places, Zevran standing beside Josephine who looked as calm as ever. Anders moved to his seat beside Leliana, and then she sat. A moment later, the rest of the Council sat, apart from Zevran who remained standing just behind Josephine’s chair.

“Our thanks for the speedy resolution of the emergency which necessitated the evacuation of the Palace, Inquisitor,” said Leliana as she steepled her fingers and leaned forward. “Perhaps, for the benefit of those who were not present this morning when the emergency arose, you might explain what happened?”

Invictus rested a hand on Anders’ shoulder as he awaited Meneris’ explanation.

The elven warrior recounted the plot they had uncovered, even replaying the harrowing wait as Anders diffused the gaatlok, with the help of Invictus, Dorian and their apprentice while Zevran and Cullen kept vigil. He gave a respectful nod to the others before turning back to the Council. 

“How convenient that the Inquisition could call upon the services of so many powerful mages at such short notice,” said Tegan drily.

“It is indeed fortunate that the College is in a position to be able to assist the Inquisition and the Divine,” replied Anders smoothly. “I must thank the Tevinter Ambassador for his timely assistance.” He inclined his head to Dorian, who nodded back in return.

“Tevinter is always glad to assist the Magisterium’s Southern brethren, Grand Enchanter,” he replied. There was a sudden flurry of quiet whispers amongst both the Fereldens and the Orlesians.

“We have reached an accord with our Northern mages, as well as with the King of the Anderfels. They offer their aid as well, should we need it.” Meneris said.

“The First Warden has sent his regards and an offer of assistance to the Inquisition should it be needed in tracking down those Venatori yet at large,” added Josephine.

“The Wardens were all exiled - of what use is the word of traitors and exiles?” sneered Teagan.

“Arl Teagan -” began Josephine, but got no further; there was a sudden sharp crack and smoke suddenly billowed up from the floor directly before the table, and then suddenly a black-clad figure appeared upon the table directly before Anders and Leliana. Anders lurched to his feet as the figure drew a blade; he had an impression of pale, almost colourless eyes that seemed somehow very familiar only a split second before the blade suddenly lunged forward.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Before Invictus could react, the assassin had thrust the long dagger through Anders’ heart. Anders staggered back as shouts and screams of alarm rang out, the mage clutching at the hilt of the blade embedded in his chest. He had a bewildered expression as he stared down at the knife, and then suddenly his legs gave way.

Invictus caught him as he crumpled to the floor; Anders’ head fell back and he was staring up at Invictus, still with that same confused expression.

“Love - love, I....” Anders lifted a hand weakly to clutch at Invictus’ robes; dark red blood was soaking through the white of his robes, staining the cuff of his sleeve, smeared upon his fingers. Invictus found himself taking in all these details even as Anders seemed to struggle to speak.

And then Anders’ eyes closed and his hand fell away limply.

“No! No… you can’t die on me. No….” Invictus screamed as he touched Anders neck in the hopes he’d find a pulse.

Meneris glanced at Dorian then to the Divine. “How did this happen? Dorian, get help!” 

Leliana dropped to her knees beside Invictus as he cradled Anders and felt desperately for a pulse. She reached for Anders’ limp wrist, and then pressed her hand to her mouth as she stared at the knife embedded in Anders’ heart, the dark blood standing out livid against the snow-white of his robes. “Dead!” she cried out. “The Grand Enchanter is dead! Murder! _Murder!!_ ”

Zevran screamed, a desperate, bloodcurdling cry as he threw himself forward, leaping across the table to throw himself down beside Invictus. “No! _NO!!_ ” he howled as he reached for the limp body of their husband. “ _Mi amore_ , no, no! You cannot die!” He screamed again as he crumpled against Invictus, one hand clutching for Anders’ limp hand as he began to weep.

“It’s... it’s not possible....” said Dorian slowly, in shock. “Meneris... Meneris, that was... Cole!”

“Are you sure?” said Josephine, her eyes widening. 

“I... I’m not sure of anything right now,” Dorian faltered. 

“No...no, no...NO!” Invictus screamed as he held Anders body in his arms.

“Get him out of here, the Council is adjourned for now.” Meneris said with a look to the Ferelden contingent.

The Fereldens seemed as shocked and horrified as everyone else; Teagan’s face held only open sympathy and sorrow as he stared at the group now gathering around the body of the Grand Enchanter. “I quite agree, Inquisitor,” he nodded. “This is no time for a Council.”

The Orlesians were nodding agreement also as they rose to their feet and began to withdraw from the chamber. Cullen cast them a brief glance as he made his way over to join those clustered around Invictus, Zevran and Leliana. He made his way through the crowd until he stood beside Leliana, then he slowly dropped to one knee. He stared at Invictus, then Zevran, before his gaze dropped to Anders’ pale face, still and peaceful in death. Then he bowed his head as Leliana’s voice rose in quiet prayer, committing Anders’ soul to the Maker.

“No...he’s not gone, he’s not gone. He didn’t survive this morning to die like this.” Invictus was sobbing brokenly over Anders body, unwilling to let anyone take him.

Cullen lifted his head to stare at Invictus with a look of deep sorrow. “Hawke,” he said gently. “He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

“No… he’s not. This is a mistake, a terrible mistake. I’m dreaming and I’m going to wake up and he’s going to be ok, right Cullen? Please tell me this is wrong.” Invictus still held Anders body, even as he felt Zevran’s touch upon his arm. The Antivan was sobbing bitterly, shaking his head, even as he clutched at Invictus and buried his face against the mage’s shoulder.

“Gone, gone... Rinna, Solona, now Anders, it is too much! Too much!” he wept.

“Invictus, I’m truly sorry. There’s... nothing that can be done for him now,” said Cullen sadly.

“Help..help us take him to ...where do we take him? Someone..oh Maker. Someone has to tell Fenris. He’s going to have a breakdown.” Vic said as he rose with Anders in his arms.

Josephine suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream. “The bird, the white bird!” she cried, pointing.

As people glanced up, bewildered, a white crow swooped in lazy circles high up near the vaulting ceiling. As they stared at it, it swooped down to land upon the back of Anders’ chair. It stared back at them and shrieked at them; “Dead! Dead! Dead!” Then it took off in a whirr of feathers, beating its wings as it soared up and then dove out of a high-up window.

Zevran had stared at the bird in abject horror at its cries; his eyes followed it as it flew away. “His spirit... his spirit is gone,” he breathed. Then his eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor.

“Cullen, get Zevran please, I can’t manage him too right now.” Vic said dully as he looked to Leliana for guidance. He was too numb to do anything but follow someone else’s lead.

Leliana glanced around and gestured to one of her templars, who tugged off his helmet and came forward as she turned to Invictus.

“Grand Enchanter Anders may lay in rest in my private chapel,” she said, tears running down her cheeks, her chest heaving slightly as she fought to keep her own grief under control. “He will be safe there until he is laid to rest, with all the due ceremony owing to a Grand Enchanter.”

“Brother?” said the templar, startled; as Invictus turned, he stared into Carver’s face. The Knight Commander grabbed at Anders with one hand and Invictus’ shoulder with the other as the elder Hawke staggered slightly. “Easy, brother, I’ve got you,” said Carver.

“They took him away from us, all that we’ve survived and he’s gone.” Vic said hollowly.

Carver swallowed hard. “I’ll keep him safe, Vic,” he said gently. “I promise. I’ll look after him. I’ll guard him with my life. Zevran needs you now, and so will Fenris.”

“Take care of him, and ….I’ll get Fenris. If I don’t collapse first.” Vic said as he gave Anders over to his sibling.

Carver took Anders carefully into his arms and nodded to his brother. The crowd of people parted as Leliana walked forward, leading the way slowly from the Council chamber, Carver following as an honour guard of Templars walked beside and behind him.

Josie was weeping openly as they passed; Arden could only stare with wide, disbelieving eyes as the body of Anders was borne slowly from the chamber. Beside him, Calpernia stood with a face like stone as she watched them go; as the group drew level with her, she crossed her arms over her chest and bowed low, not straightening until Carver had walked past. 

Dorian swiped at his eyes, not caring that his kohl was smearing across his face. “Dammit, it’s not _fair_ ,” he said plaintively.

“Someone get Aeolus, we need to tell Fen, I need my...I need him.” Vic said before he started to sway as if he too was going to faint.

“Easy, man,” said Cullen as he steadied him. “I’ll carry Zevran. You just head to your rooms - I’ll bring him, OK? Whatever you need.”

“I...I need Fenris, I need this to be a terrible nightmare. I need it to be a lie.” Vic said before he pulled away from Cullen.

Arden was suddenly there at his side, a hand at his elbow to steady him as Cullen knelt to gather up Zevran gently into his arms.

“Invictus, let’s get you back to the suite, then I’ll find Aeolus, alright?” he said softly.

“No...I can’t look at you, get away from me!” Invictus snarled before he pulled away and headed for their suite. Arden staggered away, catching himself before he could fall. He lowered his head and tugged his hood further forward over his face as he drew a slow, shaking breath, then tucked his hands inside the sleeves of his robes and followed slowly behind Cullen. He followed as far as the guest wing, then headed off to find Aeolus; as he pounded on the door of the room the elf and Isabela had been given, he wiped ineffectually at the tears running down his own cheeks and prayed that Fenris’ brother was still there.

Isabela opened the door and stared at him in startlement. “Arden! What on earth’s wrong, sweet thing?”

“Anders - an assassin... Maker, this - he -” He couldn’t get the words out as his throat tightened.

“Oh shit,” said Isabela. 

***

Fenris leaned back in his chair and stretched slowly. Pin and Callus had left only a short while ago; he planned to visit with Hal that evening, after speaking to Anders after the council session. He glanced at the afternoon light through the window; it was late afternoon in Skyhold, which meant hopefully it wouldn’t be long to wait - maybe a couple of hours, he guessed.

He rose from his chair and reached for a book he’d been meaning to read, then glanced down in surprise as he felt his ring vibrate. Evidently the Council had finished earlier than expected. He smiled as he lifted his hand and swiped his thumb over the ring to open the connection.

“It’s a bit earlier than I expected love, but happy to talk now if you’re free.” Fenris said with a grin. “I’m alone this time, so you can say what you please.”

“It’s... it’s not Anders,” said Aeolus quietly. He sounded shaken. “It’s... it’s _about_ Anders.” Somewhere in the background, Fenris could hear a woman crying.

“Brother...what is it? Who is that crying?” Fenris asked as he rose and started to get his things. 

“It’s Isabela. We’re - we’re here with Invictus and Zevran. Zevran is....” Aeolus sighed. “I think I’d better let Invictus tell you. Assuming he’s capable of speaking.”

“What is it?” Fenris asked shakily. His mind racing to the worst possible thing that could have happened. “Do...do I need to return?”

“Yes,” said Aeolus shakily. “Yes, Fenris, you do. Invictus - Dumat. He’s no more capable of speech than Zevran.” There was a pause, then Aeolus’ voice sounded from further away. “Vic, can I - do you want me to tell him?” There was a further pause, and then Fenris heard his brother very softly whispering to Dumat to strengthen him and not let him falter. “Fenris?”

“Tell me already, this is driving me mad Aeolus! What has happened to Anders?” Fenris screamed.

“I’m sorry, Leto,” said Aeolus softly. “Anders is... is dead.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain, suffering, loss and eluvians. It's in a day's work for our company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tissues might be good for this chapter.

Arden slumped into the tub and stared at the swirls of rinsed-out dye as they spread out into the water. He combed his fingers through the white streak, and frowned faintly through his tears; there seemed to be so much of it now. His eyesight was blurring; he couldn’t see straight.

He reached for the shears, and let himself cry.

***

Fenris sat next to Invictus, eyes glazed as his brother tried to get him to take a drink, something but he simply let his hand drop whenever they tried to give him something. His eyes were red from crying and he had screamed himself hoarse upon arriving.

Aeolus glanced up at Meneris and Dorian in weary resignation. “He - it’s no good. He’s... gone, right now. Too far in pain. Like them.”

“Zevran is the same,” said Isabela quietly. “He’s just curled up in a ball in the other bedroom, hugging a pillow. I don’t think he has any tears left. I haven’t seen him like that since - since the night he first heard Solona had died.”

Invictus was marginally better; he held Fenris’ hand and spoke when asked a question but didn’t seem far off from his husband. He lifted his eyes dully when the door leading to the bathing chamber opened and a figure stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him then leaning against it for a moment. The blond hair was shorn to barely shoulder length, and over half of it was white. It wasn’t Anders. None of them were Anders. It would never be Anders again. He was gone. Dead. Nothing mattered any more.

Arden opened his eyes and glanced around; he saw Invictus’ eyes pass over him and he froze, but then Invictus closed his eyes, and Arden drew a breath. He turned to head to the small room he’d shared with Hal but now had to himself.

Fenris didn’t move, he simply closed his eyes and leaned against Invictus, tears falling silently as he grieved.

“Arden?” said Isabela quietly. Arden halted, glancing at her then back at Fenris and Invictus warily.

Fenris looked up, saw Arden then looked down again before he started sobbing again, the silent crying done with seeing the other mage.

Arden closed his eyes for a moment with a wince of pain before he shook his head and glanced back at her. “They don’t want to see me, Bela. Not now. I’m too much like him.” He ran a hand through his damp hair and grimaced. “I’m the last person they want to see right now.”

“Mythal take me,” Fenris rasped as he looked at Arden. He rose and made his way out of the room towards where he hoped Zevran was.

Zevran was curled up in the middle of the bed that, until that morning, he’d shared with Anders. A pillow was clutched in his arms, the Antivan’s face buried in it. He didn’t move as the door opened; he lay motionless.

Fenris crawled into bed facing Zevran, pulled him into his arms and said nothing to the other elf. He had no more words.

As he did so, a faint scent hit him: _Anders_. The pillow smelled of him.

“Zev...Zev..” Fenris whimpered before he buried his face against the pillow to hold on to the last of their love, their carissimi.

Zevran pulled his face from the pillow and blinked drowsily, his eyes glazed. “Gone,” he said dully. “They all leave me, in the end.” He closed his eyes.

“I failed, I failed...I should have been here with you. I am here Zevran, let me hold you please,” Fenris begged.

“I was there, and yet I failed. I could not reach him in time. I saw the knife, but the assassin was gone before I could even move.” Zevran’s eyes stared into space, unfocused. “Hawke’s hand was upon Anders’ shoulder. Even he could not stop it. Anders died in his arms.” He closed his eyes again. “Should I envy him, that he held our love as he took his last breath? I envy Anders more. He is gone, and yet I still draw breath. I would it were the other way around.” He pressed his face against the pillow and began to weep - a tired, hopeless sound. 

“I envy him, the pain that struck me upon Aeolus’ words was worse even than being branded. Please let me hold you while I may, I need you.”

“ _Carissimi,_ ” whispered Zevran; and Fenris didn’t know who he was begging for.

“We will find the one who did this and I will make them sorry they were born. For now, let me hold you my heart, please. I...need you and Vic.” Fenris curled closer to Zevran and wept.

“How can I be your heart when I swear I cannot have one of my own left any longer?” murmured Zevran brokenly. “It is gone. He took it with him - a white bird, winging far away where I cannot follow.” He shook his head. “They all pecked pieces of my soul away - each death, a little more. How can there be anything of Zevran left?”

“Same as there is little of me left Zev. I need you and Invictus. Else I will die of grief,” Fenris said.

“Can one die of such a thing?” the Antivan murmured softly. “If I could pray to any god, maybe I would ask for that. But what god or goddess would listen to Zevran Arainai?”

“Mythal perhaps? I would ask her to bring me to her side sooner than later, for all that I am capable of feeling right now,” Fenris said.

“No,” Zevran denied, shaking his head. “I was never Her favoured, and I have done nothing to earn Her anger. I am too small for her notice.” His eyes suddenly snapped open. “But - I could - I can go. I can join him. I have -” 

“Not until we say our goodbyes, and ...if you go, you must take us with you. I cannot bear it if you were to follow Anders and leave me here.” Fenris’ voice hitched and he hugged Zevran closer.

Zevran fought against him for a moment, then went limp as he surrendered and closed his eyes. “Then... I will stay, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. 

Fenris’ reply was stopped by the door opening and Invictus joining them. The mage said nothing, he simply pulled off his clothes and crawled onto the bed behind Fenris, arms going around the elf as he let himself cry again. Zevran curled up and pressed his face into the pillow once more, almost as if he could smother himself with the scent of their dead husband.

There was the sound of voices from the room beyond, but the three men paid them no heed - not even when Arden’s voice was raised in sudden anger. 

“They’ve found _what??_ ”

The door was abruptly wrenched open. “Zevran. Zevran Arainai. If you would have vengeance on the one who killed Anders, lift your head now and tell me if you recognise this blade,” said the blond mage as he glared at the elf and brandished a blade in his hand.

Zevran’s eyes snapped open and he sat up slowly, turning his head to stare at Arden. His face was blank, like a mask. He crawled off the bed then rose slowly and walked towards the other man, one hand rising of its own volition.

Arden placed the knife in Zevran’s hand as he backed away slowly, and the golden eyes glanced down.

“Where did you get this blade?” The elf’s voice shook. “Whose blood is this?”

“It was taken from - from Anders’ heart,” said Arden quietly.

Zevran threw back and gave such a scream of fury and anger as Fenris and Invictus had never heard before. 

Fenris jumped from the bed in fright, unsure what to do for Zevran, and afraid to approach him.

Zevran gave another howl of fury as he lifted the knife with a hand that shook. “I will not rest until I have used this blade to carve out the Bull’s _heart!!_ ” he screamed.

“Bull... _he_ did this? Excuse me, I’ve got someone to kill.” Fenris turned and rose, intending to make straight for the Eluvian he’d found.

Zevran grabbed his arm. “Not without me,” he snarled. “You were not there as he died. I heard his voice. I must be there as the Bull breathes his last!” He brandished the knife, and with a shock Fenris recognised it as the knife Zevran had found in Fenris’ room, the night Hal was taken.

“Then get your armor and blades, Bull will breathe his last before we bid our love goodbye. I’ll make sure he suffers for all he has done to us,” Fenris said with a cruel smile.

Zevran released Fenris’ arm, and swiped his hand down the flat of the blade until his hand was covered in Anders’ blood. He smeared it across his face. “Let this be the last thing he sees,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Let him see the blood of the man he has killed. Anders was worth a hundred Bulls.” His flat golden gaze turned to Invictus. “ _Mi amore_. Are you with us? Shall we make such a hunt as the Qunari will tell of with dread for a hundred years hence?”

“Yes, we will make him pay and we will not rest until he’s nothing but a memory,” Vic said with a snarl.

Meneris stepped back as they exited the room, unwilling to come between them and their vengeance.

Fenris’ gaze was dark, calculating as he made his way to the armor stand and began to pull on the set he’d brought in case of trouble. He’d hoped not to need it but he had someone to kill and it wasn’t going to be easy. 

Invictus hadn’t brought his Champion armor, but a set made after taking the mantle of First Enchanter. He too readied himself in silence, eager to make their former companion pay.

Zevran pulled his armour on in silence, a grim look upon his face. The smear of dark blood across his face lent his visage a terrifying aspect as he tugged the leather cuirass on, then slid his arms into the jointed plate armour.

Arden shared a glance with Isabela as he backed away to stand beside her, feeling strangely naked and vulnerable in his dark robe. He brushed away an errant strand of white hair as he watched the three men arm and prepare themselves in silence.

Dorian stirred, glancing to Cullen, who had brought the blade, then to Meneris before he took a step forward.

Fenris glared at the magister, unsure what he could want. “Yes?”

“I’ll go with you, _amicus_ ,” Dorian said quietly. “Whatever aid I can give you, it’s yours.”

“I’m going too,” said Cullen firmly, in the tone of one who would not be dissuaded. “I swore I would protect Anders, and I failed. But I can at least help you avenge him. My sword is at your service, gentlemen.”

“As you wish, the killing blow is mine unless Invictus wishes that honor? Zevran will make him sing for us and no one will interfere or they will join Bull as he suffers.” Fenris said as he pulled his gauntlets on, a flicker of anguish as the glint of their rings was covered in dark leather. 

“I will not fight you for it, either of you as long as I get in my hits. He’s hurt you both and I won’t take your vengeance. He’ll be sorry enough after I’ve had my turn.” Vic said.

Zevran’s only answer was a flash of white teeth as he grinned ferally. He lifted the bloodied dagger to his lips then slowly licked from it every trace of Anders’ blood, then slid the knife into his belt and patted it before he turned away.

Arden watched, horrified but unable to look away until the Antivan had turned and bent to don his boots; he shook himself, then glanced to Fenris. “Who should break the news to Hal and Ellowynne? Someone should tell Pin... she was his apprentice. She should inherit his... his staff.”

“I will go and tell Pin and Callus,” said Aeolus flatly. “But you should come and break the news to Hal and Ellowynne. I do not know the child, and Hal is your lover. The news should come from you.”

Hal nodded, then glanced to Fenris and Invictus.

Fenris had tugged Zevran to him to kiss him, tasting the tang of Anders’ blood still on his tongue as he held the shorter elf for a moment, then pulled back with a feral grin of his own. “Come, there is work to be done.”

“Inquisitor,” said Cullen as he drew his sword and saluted. “Do I do this with the sanction of the Inquisition? If not, then I request to be relieved of the post of Commander.”

“You have not just the sanction, but the blade of the Inquisitor at your side Cullen. We will not let this murder go unavenged and I will gladly say we backed any reaction to it, including death upon the murderers at your hands. I would go if you allow it.” Meneris glanced to the two elves, then to Invictus, unsure if he would be a help or a hindrance.

“ _Amatus_?” exclaimed Dorian in surprise. “You would come with us?”

“The blade of the Inquisitor is welcome,” growled Zevran, his Antivan accent thick as he spoke. “We will need blades to slaughter Qunari like the cattle they are, after all.”

“I need no blade, when I can slay them with fire.” Fenris smiled at them, no humor in his gaze as he sheathed his sword and went to the dresser, seeking one of the leather ties Anders always used. He pulled his hair back with it and finally turned to them, ready for battle.

Zevran nodded in approval, then lifted a hand to bid them wait. He disappeared into Anders’ room, emerging a moment later with the sash belt from one of Anders’ robes. He held it out to Invictus. “I wear his blood, Fenris his hair tie. You should wear this token of him.”

Invictus nodded and wrapped it around his arm, the way Anders kept bandages wrapped around the top of his boots, letting Zevran finish the knot so it wouldn’t slip off. “We do this, and we send...we send him off.” He leaned in to kiss the shorter elf for a moment, his tears flowing once more though they were from anger more than grief. “To battle.” He could taste the metallic tang of Anders’ blood still upon his tongue as he spoke.

“To slaughter,” vowed Zevran as he drew his long, curved fighting knives. He nodded to Fenris to lead the way to the Eluvian.

“I will not ask the Maker to have mercy on the Bull’s soul,” Arden whispered to Isabela as they watched the men file from the room.

“No, sweet thing,” she replied softly. “But if you’ve a mind for prayer, perhaps you should pray for theirs.”

Fenris was grim as he headed straight for the eluvian, his mind only on getting in, finding Bull and if there was a chance, taking out the Qunari that had snapped his leg as a bonus. Beside him, Zevran’s face was a nightmarish mask, his face blank as his eyes glittered dangerously. The Antivan had fallen silent.

His silence seemed to affect them all; it seemed there were no words to be said. Cullen marched beside Meneris and Dorian, the three men walking behind the three husbands. The Commander’s expression was one of grim determination as he loosened his sword in its sheath.

Fenris found the mirror and tugged the tarp away as it had offended him. He lit his brands before trailing his fingers over the dull glass, his mind focused on the place it had taken him to before he held a hand out to Zevran and readied himself. his fingers sank through the surface of the glass, and then he was moving forwards, feeling the now-familiar ripple as he passed through the Eluvian.

This time, he was prepared; he didn’t tumble down but leapt, his boots striking the ground firmly. Zevran landed lightly beside him then released his hand as he moved forward to scout ahead.

There was a dull grunt as Invictus landed heavily beside Fenris; they moved forward as a clattering of armour indicated Cullen had landed heavily, Meneris and Dorian just behind him.

“Should I change and scout ahead?” Fenris asked as he looked around, unsure which way would lead to their objective.

Zevran dropped to a crouch up ahead, studying the ground intently before beckoning to them. As they jogged up to see what he’d spotted, they saw the grass had been trampled by many booted feet - large feet. He nodded to the path ahead, then rose and followed the trail.

“Is he going to remain silent?” murmured Dorian to Meneris. “It’s... unnerving.”

“As a dragon, you mean?” asked Cullen. “Do you think you can do it high enough that they won’t notice you? I’m... not familiar with the Fade,” he confessed, his face looking a little pale and clammy. “Do - do dragons fly in the Fade?”

“If someone dreams of one,” Dorian shrugged. “I saw a demon once that had taken the form of a dragon. Quite terrifying, actually. Not a nightmare I’d really like to revisit.” He shuddered, then glanced to Fenris. “It wasn’t a white dragon, before you ask.”

“I don’t think my skills are needed right now, let’s keep up.” Fenris said quietly as he fell in behind Invictus.

“I don’t know if I want him to speak with how he’s looking and probably feeling right now. Be glad he’s on our side.” Meneris said as they traveled.

Zevran ran in a low crouch, eyes flicking towards the ground then up ahead as he led them on, following the trail that the Qunari had left until he paused by a group of rocks above a stone basin. Cullen glanced around.

“This is where we waited for Isabela and Aeolus when we came to rescue you,” Cullen remarked to Fenris in a low voice. “The Qunari were camped just below us.”

Zevran stood up and stared down into the basin, then dropped down onto the stony path and headed down without glancing back to see if they were following.

“Maker, man, don’t go by -” Cullen’s voice faltered as he sprang after the elf then checked himself as he stared down into the basin. “They’ve gone. All the Qunari that were here before - they’ve all gone.” He glanced back to Invictus.

“Where could they have gone?” Invictus asked before a scream of rage made him flinch. He turned, unsurprised that it came from Fenris and not the Antivan elf.

“Easy, _amicus_ ,” said Dorian, sounding decidedly ill at ease himself. “Let’s follow Zevran - if anyone can track them, it is he.” He stared at Fenris, tensing himself, uncertain if he were about to get the furious elf’s fist in his chest.

Fenris turned on his friend, any nicety gone with his hurt and anger. “Don’t you dare...don’t you say a word Pavus.”

Dorian lifted his hands, paling. “Fenris,” he said softly. “We are all your friends here. Trust to Zevran’s abilities. We _will_ find them. You know this. Save your wrath for those who deserve it, hmm?” He blinked, feeling a bead of sweat slowly roll down his temple, never once taking his eyes off the other man.

To his credit, Fenris didn’t strike at Dorian much as he wanted to lash out at anyone, anything so they hurt as much as he was. Instead he dashed at the tears he couldn’t stop and turned to follow Zevran, each step paining him.

Invictus sighed and followed behind, glad things had not gone sideways before they got a chance to enact their vengeance on those who they hunted rather than on each other.

Cullen paused by Dorian as the Tevinter magister ran a hand slowly down his face and swallowed hard. “Pavus, I’m sure I’ve said this before - but you are either the bravest man I know, or else the most foolish. I really can’t decide which.”

“Right now? Neither can I,” murmured Dorian. “Come on. We’d best not lose sight of them.” He headed on, following after Invictus. 

Cullen sighed, glancing to Meneris as they headed after the others.

Zevran led them on, the trail passing over rocky ground. They couldn’t tell what signs he was following, but the Antivan kept on doggedly, his eyes on the ground. They followed him on, trusting to the elf’s skills.

As they reached the crest of a rocky hill, Dorian suddenly grasped Meneris’ arm as he lifted his other hand to shade his eyes, staring up into the green sky as he squinted at something high up - a paler speck against the dark, distant shadowy silhouette of the Black City that hung motionless in the sky, ever-present and looming over all.

Cullen glanced up, even as Zevran came to a halt and lifted his gaze to the sky. “My word,” the Commander said, wonderingly. “It’s a bird. A... a white bird. Is - is that a crow?”

“Your eyes are sharper than mine, Commander; it’s still a pale blur to me,” confessed Dorian as he strained his eyes.

Fenris came to stand beside Zevran as they stared upwards at the pale object that swooped slowly down towards them. “A crow,” he said softly. “A white crow. The one we saw, do you think?”

Zevran merely nodded. Fenris glanced to him. “Is it a spirit? Did it come as a harbinger? Foretelling his death?”

The Antivan nodded more slowly, then sheathed the blade in his left hand before lifting his arm. The white crow fluttered down to land upon Zevran’s forearm. He lowered his arm slightly until he could look the crow in the eyes.

The crow shifted slightly, ducking its head as it spread its wings, then it eyed Zevran with a curious look in its alien eyes, tilting its head as it stared at him. Fenris could have sworn he saw some kind of intelligence behind its eyes.

“Are you a spirit?” he asked slowly. “Come to guide us?”

The crow turned its head, bobbing slightly upon Zevran’s wrist - almost as though nodding.

“Lead us, then,” said Fenris.

The bird glanced back at Zevran, who merely nodded to it. It turned then spread its wings, launching itself from his arm as it glided away then landed upon the path, glancing back to see if they followed before taking to the air once more.

Zevran followed without looking back, and the others followed after.

***

Aeolus and Arden hurried through the halls of Skyhold, ignoring the startled exclamations their passing caused.

“Where will we find my niece and nephew?” asked Aeolus. “I am unfamiliar with the layout of Skyhold.”

“I’ll lead you to their rooms,” replied Arden as he glanced through a window at the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun. “Pin’s classes should be over, and hopefully Callus won’t be running around with messages. At the least, Pin may well know where he is.”

“And Hal?” asked Aeolus, glancing at him as they strode swiftly, the elf keeping pace with the taller man easily.

“Leave him to me,” replied Arden, though a grim expression settled over his face. “There’s also the matter of breaking the news to Anders’ double, though Maker knows how much of it he’ll understand. Less than Ellowynne, I’ll wager.”

Aeolus came to a halt and caught Arden by the arm; the mage glanced back, startled, as he shook a lock of white hair out of his eyes.

“Arden, Anders’ daughter. Do you... would you like me to come with you? It will not be easy breaking the news to a child.”

Arden’s expression turned bleak. “I know,” he replied quietly. “I’ve... had practice. Who do you think it was that broke the news to my brother and sister when our father died? Beth... she and Carver, they... weren’t much older than Ellowynne.”

Aeolus’ expression softened. “I did not know. I am sorry.”

Arden shrugged. “No reason why you should have known,” he answered. “I doubt Invictus would have mentioned it, and things might not have panned out that way for him anyway.” He turned and nodded at a set of stairs leading up. “There’s a hall up there; Pin’s room is the fourth on the left. It’s directly above Anders’ old rooms.”

“Thank you, Arden,” said Aeolus gravely. The mage smiled wanly. 

“Good luck, Aeolus,” he replied. 

“You too, Blondie,” the elf answered.

Arden tried to smile at the nickname, but a sob escaped his lips before he turned away.

Aeolus sighed, then headed up the stairs. He counted the doors until he stood outside the fourth one. He raised his hand, then after a moment’s hesitation, knocked.

***

It was the sound of his sister’s scream that brought Callus running to her door. Not bothering to knock, he forced it open and ran in, just as she screamed again - a heartwrenching, wailing cry of loss and grief as she collapsed into the arms of their uncle, who held her gently as she began sobbing.

“What happened? Why is she...no, no. Please tell me it’s not papa?” Callus said as he approached.

Aeolus glanced up, then shook his head. “No; believe me - I would not be much better than she if it were,” he answered. “No, it is Anders.”

“He’s dead! Cal, he’s _dead!_ ” Pin sobbed. “Oh, it’s not fair, it’s not fair! Hasn’t he suffered enough? He nearly died already!”

“What? Father just spoke with him yesterday, how could this have happened?” Callus asked as he went to the cabinet to get a half glass of wine for his sister and for himself. 

“He spoke with him this morning, perhaps half an hour before noon,” Aeolus corrected him. “They spoke through my ring.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Pin, her face white. “Then... that was the last time I heard his voice... Dumat, no, how could he be dead? We heard his voice! He was _alive!_ ”

“An assassin at the Council,” replied Aeolus heavily as he helped Pin over to a chair. “Anders stood up to protect the Divine, and the assassin struck him through the heart. He died in the First Enchanter’s arms.” His eyes were sad as he regarded the young mage. “Arden told me that he did not suffer long. It was... very swift.”

She stared at him, aghast, then crumpled in the chair, weeping.

“Father...how is he?” Callus asked as he nudged his sister to take the drink, hopeful she’d take it. She accepted the glass without looking, sipping slowly as she stared at Aeolus.

“About as well as you might expect,” sighed Aeolus as he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “At first he was near-catatonic, as was Invictus. Zevran... well.” He shrugged. “Zevran was just lying curled up upon the bed in their room; Isabela couldn’t rouse him. Then your father and Invictus went to join him; they... found Arden’s presence upsetting. He resembles Anders greatly, even with the white hair.” He sighed, running his hand through his own white streak without thinking.

“Cullen arrived shortly after that, with the knife that was used to kill Anders. It was... still wet with his blood. Arden and he seemed to recognise it, as did the Inquisitor. Arden took the blade and showed it to Zevran, and it stirred them all into a terrible fury.” He glanced to Callus. “Your father and the others have gone through the Eluvian. They swear they will hunt and slay the Bull in vengeance.”

“The - the Bull?” said Pin, her words slurring slightly; she put a hand to her head. “Ohhh... I feel dizzy. The room is spinning.”

“Come sister, I fear the news is a bit much for you. I’ll stay and watch over you while you rest. Then I take it we will go back to Orlais for his funeral?” Callus asked as he scooped Pin up and set her on the bed, tugging the top of her robe open slightly and fluffing her pillow.

“Cal... I feel so strange,” she murmured, her eyes glazed over. “So strange....”

“There is to be a full state funeral for Anders, as befits the Grand Enchanter,” replied Aeolus. “His body lies in state in the Divine’s personal chapel within the Royal Palace in Val Royeaux. His body will not be committed to rest until Zevran, your father and Invictus return. The Exalted Council is on indefinite hiatus until after the funeral.”

“It’s shock sister, and maybe the wine. I merely meant to calm you not add to your upset. Sleep a while and we can make plans to go to Val Royeaux. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Callus said gently.

“Wynne,” Pin slurred faintly. “Wynne will be... will be....” Her eyes slid closed and she dropped into a deep sleep.

“Arden is breaking the news to Anders’ daughter,” said Aeolus quietly. “I do not envy him the task. It was hard enough to tell your sister.”

“I know, she’s going to fall apart when the funeral does happen. I will stay with her, do you need to check on Arden and Ellowynne? Perhaps if she and Pin can be together it will help?” Callus asked as he brushed some curls off his sister’s face. “She loved Anders, in that schoolgirl way but she’s still going to fall apart.”

“I had wondered,” nodded Aeolus. “Love at your age can feel very overwhelming, and it is easy to mistake a girlish crush for something deeper, I understand - or so Isabela has told me. No doubt to Pin it feels very real and devastating, and her grief is no less the real for it. She has lost someone who meant a great deal to her.” He regarded the sleeping girl sadly.

After a moment, he straightened, pushing himself away from the wall. “Arden has gone to find Hal; I believe he planned to go and speak to Anders’ daughter with his assistance afterwards. Likely Hal will think to suggest Ellowynne and Pin might take comfort with each other. It may be that you should all return to Val Royeaux with Arden and I. I think Fenris would take great comfort in your presence when he returns.”

“Knowing how prone he can be to emotional swings, I don’t know what will help, aside from this not being real. He hadn’t had a whole day uncle, not even one day to rest after being back here. A man can only take so much until he breaks. We were slaves, we know this too well and I fear losing Anders will push him over that edge.” Callus took a sip of his own drink, careful to keep Pin’s away from both of them.

Aeolus glanced at Pin’s glass. “What did you give her?” he asked quietly.

“Simple sleep powder, it will keep her out for a few hours and when she comes around hopefully she’ll be a bit calmer. Zevran taught me some new tricks.” Callus said quietly. Aeolus nodded.

“A wise idea,” he agreed. “Best she sleep deeply; it may blunt the edge of her grief a little.”

“I’m used to being the one to keep her steady, it’s the least I can do for her.” Callus glanced up to his uncle, unsure of his words but still he carried on. 

“What of Viscount Tethras, Guard Captain Vallen? Father has spoken of them as friends, who shall tell them?” Cal asked.

Aeolus blinked. “I... had forgotten about Varric,” he confessed slowly. He bowed his head for a moment, then wiped his hand over his face tiredly. “I should go. I knew him, back when they all lived in Kirkwall - before the destruction of the Chantry there. The news should come from me, I think. I can take Varric directly to Val Royeaux before I return for you all - or Arden could create a portal to take you to your father.” He lifted his head, looking a little uncertain.

“Let’s wait until Arden has let Ellowynne and Hal know. I dare say all this jumping around isn’t pleasant for you? Father told us of how he burned and ached when he first got his markings. Rest for now, and we can travel together via portal before you go to Varric?” Callus offered.

“It does burn,” Aeolus confessed absently, a distant look in his eyes. “It always has; half my lyrium was ripped from my skin to brand your father. It is harder for me to leap as he does, though I showed him how to do it at will. Anders could take the pain away, but....” He covered his face with a hand. “Dumat. It - I just realised how much I, too, will miss him. He did so much for me. He... he took me away from Varania, healed me. He was so gentle - always gentle; his magic never hurt and I -” He slowly slid down until he was sitting hunched upon the floor, his back to the wall as he wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face as his shoulders began to shake.

“Uncle, what do you need?” Callus slipped an arm around Aeolus and held him as he grieved.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” Aeolus gasped as he lifted his head slightly. “It - it just suddenly hit me. I hadn’t had a chance to just - just sit and think, and then - I’m sorry, Callus, just give me a moment.” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand as he sniffed, visibly fighting to bring his grief under control.

“It’s alright, I’m sure I’ll be the same once I really get a chance to think on it. He was so nice to Pin and to me, though I was an ass a lot of times.” Cal said.

“I’m sure he would have forgiven you,” Aeolus tried to smile.

“I know, he’s… he was a good man uncle.” Callus said as he rose to refill his drink and offer one to Aeolus that wasn’t drugged. “To Anders.”

“To Anders,” echoed Aeolus, a slight hitch in his voice, before he closed his eyes and steadily downed the glass.

As Callus stared at him, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. He opened it to find Arden waiting, Hal standing just behind as he held Ellowynne’s hand; all three were red-eyed. The moment Ellowynne spotted Callus, she burst into fresh tears.

“Come here Wynne, let’s get you some tea and Hal if you can get her settled with Pin?” Cal said as he suddenly had his hands full with the sobbing child.

“Cal, Daddy’s dead!” Ellowynne sobbed as she buried her face against his shirt. “I want my Daddy!”

Hal made a faint choking noise as he came forward. “I know, Imp,” he said softly. “We all do.”

“The news will be all over Skyhold soon,” Arden said wearily as he entered and closed the door behind him; he leaned his back against it with a faint groan. “Marian was with Wynne and was there to hear the whole thing. I’m sure she’s probably told the whole College by now.”

A bell started tolling, and Hal shuddered visibly. “No... no, I...” He pressed his hands over his ears to block out the slow, doleful sound.

“That’s it then, the bells tolling for him. Maker, soon there will be a bunch of visitors or others looking for papa and the others. Why don’t you all stay here and if callers come, I’ll see them?” Callus offered. 

“I- I want Uncle Fenris, and Un-Uncle Zev-Zev-Zevran!” sobbed Ellowynne. “I want my Uncle Vic. Daddy!”

“Oh Imp, sweet Imp,” murmured Hal as he dropped to his knees and reached for the young girl. She flung her arms around him, sobbing bitterly as she released Callus. Hal buried his face in her hair, his own shoulders shaking; they could hear his voice, muffled, as he murmured to her softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Imp.”

Cal sniffed and wiped away tears as he watched Ellowynne’s grief-stricken face, and heard Hal’s sobbing. “Dumat, I need _my_ papa.” 

Arden pushed away from the door and wandered over to the window. He stared out, his gave drawn to the courtyard below. People were streaming out from doors all over Skyhold, gathering together as they wondered what the bell meant; and then it started. Cries and wails as the news spread, shouts and questions. The Chantry bell began to ring in counterpoint to the Keep bell; as the mage watched, Chantry sisters began to stream out into the courtyard. He could pick out Mother Giselle at their head from her high red hat; distantly he could hear they were singing, though the words didn’t reach him. The tune was familiar however; an old Chantry hymn. He blinked back his own tears, and wondered if there truly were a Maker who could hear.

He could see healers now, streaming out from the infirmary; their white cloaks and grey robes stood out. Of course, it would hit them hard. He pressed his forehead against the glass pane, and closed his eyes.

***

Zevran halted and lifted a hand, signalling for the others to do the same as his keen eyes studied the looping flight of the white crow ahead.

Fenris stilled and glanced up at the bird, curbing his instinct to shift and take it out of the skies, at least while it was useful. 

The bird dipped and bobbed in flight; Zevran narrowed his eyes, then headed on down the path, leaping nimbly over fallen boulders that strewed the narrow way.

“This place doesn’t make sense,” muttered Dorian. “We’re in the Fade. Why does this part feel like the Storm Coast? Minus the rain of course. I’m quite glad to forgo that part.”

“As long as I get to snap Bull’s neck and collect his horns as trophies, I’ll walk naked through the Black Spire and kick down the gates to the Black City.” Fenris said as he followed behind his elfen husband. Zevran glanced back as he spoke, the Antivan’s eyes flat and almost empty. The blood across his face had dried into a rust-brown stain; it was flaking a little around his reddened eyes and his mouth.

Fenris pointed up at the white bird then glanced to the other elf. He wasn’t fond of his silence, but he knew he couldn’t get Zevran to speak if he didn’t wish it.

Invictus was quiet, mostly speaking to Meneris and Cullen while Dorian held back if not addressed. He was angry as well but didn’t feel much beyond the need for revenge.

For his part, Dorian felt strange and out of sorts. He’d had a creeping feeling that something was wrong - even for the Fade or the circumstances in which they found themselves there. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched; but try as he might, he couldn’t figure out how or who by. He hung back, eyes drawn to the Black City far in the distance as Fenris mentioned it; he couldn’t repress a shudder.

Fenris followed Zevran, who had his eyes trained on the white crow even as he made his way down the rocky beach. He was glad for the others company and a purpose since it kept his mind off Anders, his body left with Carver as they hunted.

Zevran’s footsteps slowed as the light glinted off something that stood upon the beach. The white crow was perched atop it; as they drew closer, it was clear the object was another Eluvian. Zevran halted, the others doing likewise, as the crow dropped down onto the beach just in front of the mirror.

There was a sudden flash of light, and the crow’s form glowed with brilliant silver light as it grew and shifted, changing, until the light died away. Where the crow had stood, there now stood a man with long white hair, dressed in a long white robe. He turned slowly to stare at them, and they could see that his skin was almost chalk white. The only colour to him was the vivid red sash around his waist and the dark amber eyes that regarded them sadly.

“Anders,” breathed Cullen.

As if the figure had heard, the pale lips curved in a sad smile before the figure turned and stepped through the Eluvian.

With a hoarse, wordless cry, Zevran leapt forward and ran towards the mirror.

Fenris clutched at his chest for a moment, unable to breathe at the sight of Anders’ spirit. “I...it’s too much.” he gasped.

“ _Venhedis_ ,” breathed Dorian. “Is it possible? Have we been following Anders’ spirit all this time? Did he... has he come to us through the Fade to lead us to the one who killed him?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” said Cullen in bewilderment. “There’s nothing in any of the Chantry’s teachings that’s ever prepared me for this. I’m... out of my depth. I don’t know anymore.”

“Someone help me with Fenris before he collapses.” Vic said as he slipped an arm around the Tevinter elf and tried to get him through the mirror.

“Maker, yes,” said Cullen hastily as he shifted forward to help Invictus with the stunned elf. 

“Meneris,” said Dorian softly. “When you were in the Fade at Adamant... you told me you saw something - something that might have been the spirit of the Divine. She spoke to you, you said?”

“Yes but she was stationary for a while, and remained in the form of the Divine until we figured out what was going on. Then she simply shed the look of the Divine, not turned into something else altogether.” Meneris said as he walked behind the others, glad that Fenris didn’t have to be forced through the mirror.

“The Divine had been dead nearly a year by the time you saw her though,” murmured Dorian as they watched Cullen stepping through the Eluvian after the others. “Anders has been dead less than a day. What if the last thing he saw was that white crow? Or... Maker, now it’s getting to me too. What if that crow was his spirit, as Josie and Zevran evidently believed? And what if he’s just... too new to this whole being a spirit business?”

“Let’s not have this discussion where his distraught spouses can overhear? Let’s attend the business at hand and hope that the bird, or his spirit can lead us to his murderers and we can leave this place. I hate the Fade.” Meneris said.

“Vic...I can’t, I can’t take it. My heart is broken, and seeing him again, his spirit, it’s killing me.” Fenris sobbed as they went. Ahead of them, Zevran had halted and was staring at the pale man, who was watching them.

Zevran lifted a hand towards the figure, his movements slow, like one who dreamwalked. The figure lifted a hand slowly, mirroring Zevran’s movement, lifting his hand to briefly touch the elf’s outstretched fingers. They heard Zevran give a low sob; and then the man’s form lit up in bright white light. The shape shrank and then the light faded as the white crow took wing once more, leading them on.

“You can make it love, I know it hurts. Believe me we’re all hurting so much right now but you have to keep going. For Anders, to avenge him. For Ellowynne and for us.” Vic said as he kept hold to Fenris, worried the elf was going to collapse on them.

Dorian glanced at Meneris, then made his way past Cullen to walk beside Fenris and Invictus, moving to support Fenris on the other side.

“You can do this, _amicus_ ,” he said quietly. “For Ellowynne, for Invictus, for Zevran. And for yourself. He - he’s come because he knows you need him. To lead you. You have to keep going, Fenris. He... _he_ needs you too. He needs you to follow and be brave of heart. We’re here for you, _amicus_. Be strong.”

“I’m not strong, anger and desire to kill Bull is all that’s keeping me going. I’m so close to just lying down and giving up, I can’t be strong all the time. I can’t.” Fenris said as he straightened up enough for them to let him walk on his own.

“You can’t give up, _amicus_ ,” pleaded Dorian. “He came to help you. To guide you. He came because he knew you needed him, and... and he still needs you. Fenris. Please.”

“I can only give so much Dorian, let me be weak.” Fenris said before he picked up the pace to catch up with Zevran. 

Dorian made to follow, but Cullen checked him with a hand upon his shoulder. “Let him be, Dorian,” he said gently. “This is very hard on them all. Maker knows, if it were Cass and her spirit came back... I’m not sure I’d have the strength to follow either, though I would want to. And yet... I think I would also be afraid. Afraid I wouldn’t want to come back, even with our child to return to.” He regarded the three men sadly, as Invictus strode forward to join Fenris and Zevran.

“It’s so damned unfair,” muttered Dorian.

“I know, Dorian,” said Cullen sadly as he patted the magister’s shoulder. “I know.”

Fenris caught up and fell in with his elven husband, silent as Zevran remained while they trailed after the bird, and hopefully to those they could enact their rage upon.

Zevran’s eyes were upon the bird as it swooped and dipped; he ran forward then dropped to one knee as the white crow circled overhead. As Fenris glanced down, he saw what had caught the eye of both bird and elf; there was a faint trail of blood, the drops spattered upon the woodland path they were now upon, shaded by the overhanging branches of a forest.

Zevran glanced up to the path ahead, then began to follow swiftly as the white crow glided on ahead. They emerged out onto a high stone path; the rock fell away on either side, and now the blood took the form of rust-coloured splashes on stone.

Meneris glanced at the blood and grimaced at the sight of it. He reached down to see how fresh it was but his marked hand flared bright enough to cast them in a sickly green, while his arm felt like it was on fire. He fell to his knees, panting as he tried to keep from screaming.

“ _Amatus!_ ” cried Dorian as he ran to the Inquisitor’s side, reaching for him then hesitating. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“The Mark, it’s...it’s worse here somehow.” Meneris panted as he clenched his fist closed, trying to get past the pain. 

“Inquisitor?” Invictus asked as he heard Dorian’s cry.

“It shouldn’t be doing this - Corypheus is dead, this shouldn’t be happening!” exclaimed Dorian, a frantic note creeping into his voice. “What can we do?”

“I don’t know, this is beyond my skills.” Invictus said with a glance to the two elves. He waved at them to return, hoping one of them would see him.

Zevran glanced to Fenris, then walked slowly back as the white crow swooped down to perch upon his shoulder, its talons gripping firmly to the leather.

Fenris followed, unsure what to the hold up was. He glanced to Invictus, curious but still unwilling to speak.

Dorian glanced up at them. “It’s his mark - it’s acting up somehow; he needs help - healing, _something!_ ”

Fenris tilted his head at Dorian, glanced at the bird perched on Zevran’s shoulder and sighed. “Even...even if he were here, remember what happened when he probed your Mark with the slightest touch of magic? We are in the Fade, so it is worse here. We should move on and get you out as soon as we can.” 

Dorian’s eyes went to the bird. “Please!” he begged it. “There must be something you can do!”

The crow tilted its head to one side as it stared at him. Then it spread its wings and dropped down to the ground in front of Meneris. Its form glowed and shifted, and then Anders stared down at the stricken elf.

“Let go,” he said softly.

Hearing his voice was too much for Fenris and he slid to the ground, hands on his ears as he curled up and tried to ignore the sound of his beloved, a sound he thought he’d never hear again.

“It hurts because you’re holding on, holding in,” Anders said, his voice still quiet. “You have to let go.”

“Let go?” Meneris panted as he let his fist open, and his gaze fall on the other man’s spirit. “I’m sorry.”

Anders shook his head. “Don’t be. Just let go. Release your hold and let go.”

Meneris nodded and let himself relax, the movement made his mark flare but the pain wasn’t as bad as before. A flash of green light pulsed from the mark and he felt better. “When it...builds...just let go?”

Invictus had crouched by Fenris, his attempts to rouse the elf were ignored, especially when he curled tighter so he wouldn’t have to see or hear their love’s spirit.

Anders turned and stared sadly down at the elf. He glanced at Invictus. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m hurting him. Hurting you all. I never meant to.” A stricken look crossed his pale features. “Forgive me. Forgive me!” 

His body suddenly blazed with white light, and then the white crow launched itself from the ground up and over their heads, soaring up into the sky. Distantly its cry drifted back to them, a forlorn “ _Forgive! Forgive!_ ”

“Fenris, he’s...it’s back as a bird you can come back to us now.” Vic said quietly. He glanced up to Zevran, worried for their husband’s state of mind. Zevran crouched down beside Fenris and wrapped his arms around the white-haired elf with a soft sigh. He pressed a gentle kiss to the white hair, then pressed his forehead against Fenris’ shoulder. He gently kissed the bare skin of Fenris’ upper arm, then mouthed a word silently: _carissimi_.

“It’s too much...I cannot go on.” Fenris whispered.

“Love...you can’t just lie down in the road, you’re not a quitter Fenris. Please, get up and me help you if you need it. We didn’t do all this just to give up half-way there. Would you live with yourself if you let his murderer go free?” Vic asked quietly, his hand brushing dust and dirt from the elf’s hair. 

“Fenris...forgive me, I did not mean to make your pain worse, any of you.” Meneris said, his gaze guilty.

Zevran lifted his head to gaze at Invictus; as the mage stared back, a single tear ran down the Antivan’s face, running through the dried blood until it dripped from his chin, leaving a clear path through the blood but a bloodstained one upon the tan skin of the elf’s face. Zevran blinked, then dropped his gaze.

“ _Amicus_... he didn’t want to hurt you,” said Dorian gently. “Please. Please get up.”

Fenris looked up at Dorian and reluctantly got to his feet, dusted himself off and turned back the way they were going. He didn’t think he could take anything else before he lost himself to the grief that clawed at his heart.

Invictus shook his head at the Inquisitor before he wrapped an arm around Zevran and resumed their path.

Zevran stumbled on, his eyes on the ground. After a little while, he gave Invictus a sad, lopsided smile and then pulled away slightly, reaching up to pat the taller man’s shoulder before walking away, overtaking Fenris then carrying on ahead, his eyes on the trail of blood.

After a moment, the white crow swooped down and hovered over him. Without looking up, Zevran merely tapped his left shoulder. The bird hesitated until he finally glanced up. He nodded to the bird and tapped his shoulder again, and the bird dropped down to land upon it.

Zevran’s gaze returned to the ground and he walked on, alone, the white crow hunched upon his shoulder and its head lowered.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt goes on for Anders' murderer, Arden is still the bearer of bad news.

The trail of blood led to another Eluvian. Zevran reached a hand up to push through, but his fingers met only hard glass. He blinked, held his hand up and frowned at it, then pressed against the glass.

It didn’t yield.

He turned and stared at Fenris and Invictus with an air of bewilderment. 

Fenris lit his brands and touched the glass, unsure if it would work. The glass was smooth and cool beneath his fingers - and failed utterly to yield to his hand.

“I don’t understand,” said Dorian slowly as he and Meneris reached the Eluvian with Cullen. “ _Amicus_ , this is the first Eluvian we’ve encountered where your powers haven’t activated it.”

“I...don’t understand either,” Fenris said as he stepped back from the mirror.

“Let me try,” suggested the magister as he stepped forward. He drew upon his mana, an aura of power manifesting about his fingers as he reached out to the glass. As before, nothing happened. He stepped back with a puzzled frown as he shook his fingers free of the energies gathered at his fingertips. “How odd,” he mused. “Perhaps not all of the Eluvians are active?”

Zevran prowled around the mirror, frowning intently as he studied the ground. He circled it slowly until he reached the front of the Eluvian once more, staring down at the blood trail.

“What now?” Invictus asked tiredly, unsure what they could do with the eluvian unresponsive. He glanced at the bird, and held his hand out. “Is there another one? Don’t change, just lead us there.” 

The crow launched itself from Zevran’s shoulder, gliding to Invictus’ fist; it fanned its wings as it nearly overbalanced before it settled itself and turned to look to the right. Invictus frowned at the bird; it turned its head to look at him and made a soft crooning sound, then turned its head to the right.

He glanced to the right to see what the bird could be pointing at, and spotted the trail of blood that picked up a few feet away, leading down another path. As he turned towards it, the crow crooned again, encouragingly.

“This way, gentlemen,” Vic said as he let the bird hop to his shoulder before he picked up the trail.

“Fascinating,” breathed Dorian under his breath as Zevran followed Invictus along the trail, reaching one hand out towards Fenris to brush his fingers against those of the other elf in mute appeal for his touch. “Even as a bird, his mannerisms are the same - the gentle voice. I swear, the _look_ he gave Invictus just then....”

“I’d noticed,” agreed Cullen quietly. “It’s undoubtedly him. But I don’t understand - why a crow? Is it something to do with Zevran? Or is it Leliana’s white crows?”

“I don’t know, right now I am not inclined to speculate on it. I just hope we don’t need to call upon his spirit again for fear of what it will do to Fenris or Zevran,” Meneris said softly.

If Fenris heard them, he paid them no mind. He slipped his fingers into Zevran’s and kept walking.

As Invictus followed the trail, the white crow crooned to him encouragingly, turning its head to stare at him with dark eyes before turning to stare at the path ahead. It shifted closer to him until he could feel its soft feathers brush against his ear. He glanced at it sidelong, a little nervous at having such a long, sharp-looking beak so close to his face. For a spirit, the bird felt remarkably _real_ \- but then again, they were in the Fade where anything was possible.

The crow crooned encouragingly again, then gently rubbed its head against his cheek affectionately.

Invictus reached up to rub the bird's head, even as he realized what it was. He sniffed and ignored the sting of fresh tears as he walked ahead of them.

The bird rubbed its head against his fingers and chirped very softly.

The trail led to a second Eluvian, not far from the first. There was more blood here, splattered upon the ground at the very foot of the Eluvian, with splashes on the gilt frame itself.

“Fenris, will you try first?” Vic asked as he stepped away, eyes closed as the crow rubbed its face against his. Zevran released Fenris’ fingers then moved to Invictus’ side, resting his head against the taller man’s arm as he lifted a hand to gently trail a finger along the crow’s wing. He sniffed, then pressed his face against Invictus’ arm for a moment.

Vic leaned down to kiss Zevran, gently for just a moment before he pulled back. “I know, hopefully we’ll be done soon and we can all rest.”

Cullen turned his head and stared sharply at Invictus. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that moment Fenris lit his brands and then stepped through the Eluvian.

Zevran drew a slow, shaky breath then lifted his head to look up at Invictus. He nodded his head before he stepped away, giving himself a slight shake as he turned to follow Fenris through the mirror, the mage only a step behind.

“Cullen?” asked Dorian.

“Nothing, I - Nothing.” He shook his head and followed Invictus as Dorian glanced at Meneris, mystified.

Vic followed, with the others behind them, his melancholy broken for a moment as he noticed the green valley they’d entered. So many remnants of the past surrounded them; fallen statues of wolves and qunari as far as he could see.

Meneris smiled briefly, the lush greenery reminding him of home more than anything he’d seen in a while. That sadly brought the memories of his Clan, how they’d been decimated because of his elevation. He took a breath and stepped next to Dorian, subdued by the three men who stood in front of them.

The white crow spread its wings and leapt from Invictus’ shoulder, winging its way on beyond them before swooping to land on the moss-encrusted horn of a Qunari figure. It bent down and pecked at the statue a couple of times, then stared back at them.

“That’s a Tamrassan; one of them cared for me when I was captive. This statue seems to be too well made,” Fenris said as he walked around the statue, and trailed his hand down the horns. 

“So are we on the right trail? Seeking out a Tamrassan for what was done to Anders?” Vic asked.

The crow cried out harshly, then pecked the statue again. There was suddenly a bright flash of light, and then Anders was tumbling from the statue to sprawl at Fenris’ feet. He stared up at the elf, then over at Invictus.

Fenris’ expression crumbled in anguish before he stepped away from the apparition and sunk to his knees. He was at a point of no return and if that thing spoke to him, he wasn’t sure he could keep himself together.

“Help me,” whispered Anders softly.

“I can’t...you’re gone love. I don’t know why you keep changing but, you died in my arms. Why must you haunt us even here?” Invictus said as he knelt and took Anders’ hand, unable to stop himself.

Anders closed his eyes. “Sorry. So sorry. Please....” He opened his eyes and stared at Fenris in anguish. “I need you to help me. I can’t do this alone.”

“Do what? I don’t understand.” Vic said as he held on to Anders, deceived by how real he felt.

Meneris remained still, unsure what he could do for any of them. He finally skirted around to Zevran to see if he could help the Antivan at all. “What do you need?”

Zevran was staring at Anders; he blinked slowly. His lips slowly shaped a word silently: _Him._

“I can’t do this alone,” Anders repeated. “I can lead you to them. I know where they are. But I can’t stop them.”

“We’ll stop them, we’ll avenge you. Just lead us to them, please my heart, let us take care of this so you can rest,” Vic begged as he stared at the visage of their lost love.

“I know, I can’t do that Zevran. What do you need that I can grant?” Meneris asked.

Zevran slowly turned to stare at the Inquisitor. _Help him._ Zevran’s eyes held a hopeless look as he formed the words silently before looking back at Anders as the white figure stared into Invictus’ eyes.

Cullen sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Dorian, I... I think the shock has actually struck Zevran dumb,” he murmured quietly. “I thought at first he was simply refusing to speak, but now... now, I’m not so sure. I think perhaps... he _can’t_ speak.”

“Does it matter?” murmured Dorian as he watched the tableau before them. “Maker, I’m not sure I can bear to watch them - _any_ of them - and yet I can’t look away.”

“I know what you mean,” Cullen nodded. “Andraste’s breath - I wish Fenris would actually _look_ at Anders, and yet - I cannot find it in my to fault him for being unable to.”

“Could you? If it were Cassandra?” asked Dorian darkly.

“.... point taken,” Cullen sighed. “I... really don’t know.”

Fenris had started to rock, slowly as he kept his gaze far off from the spectre of their husband. He knew if he looked or if he heard it continue to speak he’d lose what little composure he had left. As it was, he was close to shifting and taking flight just to escape.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said Anders frantically as he stared at Fenris; he tried to pull away from Invictus.

“Easy, easy… how about you turn back to a birdy and we’ll keep walking. Or if you can’t change back, I walk with you for a while?” Invictus offered, which made Fenris finally turn to stare at them.

“How...how can you walk with his spirit even as it destroys us, me?” he asked quietly.

Anders shook his head, unable to speak for a moment as tears began to run down his cheeks. Finally he found his voice. “I never wanted this! This was never meant to happen! I’m - I’m frightened, and I can’t stop it, any of it! Please, please believe me, I’m so sorry!”

“I want to help but I don’t know how!” Invictus snapped. 

“Invictus, maybe we should try and help while you take care of them.” Meneris offered as he approached them.

“Fenris... I’m sorry,” whimpered Anders. “I... I couldn’t stop him. And now I’m stuck, and - and I’m scared. Please.”

“What do you mean stuck? Why are you tormenting us? Why?” Fenris asked before he reached back for Zevran, unsure where the other elf was.

“I can’t go home,” Anders breathed. There was a bright flash of light, and then Invictus found all he held was a couple of white feathers as the white crow launched itself into the air and swiftly soared away until it was lost from sight.

Zevran ran forward a few paces then made a hoarse, wordless sound of grief, one hand reaching out futilely for the bird before falling limply to his side.

“Zev...please, I need you.” Fenris called out.

“Go to him, we’ll see about setting up a camp, we’ve been on the go for hours and I think everyone could use a break.” Meneris said.

Zevran turned and stumbled towards Fenris, his head drooping with weariness. He dropped to his knees next to the other elf then wrapped his arms around Fenris as he rested his head on the taller elf’s shoulder.

“Ah... Inquisitor?” said Cullen awkwardly. “We, ah... didn’t bring any supplies with us. No food or tents - not even bedrolls.”

Dorian stared at Cullen, then glanced back the way they’d came, then turned to face the way they’d been going. “Officially worst camping trip ever,” he muttered under his breath. SHaking his head, he moved forwards until he could drop down into a crouch beside Fenris.

“ _Amicus,_ ” he said gently. “I think perhaps we could all use some sleep. We’ve been on the go for hours and you must be exhausted.”

The elven warrior nodded and straightened up so he could pick up and Zevran and find a spot to lie down. He settled for a patch of thick grass, holding the smaller elf and dropping off as soon as he’d laid out.

“I’ll hunt, Dorian, once I’m back, can you set up a barrier since we don’t have much else to keep things away.” Vic said tiredly as he looked around for a spot that might yield rabbits or if they were lucky, a ram.

“Not to impune your abilities as a hunter, Hawke,” said Cullen slowly. “But I don’t recall seeing sight or sound of any other living creature apart from us and the bird the entire time we’ve been here.”

“Well what else are we going to do Cullen? I can’t magic up food and it’s something to do besides see them fall apart.” Vic said tiredly. 

Cullen sighed. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Are we still in the Fade? This place seems... I don’t know. There’s something about it that just... feels different. I’m not sure it would be wise for any of us to go alone. What do you think? You’ve been in the Fade before - physically, I mean.”

“It doesn’t seem like the Fade. If one of you wants to go, then come on. I’m not going to sit idly by any more. I need...I need to feel useful.” Vic said.

“Alright,” said Cullen. “I’ll come with you then.”

“I can, at least, provide water,” shrugged Dorian. “As can Invictus. I suggest we all have a good drink - and someone should wake Fenris and Zevran and make sure they drink as well. There’s no telling how long we’ll be here, and it’s best if we don’t get dehydrated.” He glanced at Cullen.

“What are you looking at me for?” asked the Commander, suddenly suspicious.

“You’re the only one of us wearing plate armour, Commander,” replied Dorian. “Meneris here is still in his formal wear, and both Zevran and Fenris are in leather.”

“I don’t get your point, Pavus,” said Cullen slowly, frowning.

“Maker, man, don’t be so thick!” snapped the magister. He rapped a finger smartly against the elbow cup of Cullen’s armour. “We have no cups or bowls - unless you all want to drink very slowly out of your hands, I suggest you start thinking and offer a solution!”

“A sol- Ohhh. Of course!” He started hastily unbuckling the vambraces and plates on his right arm, shrugging out of the steel pieces as quickly as he could. As he passed each piece to Dorian, the mage conjured up ice which he melted with a touch of fire magic, filling the more suitable pieces such as the pauldrons and the elbow guards with fresh, drinkable water.

“Here, Invictus - you first, then go wake Fenris and Zevran,” said Dorian as he passed him a pauldron filled to the brim.

“Thanks” Vic said before he drained his makeshift cup. He handed it back and glanced to his spouses. “Let them sleep for a bit, they just went down.”

Dorian looked dubious, but Cullen nodded. “They’ve hit their limit; I’ve seen it before,” he agreed.

“If you’re certain,” frowned Dorian as he refilled the pauldron then passed it to Meneris.

“As have I but I can’t rest yet. Cullen if you’ll come with me?” asked Invictus.

Cullen nodded, glancing to Meneris and Dorian before turning and following Invictus.

***

The hunt was unsuccessful. The two men had returned a couple of hours later, footsore and weary and at the utmost limit of their endurance. They had thrown themselves down to rest - Invictus with the two sleeping elves, Cullen by himself a little distance away.

In the morning, they awoke to find the white crow had returned. It was sitting atop a bundle wrapped in white cloth, preening its feathers.

Invictus rubbed his eyes as he watched the bird hop up and down, flapping its wings for his attention the moment it noticed he was awake. “I’ll be a nug's uncle.”

The bird hopped down onto the grass then there was a brief flash of light and Anders was sitting there, hunched over and grinning a little self-consciously. Then he shifted back to crow once more as Fenris sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily. The bird watched him, then took hold of a corner of the cloth and tugged it loose.

A bottle of wine, its sides wet with moisture from the cold contents, rolled out onto the grass.

“Where did wine come from?” Fenris asked.

“Our avian friend apparently, and there’s food too.” Vic said tiredly. Zevran was sitting up, blinking in confusion as he looked around. Further away, Dorian’s head had lifted up from where he’d been using Meneris’ chest as a pillow, and he stared over.

“Did someone say wine?” the magister inquired.

“Never mind the wine - what was that about food?” groused Cullen as he rolled over then sat up, groggily.

“Just give me food, and we should move on.” Fenris said as he accepted bread and cold ham from Invictus.

Zevran got to his feet and began looking through the bundles of food. As he pulled open one bundle, steam rose from the mound of meat inside and the aroma of roast boar scented the air.

“Maker. Roast boar? And it’s still hot!” exclaimed Cullen as he moved to join Zevran, who was tasting a morsel of meat. Cullen took a thick juicy slice and bit into it and groaned in pleasure.

The white crow had flown up to sit upon the head of a statue of a wolf; it stared down at them all, then settled itself, tucking its head beneath a wing.

Meneris took a bundle as well and settled next to Dorian, tired but grateful for the meal. He was quiet as he ate, as were the others. Fenris eyed the wine but decided against it, instead he asked Invictus to fill a pauldron with water for him.

“Of course love.” Vic paused just long enough to chill, melt and chill the water again for his husband before digging back into the feast they’d been given.

Dorian was peering at one of the wine bottles. “Meneris... this came from Skyhold,” he said very quietly. “Look. I recognise this mark in the wax. Aggregio Pavali, from your very own wine cellar!”

“What, no. That’s not possible,” Meneris said as he glanced at the label.

“Nor is a veritable feast, including hot roast boar that’s still steaming from the fire,” Dorian pointed out. “We’re eating the impossible. And if you’ll excuse me, I’m damned well going to drink the impossible too - or at least taste it.” He reached for the bottle.

Vic glanced at the bottle then back to his fingers which he licked clean. “Once everyone has taken care of morning needs, we should be on our way. I don’t know where this came from but I’m glad for it. Carry what’s left.”

Fenris shook out Cullen’s pauldron before returning it to him. He scooped the bird into his arms, one finger gently petting it as he paced. The crow stirred, lifting its head to stare around then up at him before it made a sleepy, interrogative chirping sound. Then it tucked its head back under its wing, settling back to sleep.

Cullen strapped and buckled his pieces of armour back on then started sorting the left-over food into smaller bundles for them all to carry. He paused then tugged on a strap, then lifted up two full canteens of water before he started to chuckle.

“My word. Our spirit guide has brought us everything we needed!” He glanced to the bird in Fenris’ arms, his eyes softening a little. “Anders always did take care of everyone else’s needs ahead of his own.” He glanced away, blinking rapidly.

Fenris just held the bird closer and nuzzled at it’s feathers as he continued to pace, eager to be on the way. 

Cullen handed one water canteen to Zevran and the other to Meneris, then handed out the parcels of food. The boar had cooled; they’d eaten a lot of the food but there was still enough for at least one meal left.

“Where to now?” asked Dorian as he glanced around. “Our, ahem, guide appears to be... sleeping?”

“Do spirits sleep?” asked Cullen as he stared at the bundle of white feathers in Fenris’ arms.

“He’s not exactly your normal run-of-the-mill spirit,” pointed out Dorian. “We must make allowances - this must all be as strange to him in its way as it is to us. I’ve never known a spirit to sleep - but then I must say I’ve not really made personal acquaintance with many, and I doubt most get asked about their sleeping habits.”

“Solas and Cole would have been the perfect people to ask,” sighed Cullen.

The crow jerked suddenly awake with a flutter of wings.

“What’s the problem?” Fenris asked as the crow slipped then fell from his arms before he could catch it. There was a flash of light as it hit the ground, and Anders sprawled upon the grass at Fenris’ feet.

Fenris froze as he stared down at the white figure. 

Anders sat up slowly, staring at his hands as though they were unfamiliar, then looked around. He seemed confused and disoriented.

“Anders?” said Dorian softly.

“Love?” said Invictus gently as he stepped nearer. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot myself for a moment,” Anders whispered. “I forgot where I was. What I am.” He closed his eyes. “Who I was.” He shivered and hugged himself. “I can’t forget. I _mustn’t_!”

Fenris swallowed then backed away slowly.

“Easy, love,” said Invictus as he crouched down near Anders. “This must be as hard for you as it is for us.”

“Dangerous to forget,” breathed Anders. He closed his eyes, and then the white crow flew up from the grass. It circled overhead twice, then glided away over the grass before hovering, dipping and bobbing in place.

“I think he wants us to follow him again,” said Cullen.

“Let’s just go,” Fenris said as he reached for Zevran again, tired and heartsick.

They headed off, following the white crow. It waited for them before gliding on, through a space between two tall statues of immense wolves and on to land in the branches of a low tree where it stopped and waited.

“What do you think he meant by ‘dangerous to forget’?” asked Cullen quietly as he walked beside Dorian and Meneris.

“I was puzzling over that myself,” Dorian admitted. “Forgetting himself - where and who he was, that bit I can understand. And the ‘what’ - I suppose for a few brief moments he forgot he was - well, a spirit now. But dangerous? I wonder to whom?”

“Let it go, both of you. I just want to find our enemies, get this done and get back,” Meneris said tiredly.

“Apologies, Inquisitor,” said Cullen.

“A spirit who forgot he was a spirit,” Dorian mused very softly to himself. “I wonder what Cole would say to that....”

Fenris and Zevran drew level with the crow; it watched as they approached, then dropped from the branch, spreading its broad wings to glide on just a few feet ahead.

They followed on towards the next Eluvian.

 

***

Arden stood in the doorway of the small room, folded his arms, and leaned against the door frame.

Hal was sprawled asleep upon Ellowynne’s bed, the young girl curled up against him with her head pillowed upon his chest, both exhausted by the young girl’s grief for her father. Hal was as pale as Ellowynne, dark circles beneath his eyes which still showed signs of his blinding at Qunari hands. Ellowynne’s face was still stained with tears.

Arden straightened and moved away, pulling the door gently closed behind him. He glanced around the larger room.

He didn’t belong here. This wasn’t his room. It seemed wrong to leave Ellowynne by herself, but she’d insisted she wanted to be in her own room, closest to where her father had been. Hal had agreed willingly to keep her company. It was perhaps for the best that they both slept now.

He wondered how Aeolus was faring with Pin and Callus; the older elf had been wrestling with his own grief when he’d left with Hal and Ellowynne. Callus seemed a sensible youth however, Arden mused, as he took the stairs down towards the great hall.

With the others all sleeping, for the most part, Arden had a couple of hours at least to himself. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask after his own Anders whilst the others were deep in the throes of their own grief, but he missed him - even the way he was now, with little of his mind left and reduced to a child, Arden missed him.

His feet carried him swiftly towards his own quarters.

***

Two hours later, Arden felt mystified. He’d found no sign of the white-haired Anders anywhere. He’d searched everywhere he could think of but without success. Becky and Parcival mentioned that he had seemed more himself recently, less child-like though still with a perpetual air of bewilderment, innocence and gentleness. Becky confided that they’d been allowing him a little more independence of late.

“He comes and goes more or less as he pleases; I’m sure he’s fine,” she smiled. “He doesn’t like a lot of noise or crowded places though - he’s probably hidden himself away somewhere until it’s quieter.”

They promised to send someone for him when Anders reappeared. They were both hesitant and withdrawn around Arden; he could see it in their eyes - they wanted to ask him about _their_ Anders, their Grand Enchanter, his last moments, but didn’t quite have the heart to ask him.

He was on his way out of the infirmary when a messenger came with a summons from the Seeker. With the absence of the rest of the Inquisitor’s staff, it fell to Cassandra to ensure the smooth running of Skyhold and oversee the rest of the Inquisition’s forces.

He’d barely been bidden a curt “Enter!” and taken two steps into the Seeker’s office when she began haranguing him.

“What is the meaning of this? The bells tolling, some wild rumour of the Grand Enchanter murdered, the whole of Skyhold in uproar and not a single bird from Orlais bearing messages to account for it!” she snapped, gesticulating at him furiously. “You should have brought this news to me directly first! Your duty -”

“- Was to his daughter and his apprentice!” Arden snapped back. “It may have escaped your attention, _Seeker_ , but I am not a member of the Inquisition - I am a mage, and I answer to one man only - and that man now lies dead in the Divine’s own chapel in Val Royeaux!”

She glared at him. “You should have reported directly to me.”

“Oh should I?” he retorted, biting back the urge to swear at her. “You’ll forgive me if I had rather a lot on my mind, Seeker.”

“I understand you were present when it happened,” she stated, quieter. 

He nodded, feeling his own anger abate a little. “I was,” he agreed.

“Was it true, he died protecting the Divine?” she asked, her expression softening a little.

“Yes,” he nodded. “An assassin leapt up before the Divine, and the Grand Enchanter rose to protect her. He placed himself in harm’s way and was stabbed - once, through the heart. He died only a moment later in the First Enchanter’s arms.”

“It was quick then,” said Cassandra quietly. “Maker grant him rest and keep him safe.”

Arden felt the last of his anger drain away, leaving him feeling tired. He stumbled to the chair set before her desk and dropped into it heavily before he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands for a minute. He felt as though the past two days had aged him by at least ten years.

He heard the Seeker move to the side cabinet and then heard the clink of glass and liquid pouring; a moment later, she pressed a glass of brandy into his hands. He glanced it in faint bemusement then took it with a tired nod of thanks.

“I have been inundated with strange reports and hearsay,” Cassandra said as she took her seat behind the desk. “Many strange occurrences around Skyhold. This news is but one more thing to add to the tally.”

“What sort of strange occurrences?” asked Arden.

“Guards found asleep at their posts down in the dungeon. White feathers found near the cell where the Eluvian is kept down there. A large quantity of food missing from the kitchens, even bottles of wine from the Inquisitor’s personal store, with nothing to account for where it has gone,” she shrugged.

“Odd,” Arden agreed.

“I shall have to ask you to keep your... mirror-world Anders out of sight,” she went on as she drew a sheaf of reports to herself. “It would not do to have him spark tall tales of ghosts around the Keep.”

“I don’t know where he is,” replied Arden. “I dare say all the noise and uproar has frightened him.”

The Seeker made a noise of disgust. “That is all I need,” she shook her head. “No matter; we will deal with any rumours of ghosts as they arise. Tell me, when will you go back to Orlais?”

“A day or two, I think,” replied Arden. “I need to go to Kirkwall; the news must be broken to Viscount Tethras, and I can get there faster than any bird.”

“When will the funeral be?” asked Cassandra.

“It’s not known at present,” shrugged Arden. “Fenris, Invictus and Zevran, together with the Inquisitor, Ambassador Pavus and your husband the Commander have gone through the Eluvian in search of the assassin.”

“Cullen? Cullen has gone?” Cassandra blinked, a look of startled concern in her eyes; a moment later, it was as though a shutter had come down. “Commander Cullen will do his duty by the Inquisitor and the Grand Enchanter,” she said firmly.

It was Arden’s turn to blink, startled by how swiftly the Seeker had gone from a flash of concern for her husband to smooth professionalism of the trained soldier.

“The Grand Enchanter will lie in state in the Divine’s personal chapel until they return from their mission of vengeance,” he said. “That should gather enough time to bring mourners to Val Royeaux for the funeral.”

“Where will they lay him?” asked Cassandra.

“In the Chantry at Val Royeaux,” answered Arden. He took a sip from the brandy.

“That... no, he should be brought back to Skyhold,” frowned Cassandra. “He would have wanted to come home.”

“It surprises me to hear that from you, Seeker,” said Arden quietly.

“Anders would not have wished to be entombed by the Chantry in death as he was for so much of his life,” she replied. “It was in Skyhold he was finally, truly free. It is to Skyhold he should return.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Seeker,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m just surprised you see it that way too.”

“I was not kind to Anders,” she said quietly. “I did not trust him for a long time, and I said many unkind things in my anger. But I came to value him as a colleague. He was an exceptional healer, and a good man, and we are all the poorer for his loss. He should come home.”

Arden found he had nothing to say to that.

***

The portal rippled open, and Arden stepped out into the alleyway behind the Hanged Man in Kirkwall.

He would have gone straight to the Viscount’s Keep, except he’d never been to the Viscount’s personal quarters, and he didn’t think it a good idea to just hop directly into the main audience chamber. 

If truth be told, he felt he needed the fresh air in any case - well, as fresh as it ever got in Lowtown, anyway. He was familiar enough with the area around the Hanged Man that he could have made the leap blindfolded however.

He tugged his hood up then stepped out of the alley into the crowded street, joining the throng slowly drifting in the direction of Hightown. He was tall enough to see over the heads of much of the crowd; it was easy enough to weave his way steadily through the throngs of people as he headed on. Kirkwall seemed remarkably busy and crowded; he didn’t recall it ever being half as crowded as this back in the days when he called it home. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Hightown was less crowded, as he reached the top of the stairs and passed through the gates. His feet took him along the old familiar streets that led to the Keep. He had to fight hard against the urge to let his feet take him down the road that would have led him to the door of the Amell estate; this was not _his_ Kirkwall, and even in his own city he had ceased to call the estate ‘home’ long ago. There was nothing of him or his family left there now. All the family he had now lived in Skyhold.

He climbed the stairs to the Viscount’s Keep swiftly and hurried through the massive doors then glanced around for a moment.

Would Aveline still be here? He had no idea. Best find Varric first.

The Guard Captain was on her way to meet with Varric, glad that he was willing to listen to her requests for improving the guard’s equipment finally. She rounded a corner to find the stranger wandering towards the Viscount’s office.

“You there, what business do you have wandering here?” she called.

The man in the long hooded cloak jerked his head up, startled; she had an impression of a pale face, amber eyes, blond hair streaked with white and grey. “Oh! I’m sorry, I’m an old friend of the Viscount’s,” he said, then gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s alright, he’ll have time for me.”

“I’m sure, do you know how many people use that excuse to get in to see Viscount Tethras? You’ll have to wait as I have a meeting with him in a few moments. Sign in with the Seneschal and he’ll see you soon enough.” Aveline said, unsure why this man reminded her of someone.

The man stopped and stared at her. “You... don’t remember me, do you, Aveline?” he said quietly, an almost wistful tone in his voice.

She cocked her head to the side and stared at Arden, recognition not coming to her. “Sorry, you don’t seem familiar. When did we last cross paths?”

Arden lifted his hands slowly to the hood and lowered it, lifting an eyebrow. “It was a few years ago,” he said quietly. “I was... a guest of Invictus Hawke.”

Aveline frowned as she tried to remember where he could have come from, where they would have met. “Wait...years ago? Was it when I came across Invictus and that group trying to sneak home? You were ...you were the one who tried to talk me out of arresting you lot on the spot when Invictus couldn’t sweet talk me.”

Arden smiled more warmly. “That would have been me,” he nodded. “The name’s Arden. And I know you’re Guard Captain Vallen.” He held his hand out. “And I really _am_ an old friend of Varric’s.”

“I’m guessing your sudden appearance means news Varric will want to hear for himself?” Aveline asked as she took his hand.

“Yes, though I wish it were not so dire,” sighed Arden. His expression suddenly turned bleak. “And... I think you should come with me to hear it. I would have come to find you afterwards in any case; it’s... probably as well if you hear it together.”

“Lead on then, and I’ll brace for whatever news you have brought.” Aveline nodded towards Varric’s door and fell in with the man.

Varric glanced up as they entered. “Guard Captain, you’re early as ever,” he smiled as he got to his feet. “And - Arden? What in the name of the Maker’s blue balls are you doing here?” He frowned as he took in Arden’s expression. “Wait. Has something happened to Hawke?”

“Hawke - Invictus, he, he’s fine,” Arden managed. “Fenris too.”

Varric studied his expression. “And Blondie?” As Arden started to slowly shake his head, Varric slowly dropped back down into his seat.

“Ah, no. Not Blondie,” he said softly. “Damn.” He drew a long, slow breath, shaking his head, then slowly glanced up. “His Calling, I take it?”

Arden swallowed, darted a glance to Aveline. “No. I’m sorry. It was an assassin. He - it was very quick. He didn’t suffer.” 

“Maker, Fenris, Invictus and Zevran must be devastated.” She paused and looked to Varric. “His little girl, how is she doing?”

“She took it - well. About as well as you expect for a child,” Arden shrugged helplessly as Varric got to his feet and moved to the drinks cabinet to pour them all a glass of something dark amber in colour from a square bottle. “She was inconsolable. She eventually fell asleep on Hal - he was pretty wiped out as well. Fenris had just rescued him from the Qunari; he’s not fully recovered from being their prisoner.”

Varric shoved a glass into his hands, and another into Aveline’s; she opened her mouth to argue, trying to hand it back, but the dwarf glowered at her. “Take it, Red,” he growled. “You’re off the clock as of right now and I won’t take no for an answer.” He picked up his own glass and then raised it in toast.

“To Blondie,” he said.

They echoed his toast then there was silence as they sipped, then Varric made his way back to his seat.

“Funny you should mention Qunari,” said the dwarf slowly as he leaned back in his chair. “Tell him what we found, Red.”

“Several barrels of gaatlok under the throneroom. Seems they have gotten in here as well.” Aveline said.

“Gaatlok? Here, as well?” exclaimed Arden, startled. “But - Anders had only just neutralised a stockpile we found beneath the Council chamber itself, only a few hours before he was killed!”

“We should check with other leaders as well, if they’ve hit here and Orlais.” Aveline said before rising. 

“Dorian can check with -” Arden broke off and a frustrated look crossed his face. “No... he can’t.” As Varric frowned and gestured for him to carry on, Arden sighed and dropped into a chair. “Dorian and the Inquisitor went through the Eluvian Fenris had found in the wine cellars of the Winter Palace,” he explained. “They, Fenris, Zevran, Invictus and Commander Cullen have gone to hunt down Anders’ murderer - the Iron Bull.”

Varric’s eyebrows crept upwards. “Anders’ murder was a Qunari plot?” he said slowly.

“Well - it looked like the assassin was going for the Divine and Anders took the knife meant for her,” shrugged Arden.

“We’d better reach out to King Theirin and...well we can let Sebastian figure it out for himself. I’ll shed no tears if he gets taken out.” Aveline grinned at them.

“Nor will Arden here,” remarked Varric, gesturing at the blond mage as he hunched over in his chair. “Arden has more reason than the rest of us to mislike the name of Chantry Boy. He spent a year in the bastard’s dungeons, after all.”

“I’ll send word to my contacts in Rivain, and Nevarra. If you’ll excuse me gentlemen.” Aveline gave them both a shallow bow then headed for her office.

“What I don’t get is why the Qunari should try to kill the Divine in Council, if they were already preparing to blow everyone up?” mused Varric as he tapped his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger.

“I’m sorry?” asked Arden as he lifted his head; for a little while there he had been distracted by thoughts of long painful months in Starkhaven, drawn back to memories he would sooner have forgotten. His joints ached as if reminded of the torture he’d endured, and he winced slightly as he straightened.

“This assassination attempt. It doesn’t make sense,” said Varric, shaking his head. “If I wrote this into one of my stories, the readers would never fall for it. The Exalted Council must be adjourned now until after the funeral, correct? You can hardly call the Inquisition to account if the Inquisitor’s off killing the assassin, after all. So why bother sending in one assassin - with all the risk of the attempt failing - if you’re planning to take the whole Council out in one go?”

“What do you mean?” asked Arden, frowning.

“I mean, what if the assassin didn’t come from the Qunari?” said Varric. “Who else stands to gain from the Divine being put out of commission? Come to that, who gains from _Anders_ being dead?”

“Sebastian,” whispered Arden. “Oh Maker. Oh no, they’ve gone after the wrong person! But - the knife, it was the one left behind by the Iron Bull when he kidnapped Hal - how would Sebastian have gotten his hands on it? Zevran had it!”

“Same way the assassin got it from Zevran,” shrugged Varric. “What was so particular about the knife?”

“Zevran said it carried a message,” Arden said slowly. “One you could only read when the blade was covered in blood.”

Varric steepled his hands and pondered. “So. A blade that Ser Crow recognised. One that was last seen in his possession - used to kill his husband. A blade that Zevran would have had no reason to carry with him, I presume - but it would be rather useful if the knife just happened to be used to kill Anders and put the blame on a group that is a convenient enemy anyway.”

“Varric, you’ve lost me,” said Arden hopelessly.

“Lost anyone else recently Blondie?” The nickname slipped out without thought; Varric winced, but Arden got to his feet.

“Yes. _My_ Anders. He’s disappeared. And - Cole, no-one has seen him in months either!”

“Your Anders?” echoed Varric, frowning. “I thought your Anders and Fenris - forgive me, but didn’t they both die?”

Arden groaned. He got to his feet and started pacing as he swiftly brought Varric up to speed on all he’d missed since he’d departed back for Kirkwall just after the Inquisitor’s wedding. As he spoke, Varric poured them both more brandy, then drew quill and parchment to himself and began writing swiftly. Aveline returned and was waved to a chair and Varric signalled to her to keep silent as Arden paced, still talking; for several minutes, the only sounds were Arden’s voice, the scratch of Varric’s quill as it raced across the parchment, and the soft tread of Arden’s boots as he paced restlessly.

Arden’s narrative drew to its close and Varric nudged a fresh glass of brandy across the desk towards him as the blond mage coughed, hoarse from talking so much. The dwarf raised his eyebrows at Aveline. 

“Thoughts, Guard Captain?” he said quietly.

“This is all strange, and I fear for all of them honestly. I’ve no idea what they could be up to with trying to blow up leaders over Thedas.” Aveline mused.

“Oh, come on, now, Guard Captain,” said Varric, shaking his head. “What do the Qunari _always_ want, everywhere they go? What do you think they’ve been doing for decades on Seheron? Same thing the Qunari _always_ do - try and convert everybody to the Qun. How better to do it than kill all the heads of state at once? Thedas is still in a mess with a few rifts here and there the Inquisitor is slowly getting to one at a time, there’s still the odd remnants of Venatori running around causing trouble here and there, all the Grey Wardens kicked out of Orlais, the Circles overthrown and the Templars and Seekers too, and this College not yet fully established. Take out all the rulers and heads of state, the systems of governance - perfect time for the Qunari to just roll over the whole of Thedas, mass conversions to the Qun.”

“Oh Maker,” breathed Arden as he exchanged a look with Aveline.

“Not on my watch, never on mine. What do you wish to do Viscount?” Aveline asked

“First we need to get messages to all the heads of state as fast as possible,” said Varric. “Even crows will be slower than I’d like but it can’t be helped -”

“No,” said Arden. “I can get messages out faster than that. Faster still if I do something that you really don’t want to know about. But it’s OK - the Inquisitor made Dorian promise; he never asked if Dorian had taught anyone else.” He grinned.

“What are you talking about, Blondie? Do I even want to know?” asked Varric slowly.

“You’re coming with me, Varric,” said Arden. “You tell me where you need to go, I’ll get you there.” He glanced at Aveline. “I’m going to need lyrium. A _lot_ of lyrium.”

She was confused but didn’t question the mage at his odd request. “Of course, let me send someone to the store room.” Aveline replied before sprinting off to get a runner.

“What’s your plan, Arden Hawke?” said Varric slowly. “I recognise the look in your eye. You Hawkes are all the same; I know that glint. You’ve got a plan.”

Arden began to laugh helplessly. “Varric, haven’t you figured it out yet?” he gasped. “There’s no plan! There never was any plan! We, Vic and I - we just did what seemed a good idea at the time, and somehow we pulled it off but Maker, there was never an actual plan!”

Varric shook his head and grinned at Arden. “The readers are going to want more than that, Blondie.”

“Varric, let’s make sure you even _have_ any readers before you start worrying about what they’ll read,” laughed Arden.

“You get me where I need to go, Blondie, and leave the writing up to me,” nodded the dwarf. “We may just have a chance yet.”

***

Consciousness returned slowly; first with memory.

He stared into the eyes of the man, and there was a stab of recognition. He’d been in this place before. Though the clothes were different, he knew those pale eyes and pale blond hair; remembered staring up into them under different circumstances. 

_”Let me help you.” A blade pressed against the skin over his heart._

_“Yes.” His own voice, tired, wanting it all to be over. To stop._

The dagger thrust into his chest; he staggered and stared down, shocked. His hands flew up to clutch at the hilt of the blade as pain lanced through him. _My heart. He’s... stabbed me through my heart??_ He stared at the blood as it welled up around the knife, in shock and disbelief. _This can’t be happening._

He felt himself falling, and then he was cradled in Invictus’ arms as he gazed up into his husband’s eyes. It was hard to breathe; he could feel his heart faltering as it still tried to beat, even with the dagger piercing it - rending itself around the cruel steel as his life’s blood steadily flowed away, soaking into his robes. _It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I’m not ready. I’m not ready!_

Invictus, crying. Begging him not to die. He reached up to clutch at Invictus’ robe, desperately clinging even as he struggled to speak.

“Love... love, I....”

The words wouldn’t come. His eyesight was fading. He felt cold, so cold; he could feel his hand falling, and then he felt nothing as the world went dark, his last thought, _I want to live._  
Now softness; he was lying on something soft, and there was a terrible pain in his chest. It hurt; Maker, it hurt _so bad_ but he couldn’t cry out; couldn’t move. His limbs felt like lead. Had he been ill? Had all that passed before been a dream?

It was quiet; he heard nothing, not even the sound of someone breathing. Was he alone? He could smell candles, the faint scent of flowers; and over all, the heady scent of incense burning. He found himself trying to analyse the scent. _Frankincense. Myrrh. Dragontree resin._ A Chantry blend. Why would someone be burning that? _Wait. Myrrh? That’s... a funerary blend, for someone who’s died!_

His eyes opened in surprise, and then he blinked dazedly. His eyes. He could open them.

His vision was hazy; it was dark, but something glowed golden above him; candlelight reflecting off a golden statue. _Andraste_ , he thought distantly; Andraste’s face staring benevolently down upon him.

_Anders...._

The voice was a soft sigh; as he stared up at Andraste’s face, it seemed to shimmer through the blurred haze of his vision. He thought he saw a tear roll down that perfect cheek as Her eyes regarded him sorrowfully.

He swallowed, his throat dry. “An...Andraste?” he managed to whisper, his voice faint and weak.

_Oh Anders. My poor child._

“H-holy Lady. An-Andraste.” Was this real? Was it truly happening? He felt dizzy, disoriented, and so, so tired.

_You have been so tired for so long, My child. It is time to rest._

A bier. He was lying on a bier surrounded by flowers in a Chantry, beneath the feet of Andraste.

“I... I’m dead?” He felt his eyes sting with tears. “But I’m not - I wasn’t ready to die, Andraste! Please... I want to go back. Please send me back. I don’t want to die!” He felt the tears roll down his face as Andraste blurred in his vision, a golden shimmer through the film of tears over his eyes. _I’m crying. Is it possible to cry when you’re dead? Am I a spirit, trapped in my body? Is this the Fade?_ His cheeks were wet; his throat felt tight. It all felt physical and real and yet unreal at the same time.

_Anders. Would you return to that world of pain?_

Somehow, he managed to nod. Maker, he felt so weak; his chest hurt so much. “Yes... yes, I would. I’m not ready to die. Please. Please, send me back.” His voice, weak and shaky.

_Would you not rest by My side, My child? You have earned it._

“Oh Holy Lady,” he wept brokenly. “I haven’t. I want to, but... there’s so much left undone. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but... please. I need to go back. My - my little girl... my little Ellowynne....” He couldn’t see for tears.

_Oh Anders._ Her voice sounded so sad and yet loving and kind. _Very well. I will send you back, My child. My son. My beloved son._

“Thank you. Oh thank you,” he breathed. He felt so tired.

_Sleep, Anders_ , She whispered, and he closed his eyes.

He slowly felt himself drifting back into sleep. He was vaguely aware of footsteps upon flagstones; voices talking. 

“...been put on hold until they return, Knight Commander; he lies in state until -”

“Maker. Sister, do - do you see?”

“Sweet Andraste, his - his face, are those - tears?? Is it - is it a miracle?”

“Hush, Sister - let me -”

A sharply-indrawn breath. He was distantly aware of a hand touching him.

“I don’t believe it. He’s breathing. Fetch the Divine. She must know at once.”

Footsteps, hurrying away.

“Anders? Anders, can you hear me?”

_Yes,_ he wanted to say. But his body wouldn’t obey him.

_Tired, so tired._

He slept.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to light, but other things remain murky

Fenris panted as he stood up, keystone in hand to the Darvaarad. “This is what we need to cross the final eluvian. Let’s go.” 

Dorian braced his hands on his thighs as he bent over, still panting himself; he glanced around at the others. “Hang on, Fenris,” he gasped. “We can’t keep up at this pace. Meneris’ Mark is - it’s almost out of control; that last blast nearly took _us_ out too!”

“You stay then, I am not stopping when I am so close to avenging him.” Fenris snarled, his brands alight, some glowing pink where blood covered him. 

“Love, not all of us have your stamina. Please, a breather for just a few minutes.” Invictus gasped from where he still lay on the grass.

The crow fluttered down from Fenris’ shoulder to the grass near Invictus. It hopped from him over to Zevran, where the Antivan sprawled upon his side, one hand still clutching the ribs that Invictus swore he’d heard crack when the elf was thrown against a pile of stones by one of that last group of Qunari they’d fought. Zevran hadn’t said a word, but Invictus knew he was pretty much on his last legs.

There was a soft ripple of light and Anders knelt beside the Antivan, reaching out his hands to heal the elf. Even the spirit looked exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes as he channelled healing into Zevran’s bloodied body.

Fenris paced around in circles, angry at having to wait when revenge was at his fingertips. He knew better but he was in a frenzy for combat.

Zevran was pulling himself slowly up onto his feet; without thinking, he pulled Anders to his feet then clutched at the tall man.

“Rest,” said Anders gently. He patted Zevran’s shoulder, then turned to work healing on Cullen.

“How long until we can move on?” Fenris snarled.

“I know you are eager for more bloodshed but we won’t best a mabari as we are now. Try to calm yourself Fenris.” Meneris said as he rested against Dorian.

Anders rose and moved to Invictus; he gestured, and the mage felt an invigorating rush of energy flow through him, alleviating his tiredness, before the spirit swayed then turned to Fenris.

Fenris growled at the spirit, or whatever it was. He was so deep in blood lust he didn’t feel the cuts and bruises that covered him. “What?”

“You are injured,” said Anders quietly as he stepped closer. “May I heal you?”

“Fine, as long as it means we move on soon.” Fenris said, his gaze hard as he watched the apparition approach him.

Anders gently rested a hand on Fenris’ shoulder and began to heal him. His magic felt slightly different - as soothing and gentle as it ever had, and yet it felt slightly different to how he remembered it. Anders finished the healing with a wash of invigorating energy, then stepped back, looking exhausted.

“Thank you.” Fenris said as he turned to pace, his anger tamped down slightly but still enough to make him antsy.

Anders turned away, then suddenly dropped, almost collapsing to the grass before he could catch himself. He put a hand to his head and closed his eyes.

“Anders?” exclaimed Dorian, alarmed.

“What?” Fenris called as he heard his friend’s cry.

“What happened, he’s a spirit surely he can’t collapse like this?” Vic said.

“What if he’s not a spirit but another Anders altogether?” Meneris ventured.

“Can spirits tire?” wondered Cullen, glancing to Dorian.

Dorian shrugged. “I suppose even spirits can tire eventually if overtaxed enough. Meneris, that last time your mark went off was pretty explosive - and we know your mark affects demons. Maybe it has an effect on Anders too? Or maybe it’s just a constant drain on him, remaining here and guiding us instead of whatever... people’s spirits do when they die?” He gave Invictus a helpless look. “I’m sorry, it’s really not my area of expertise. As a necromancer, I deal in bodies after the spirits have left them, not... spirits without bodies.”

“Well damn, I don’t know what to do about this. Maybe a rejuvenate?” Vic ventured.

“That’s worth a try, certainly,” agreed Dorian.

Anders lifted his head wearily to stare up at Invictus as the other mage approached. “I’m so tired,” he said softly. 

“I know, love,” said Invictus gently as he crouched down and rested a hand upon the weary man’s shoulder to channel a rejuvenate spell into him. “But we’ll find them soon. And then you can rest at last.”

“Yes,” breathed Anders faintly as he closed his eyes. “I will be able to sleep.”

As Invictus lifted his hand away, Anders opened his eyes again; he smiled at Invictus, and though tired his eyes seemed a little brighter. He accepted Invictus’ hand as the other mage pulled him to his feet, and then his form shimmered then strank and the white crow fluttered up onto his shoulder.

“Coming?” called Fenris.

“Yes, yes we’re coming, _amicus_ ,” called Dorian as they moved as one to follow the white-haired elf. Zevran and Invictus walked side by side, and Cullen brought up the rear behind Meneris and Dorian.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” said Meneris quietly. “What if he’s not a spirit but another Anders altogether?”

“Not possible,” shrugged Dorian. “Shapeshifting is a skill mages lost long ago - if indeed it ever truly existed at all. He can change into a bird - quite clearly he _must_ be a spirit.”

“That’s not true,” said Meneris, frowning.

“I beg your pardon?” blinked Dorian.

“I said, that’s not true,” replied Meneris. “We Dalish have always had shapeshifters. Not many, it’s true - but they do exist. He’s not an elf though.”

“Nor is Morrigan,” remarked Cullen from just behind them. “But she and her mother are both shapeshifters. All the legends of the Witch of the Wilds say so.”

“Legends,” scoffed Dorian.

“Scoff if you like, Dorian,” said Cullen slowly. “But you forget that this is one legend I’ve met personally.”

“As have we Dorian.” Invictus said tiredly

“It is true, we met Flemeth, who could shift to a...dragon as well.” Fenris added.

“Morrigan quite evidently knows elven magic however,” Dorian argued. “Presumably learnt from her mother. Anders is no elf, nor has he studied with them as far as I’m aware - and when did we ever see him change shape whilst living?” He moved forward to walk beside Invictus. “Look, if Anders could shapeshift, don’t you think he would have just _flown_ away from the Tower instead of running?”

“We never did work out how exactly he got _out_ of the tower, but... point taken,” said Cullen as he frowned in thought. “We know he did swim once - and not as a fish, either.”

“Maybe he forgot, did so to keep himself safe from accidentally changing and giving the templars another reason to imprison him or kill him?” Fenris asked.

The crow had been dozing on Invictus’ shoulder; at mention of templars, it woke suddenly, fanning it’s wings with a cry of alarm before its talons gripped firmly onto the mage’s shoulder again and it settled itself once more, glancing around with a disgruntled expression.

“Well that confirms that it is him, in some form. Either spirit or another version that is an animagus.” Fenris said gruffly.

“Easy there, easy.” Vic said as he reached up to pet the crow’s head, ease it’s squawking.

“Well then we’re right back to wondering your original point then, Meneris - is this the spirit of Anders, or some other Anders? and if the latter, why is he hanging around on Invictus as much as Fenris or Zevran?” wondered Dorian.

“I don’t know, perhaps in another place and time, he still fell in with a Hawke? I don’t understand this at all because I’m no mage.” Meneris said.

“Well, he can’t be Arden’s Anders,” sighed Cullen. “That poor sod can barely string two sentences together.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know which would be better and which would be worse - some other Anders somehow trapped here, or our Anders’ spirit still lingering to help. Though - the things he says... he _has_ to be our Anders.”

“At least they are not falling apart as readily as before. As long as it keeps them from all losing their minds to grief, I am glad of this spirit’s presence. Come, we need to get going.” Meneris said with a nod to the others.

Dorian glanced up at the crow as it rode on Invictus’ shoulder. The bird was settling itself down again, its feathers fluffed up as it closed its eyes.

Zevran moved to walk next to Fenris, then moved in front to scout ahead.

Fenris fell in next to Invictus, often brushing against the other man, or reaching up to pet the crow, despite his misgivings. 

Zevran came to a halt and lifted a hand in a gesture they’d come to recognise meant he’d spotted another eluvian.

“We must surely be getting close by now,” murmured Dorian.

“I think so, this keystone should open the Darvaarad to us and finally our goal. I hate that we have been gone as long as we have. My blade still thirsts for vengeance and I ...wish to see him off before long so I can, so I can …” Fenris fell silent, his expression anguished before he hurried to catch up with Zevran.

“He’s going to lose himself when we have the funeral, as will they all.” Meneris said quietly, his gaze flitting between the three men.

“It’s going to be very hard for any of them to carry on,” said Cullen heavily.

Zevran turned and glanced at Fenris as the other elf hurried to join him. He turned and gestured at the eluvian ahead. The dried blood across his face was flaking and peeling in places now, clean tracks marking the path of tears down his face. His eyes were still red, as were those of Fenris and Invictus. But there was a look of tired hopefulness in Zevran’s eyes as he drew the blade from his belt and kissed it. The Qunlat letters had faded, but Fenris didn’t need to see them; the blade was as familiar to him as any of his own.

The Tevinter elf took the blade and pressed a kiss to it as well before caressing Zevran’s face. “We will have our vengeance, then we rest. I swear it my heart.” Fenris said softly before resuming their path.

The eluvian was closer now; it would only take a few minutes’ walk to reach it. The keystone was hard and cold in Fenris’ hand.

He lit his brands as he approached the eluvian, but it remained dark until he held the Keystone up to it’s surface. “Take us to Darvaarad, give us what we came for.” Fenris asked quietly.

The mirror lit up, and then Fenris’ hand passed slowly through the glass.

It was dark on the other side, and the air felt different - cold, damp, and there was a sharp, unpleasant scent in the air. Zevran glanced to Fenris and mouthed the word _gaatlok_ to the other elf.

There was a whirring of wings, and the white crow flew through the eluvian and circled over their heads as Invictus joined them.

“So I see, I will be careful carissimi.” Fenris said as they continued on towards a fortress, and several Qunari. “Finally, more blood for my blade.” 

“Be careful, an attack gone wrong could send us sky high if those are all full of gaatlok.” Invictus pulled his staff free, ice already forming in his hands.

Several Qunari were already turning away from the barrels they were stacking against a wall and drawing weapons. One of the Qunari turned and sprinted off into the fortress as the others came forward and leapt to attack.

Zevran drew throwing knives and hurled them swiftly, each finding its mark before he leapt into the shadows, reappearing behind a Qunari warrior twice his height. The long fighting knives in his hands flashed in the dull light and the warrior bellowed in pained rage as the keen edges sliced into the backs of his legs; hamstrung, he fell to the floor as the Antivan darted back into the shadows.

Invictus hurled ice at the nearest Qunari, letting it fan out from his hand to engulf their feet and pin them in place as Fenris moved in to finish them off. Meneris worked alongside him as Dorian took out several more with a chain lightning attack. High overhead, the white crow circled as they swiftly took out the first wave of attackers then moved on deeper into the fortress, the bird gliding on ahead.

There was a loud screeching roar, and Fenris glanced around, startled. “That was a dragon!” he called to the others. “They have a dragon?”

The white crow glided back to him; as it touched down lightly, it glowed and Anders stepped forward. “A dragon. They hold her prisoner.”

Fenris scowled at that and glanced to Anders. “Take me to her, she won’t be captive for long.” 

Anders nodded and turned; between one footstep and the next, his form shifted, shrank, and he was on the wing once more, soaring ahead to lead the way.

He led them out onto a balcony; there, below them, they could see a high dragon had been tethered with iron chains. She was surrounded by qunari workers, and at a glance they could finally see where all the gaatlok was coming from. The qunari were draining off her venom to make gaatlok - a procedure that evidently was painful and infuriating to the high dragon as she screamed and shrieked her fury.

“Mythal...she’s glorious.” Fenris said as he took in the rings that surrounded her, the flasks that kept her from flying away and the gate. “I have to move those rings.” he said as he dashed to the first one, turning the crank until the flasks were far from her wings and pulled double duty in keeping the qunari occupied. 

He noticed the others had entered but didn’t stop as he made his way to the other crank, and aligned the next ring so she was closer to freedom. Fenris made it to the last crank, but it wouldn’t budge. “That wagon’s in the way.”

“Invictus, a hand?” shouted Cullen as he ran forward to throw his shoulder against the wagon and he started to heave it out of the way. Meneris and Dorian were busy picking off various qunari who were objecting to Fenris’ efforts; a scream from somewhere off to the right indicated Zevran was doing the same.

Invictus gave Fenris a wave for all clear before he ducked an incoming qunari blade. “Get that lined up, we can’t keep this up for long.” he shouted before diving back into the fray.

The elven warrior finished setting the outer ring to free her before vaulting down and across the field to open the gates for the dragon. “I just hope she leaves and doesn’t decide to make a snack out of us for our trouble.” Fenris panted as he slammed the lever up and backed away from the gate.

The dragon’s head whipped around and she lunged open-mouthed towards Invictus and Cullen, then jerked her head back as something white blurred in front of her snout. She turned her head to snap at the white bird as it darted out of her reach. She bellowed in fury, then spread her wings and leapt after the bird.

Fenris didn’t have the luxury of watching; more qunari were pouring out onto the floor of the gaatlok factory, furious that the dragon was escaping.

Fenris snarled as he watched them chasing after the dragon, his markings lit as he rejoined the battle, hoping the dragon got away before it managed to snap up Anders instead of escaping. “How many fucking qunari are here?” 

“More than I ever wanted to see after Kirkwall.” Vic called out as he called up Tempest to take out the qunari that still streamed in from the factory.

The dragon leapt into the air and drove its wings down, launching itself after the white crow, then soared up into the sky. With a loud, final bellow of defiance, she flew high and far into the night.

“Hissrad!” called a voice. “Destroy them!”

Fenris whirled at the voice, eager to take on whoever this Hissrad was. He grinned as he recognized Bull. He laughed as he flicked his blade to get rid of the blood. “Finally, we get to take your head for what you’ve done. Zev, I believe we have work to do.” 

“Sorry, Viddasala,” replied the Iron Bull. “Afraid I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean, _can’t_?” hissed the Ben-Hassrath priestess who was glaring at the massive kossith. The Iron Bull shrugged and gave her a grin.

“Not my job, Ma’am,” he replied and turned to head back into the fortress at a run.

Zevran ran up to join Fenris, blood dripping into his left eye from a cut above his brow, the blood smearing into the dried remains of Anders’ blood. The Antivan seemed as surprised by the odd turn of events as Fenris.

Viddasala turned to the other warriors with her. “Stop them - all of you, stop them! I shall deal with him!”

“Vic, bring them to their knees, I’ve got a Ben-Hassrath to kill.” Fenris shouted before he teleported past them and ran to catch up with Bull.

“Stop, you don’t get to walk away from us. Not after what you’ve had done for your masters. I will have vengeance for Anders.” Fenris snarled as he advanced on his enemy.

The Iron Bull’s footsteps slowed and he turned to stare back at Fenris. “What vengeance?” he asked. “I have done nothing to Anders. I have never had any cause to harm him.” He shook his head. “You have no quarrel with me for his sake. Anders is fine.”

Fenris screamed in fury at Bull. “Liar! He’s dead, killed by one of your agents. He’s gone and I will have my revenge.” 

The Iron Bull’s eye widened in shock. “No. No, he can’t be. I sent a message, I sent word for him to leave! No, he cannot be dead!”

“He’s dead, he breathed his last in Invictus’ arms. Your damned agents used the same knife that was in my room. You are dead Bull, DEAD!” Fenris howled before he charged at the warrior.

The Iron Bull deflected his wild sword blow with his axe as he backed away. “I swear to you I had nothing to do with this, Fenris,” he replied as he backed away. “I sent Cole to him - I told Cole to help him!”

“You lie, you have always lied! You hurt Hal, you fucking collared him like a dog. I will never believe you! You will pay for his death, even if it kills me.” Fenris screamed with each strike, his rage growing every time Bull deflected his attacks. 

“I am not lying, Fenris,” insisted the Bull as he backed away, still effortlessly parrying the elf’s wild blows. “Not about this. I regret what happened with Hal, but I kept him safe and I sent him back with you. I distracted the others so your friends could take you both home. And I sent Cole and told him to help Anders. I told him to do whatever Anders needed to keep him safe. I gave Hal my word I would not lift my hand against any of you and I kept it. You have no idea what is happening here, Fenris!”

“Stop lying! You can’t stop even now can you!” Fenris screamed as he pivoted to strike at his opponents chest, hoping to cause him as much pain as his husband had suffered before dying. 

Invictus ran to where he heard Fenris’ voice, huffing as he collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. “Fenris!”

Meneris joined him, and if not for Dorian’s arm around his waist he’d had joined the mage in landing on the ground. “He’s sloppy because he’s angry, he’s going to get killed.” he huffed.

“Maker - look! Zevran!” exclaimed Cullen as the elf suddenly darted out from the shadows behind the Bull, a knife raised in his hand as he prepared to strike the Bull. 

At that moment, the Bull threw something down on the floor and there was a bright flash of light; the Bull was gone, and blinded, Fenris was unable to see that his sword was flying straight down towards Zevran’s head as the Antivan staggered.

Something white streaked down from above and Fenris jerked back at the last moment, his sword blow swinging wide. The white crow was flung hard across the hallway; as it hit the stone wall there was a flash of light and then a white figure fell to sprawl motionless upon the ground.

Fenris blinked, after-images still dancing across his vision. He stared at Zevran who was upon his knees in front of the white-haired warrior, staring up at him as blood ran down his face, a stunned expression upon the Antivan’s face.

Fenris fell to his knees and cradled the other elf’s face in his hands. “No, please no. Mythal, please no. I ...can’t lose you too. Zevran, say something, please!”

Invictus ran over to help while Meneris nudged Cullen and Dorian to check on Anders, who lay still where he landed.

“I... I hit him,” Zevran managed hoarsely, his voice rough from misuse. “The knife hit.”

Cullen and Dorian were crouched down by the motionless figure in white; Cullen reached out and carefully rolled the figure over as he and Dorian spoke quietly together.

“Where are you bleeding from? Please tell me I didn’t do this.” Fenris said shakily as he glanced over at Invictus. “Help him, please.”

“Zevran let me see where you’re injured, close your eyes for a moment.” Invictus requested before he laid hands on his husband, worried for what he’d find. Zevran obediently closed his eyes as Invictus carefully checked him over; the mage gave a relieved sigh as he realised the blood came from the cut upon Zevran’s brow which was weeping messily but thankfully didn’t seem to be too serious.

“I hit him,” Zevran repeated in a rasping whisper. “Look. His blood on my hands.” He lifted his hands to show the blood on his fingers.

“We will make him pay my heart.” Fenris said as he sat back and sprawled on his back. “He even tried to blame Cole for what had happened.” 

“Blame Cole how? He knows that he’s a spirit, he’d have no cause to harm Anders.” Vic said as he continued to patch up Zevran. The Antivan sat still, his eyes closed as Invictus tended to him. He remained silent.

Anders was sitting up slowly, putting one hand to his head. Cullen glanced to Dorian with a concerned look.

“Not a word, Cullen,” murmured the magister as he helped Anders back up to his feet. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I think perhaps the sooner we all get out of here the better.”

“Dorian, we can’t _not_ tell them!” hissed Cullen quietly.

“Can’t we? Bloody watch me,” Dorian murmured as he pulled a healing potion from his belt pouch. He opened it and handed it to the dazed Anders. “Drink this then go do your ... shapeshifting... whatever,” he muttered. “We need to get out of here in one piece, and if that means letting _them_ think you’re their dead husband? Frankly I’ll take it and worry about coming clean later.”

“I’m sorry,” murmured Anders. “I tried to stop it. I was too late.”

“So you said,” sighed Dorian. “There. You’ve stopped bleeding now.” He poured water from his canteen onto the cuff of his sleeve then wiped away the blood on Anders’ pale face. “Now go do your ghost act, hmm?”

There was a flash of silver light, then the white crow soared up into the air and glided towards the others.

“Come on, let’s see what’s going on with Fenris and Zevran,” said Dorian.

Meneris arrived as Fenris was explaining his argument with Bull, his eyebrows rising as he heard the elf mention Cole. 

“What’s that about Cole? What does he have to do with any of this?” asked the Inquisitor as he sat between the other elves.

Fenris laughed bitterly as he lay there. “Bull claimed he had nothing to do with Anders’ murder. Said he told Cole to take care of him, help him.”

Dorian glanced at Meneris, and then groaned. “Oh no. After what happened the _last_ time Cole tried to help Anders and take care of him.... _Venhedis_. If it weren’t that Bull is pretty much, what, a professional liar? That would actually sound remarkably plausible.”

“Why? What _did_ happen?” asked Cullen. “He was pretty damned useful in helping Invictus and Aeolus rescue Hal and Fenris.”

“We arrived just in time to find him about to stab Anders through the heart in the mistaken impression he was -” Dorian broke off. “He was helping him,” he finally finished slowly. He looked at Zevran. “Zevran, that knife. The last time I remember seeing it before it was used to kill Anders, it was in your hand.”

Zevran nodded; he glanced to Fenris. “His room,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Then mine. Left behind in Skyhold.”

Fenris stared at Zevran in confusion, as if he couldn’t believe what was right in front of them. “No...he’d have no reason to try and help Anders like that again. He ...it knows we love him, why...this makes no sense.” he said as he stared at his elven spouse.

Invictus cleared his throat and gave both his loves an apologetic look before continuing. “He is or was a spirit of compassion. Anders has been miserable during this whole farce of a Council, and ...if Bull wasn’t lying, if Cole took his words the wrong way, he might have tried to help as he did before?” 

Zevran looked to the white crow as it swooped down onto his shoulder. “He led us here,” he rasped quietly. “We follow him.”

“Can it wait a few more minutes? I’m still sore after I went after that asshole. That’ll teach me to swing wild.” Fenris muttered.

“Rest love, give yourself a breather after that fight. If this bird can’t show us the way out, can you take us back?” Vic asked.

“Wait - what about the qunari?” said Cullen. “The gaatlok? This factory must have been producing _hundreds_ of barrels - far more than were accounted for by the stack under the Council chamber! Where are the rest? Where’s it all gone to? And how did they know about the eluvians?”

“The Commander does have a point,” said Dorian. “Can we afford to go back now without knowing just what exactly this whole threat even _is_?”

“It was simply a question Cullen. We came on this ill advised jaunt half-cocked and if we don’t find answers soon, we’ll need to go back to rest, resupply and ...send Anders home. I wouldn’t like it any more than you but we can’t go on much longer without supplies. Meneris isn’t even in his armor for Maker’s sake.” Invictus got to his feet and stretched until he felt his back loosen. 

Fenris had laid back down, his eyes closed as he fought exhaustion. 

Cullen glanced at the bird, then made to speak; Dorian caught his eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Cullen frowned slightly.

“Do we even know where we are? This doesn’t feel like that - weird - _Fade_ place,” he said. The eluvians lead to actual places as well as the Fade, right?”

“This isn’t the Fade, no black city.” Fenris said, eyes closed and hands folded against his chest as he leaned against the remains of a wall. 

“Ok birdie, where do we go next?” Vic asked.

“Maybe we need supplies, armour - better weapons,” suggested Cullen. “Wherever that gaatlok’s gone to, it isn’t _here_ any more.”

“He is right,” whispered Zevran. “Need rest. Food. Then on.”

“It’ll take a while for - for the funeral arrangements to be made anyway,” went on Cullen. “Josephine can deal with that whilst we’re finishing off all this. And maybe we can get to the bottom of why Anders... died.”

Invictus glanced at the crow with sadness. “I’m afraid we need to go home for a while. We need...we need to tell you goodbye love. I hope you can guide us when we return.” 

The crow crooned softly as it shifted slightly on its perch, almost as though agreeing.

“I can take us all back to Orlais,” said Dorian quietly. “We aren’t in the Fade here; I can just open a portal.”

“Wait...if we’re not in the Fade and he’s still changing that means...he’s not … Anders’ spirit.” Fenris finished before he fell over in a faint.

Zevran went still as the bird shifted uneasily. “No,” he whispered. “No, that cannot be.”

Invictus had paled and he looked to be close to joining Fenris on the ground. “Then...if we’re not in the Fade how is he doing that? How is his spirit here?”

“Evidently... Meneris was correct,” said Dorian, not glancing at his husband. “Evidently there is another Anders. And it seems the Witches of the Wilds are not the only ones able to shape-shift.”

“So... perhaps you ought to tell us who you _really_ are,” Cullen said to the bird.

The crow fluttered to the ground, then took human form once more. Anders turned slowly and gave Invictus a nervous smile.

“H-Hello,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. He glanced at Zevran. “P-please don’t be mad at me. This - it wasn’t supposed to happen. Any of it. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m supposed to be dead. Really, truly I am. I’m still not sure why I’m not, to be honest. And I really, really didn’t mean to mislead you - any of you; you were all so kind to me when I couldn’t remember who I was.”

He laughed, the sound slightly tinged with an edge of hysteria. “Funny thing that - I knew a cat once who forgot he was a mage. And I’m now a mage, who forgot he was a bird, who forgot he was a mage. Wait - wait, that sounded funnier in my head, that all just came out wrong -”

“So you’re Arden’s Anders? You said you were supposed to be dead.” Invictus said as he knelt by Fenris.

Anders swallowed hard then nodded. “Yes. I was. I mean, I _am_.” He stared down at Fenris. “Please don’t let him kill me. I really would rather not die.”

“I don’t think he’ll kill you, he knows what it would do to Arden and Hal. Much like losing our Anders has done to us. Why don’t you go on back to them, and we’ll get back via Dorian. I’m sure Arden and Hal are wondering where you’ve gotten off to by now anyway.” Vic said as he brushed Fenris’ hair from his face.

“I... I can’t,” said Anders unhappily. “Everyone at Skyhold knows that he’s dead you see. Hal’s looking after Wynne, and if I show up - like this, not like I was - there’ll be questions, and people might think it’s Justice again and - and there are too many people, and it’ll be easier to be a crow but too easy to forget myself and go _back_ to forgetting again, and that’s like dying all over again too. But I can’t find Arden because I don’t know when he is.”

“Don’t you mean ‘where’?” asked Cullen; Anders shook his head.

“No, _when_ , he isn’t _now_ , and he’s everywhere at once and nowhere and there’s too many of him for me to track down.”

Dorian blinked. “He may have more intelligence to him but he still doesn’t make any bloody sense,” he said slowly. “Wait. When?” He began fiercely swearing as he began frantically passing. “The stupid, idiotic, foolhardy...! Of all the blitheringly dangerous stunts to pull - Arden Hawke, when I get my hands on you I’ll....! I don’t bloody believe it - he wouldn’t. Oh he has, the idiot!”

Cullen watched him, bewildered.

Invictus didn’t pay them any mind, he had his hands full as Fenris came around and started to sit up. “Easy love, you hit the ground kind of hard.”

“Vic...what happened? I swore I heard Anders spirit claim he wasn’t that. What’s going on, I’m confused.” Fenris said as he clutched on to Invictus. 

Anders backed away slowly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” 

He turned and ran. Between one footfall and the next, he took wing, and soared away into the night sky, swiftly winging his way out of sight until all that was left was a single feather upon the ground to show he’d ever been there at all.

“You got your bell rung pretty hard love, we need to get back and resupply. We’ll see Anders and then we can try to sleep. Zevran needs more healing than I can do and you’re barely able to stand.” He helped the elf to his feet and nodded to Dorian. 

“If you don’t mind? I think we all need to go back.” Vic said.

Dorian nodded curtly, his mind already racing both with the magical formulae in his mind needed to open the portal back to the Hawkes’ rooms - and with everything he’d ever mentioned in passing to Arden Hawke about time magic.

They stepped out into the room they’d left days ago, to find Varric Tethras, of all people, sitting in a chair waiting for them. The dwarf looked as though he’d aged ten years since last they’d seen him.

“Hello Hawke; you look about how I feel right now,” said the Viscount of Kirkwall.

“How in the blazes are you here Varric?” Invictus asked as he helped Fenris through the portal and towards their friend.

“Viscount Tethras, I’m guessing you have been informed of Anders’ passing?” Meneris asked.

“Me and everyone else in the whole of Thedas,” Varric nodded. “Speaking of which, I think we rounded up pretty much your entire invite list for the funeral whilst you were gone. They’re all here - Alistair and Anora, the wardens from Vigil’s Keep, most of the nobility from North to South and East to West. Managed to bring along the King of the Anderfels and a bunch of folks that claim they remember Anders, his mother and father before they moved to Ferelden too. We got the present King of Antiva, the Queen of Rivain, half the Nevarran Royal Family - there’s even a bunch of magisters from Tevinter.” He glanced to Dorian and Invictus. “Fiona’s here with a bunch of other First Enchanter types; they’ve all been holed up with the Divine since Arden brought them all back here, talking about what comes next.”

“Oh he did, did he?” said Dorian tersely. “I’d like a word with Arden bloody Hawke!”

Varric halted Dorian with a hand pressed against the magister’s chest. “Hold it right there Sparkler. No-one’s talking to Arden. He exhausted himself ferrying me all over Thedas bringing warning to all the heads of state about the stacks of gaatlok piled up underneath them all. You think this little plot here in Orlais was the only one? The Qunari planned to blow up every form of governance and ruling heads of state and leaders all across Thedas at once. Hell of a take-over plan. Would have worked, too, if Arden hadn’t ferried me everywhere in person. The work went faster once we’d persuaded the First Warden - once we had a bunch of warden mages capable of hopping all over and passing on the warning it was easier, but that still left just us to do Orlais, Ferelden and the Tevinter Empire. All in one day.”

“ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” uttered Dorian, looking horrified. “Where is he?”

“Hal’s with him,” answered Varric. “Come on. I can see you’re going to be beside yourself until you see him for yourself.” He turned and threw a lazy salute in Meneris’ direction. “Good to see you again, Inquisitor, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Same here, we’ll make sure you get rooms and a hot meal before the day is out.” Meneris gave him a similarly lazy greeting.

“Vic, I wanna see him before we rest. I need to say...say goodbye.” Fenris whispered in his husband’s ear. “Then rest.”

Fenris, Invictus and Zevran were escorted to the private chapel. As they entered, their eyes were drawn to the closed casket that rested upon a catafalque at the feet of the statue of Andraste.

“Fenris, Invictus, Zevran. I am so sorry,” said Leliana as she approached them. “This is such a troubled time for us all, but most of all for you, his loved ones.”

“Leliana, please...I just want to see him before I try to rest. I did not get a chance to ...give my farewell before we went through the eluvian. Just allow me this, please.” Fenris asked as he blinked away tears.

“Fenris, it has been nearly four days,” she said quietly. “My friend, you do not wish to see him like that, believe me.” She regarded him sadly. “It is for your own sake I must ask you to reconsider.”

The elf turned to her, eyes dark and sobbing. “Please, he is my husband. I beg of you.”

“Love...perhaps she is right? We’ve had a very hard time of it while trying to track down his killer.” Invictus slid an arm around Fenris and tried to get him to come with him.

“You would deny me as well? I have not had a chance to say farewell!” Fenris sobbed as he curled against Invictus and shook.

Zevran had dropped his gaze to the floor as he lifted a hand to press against the barely-healed cut over his eye, swaying slightly with his own weariness.

“Fenris, please, there is a -” began Leliana.

“Holy Divine,” interrupted the templar in Knight Commander armour who was approaching. “With all due respect, I have to protest - this... please, Holy Mother, have compassion!”

“Knight Commander Hawke, you forget yourself,” said Leliana as she turned to the templar, who was tugging his ceremonial helmet off. He looked at her then turned to Invictus.

“Brother, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my idea,” he said earnestly.

“Carver, I have nothing in me right now for whatever it is you’re talking about. I just need a bath, sleep and to cry into some wine for a while.” Vic said tiredly.

Fenris still sobbed in Invictus’ arms, loud sniffles as he carried on.

“What is going on here?” Meneris asked, his voice sharper than usual with his friend.

“Tell them!” said Carver desperately. “Tell them, or I will!”

“Ser Hawke, you forget yourself!” snapped Leliana.

“He... is not dead,” whispered Zevran softly.

Fenris turned at Zevran’s words. “You saw him die in Vic’s arms. Do not do this to me, my heart cannot take it.” he begged.

“I did,” Zevran nodded. “But there is something here... something strange....” The Antivan pulled away and began to walk towards the coffin in a daze.

“Zevran! He has lain there for nearly four days!” called Leliana.

“You think me a stranger to the smell of death, Leliana?” he called back as he continued walking towards the coffin.

Fenris watched from his place in Invictus' arms, unsure what Zevran was on about.

The Antivan reached the coffin and without hesitation, reached to open it. 

The stench of decay reached them, nauseating and foul even over the smell of incense. Zevran seemed unaffected by it however as he reached down into the coffin.

“Zevran! Do not do this!” cried Leliana.

Zevran was still for several moments, then abruptly he leaned back and shut the lid of the coffin. He stalked back down the nave of the chapel, and his eyes glittered dangerously.

“That is not Anders.” He glared at Carver. “What have you done with him?”

Invictus glared at his sibling then Leliana. "Where is he?"

Carver stared at Leliana. “You have to tell them.” As she remained silent, he cried out, “They have to know!”

She turned away. “Show them. Them, but no-one else. No-one can know.”

“What's going on?” Fenris asked.

“Yes, tell us, brother,” Vic said.

“Come with me,” said Carver. “I’ll... I’ll take you to him.” He swallowed hard then led them from the chapel.

He moved to a side alcove, reached in and tugged at the torch sconce. A hidden door opened, and he took them down a side hall and to a flight of stairs that led down until they must have been down at the level of the wine cellars, and then down a long passageway.

“It was me who found him,” explained Carver as they walked. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m guessing it was something about the dagger. It was the evening after you all went through the eluvian. I sent for Leliana when I found him there like this.”

Invictus had his hands full with Fenris while Zevran followed along, once more as silent as he'd been since they'd gone through the Eluvian days earlier. "Why isn't his body in the casket? Carver, what's going on?" Vic asked tiredly.

Carver paused before a door and produced a key. “His body isn’t in the casket because - because he’s... not....” Carver’s voice faltered, then he unlocked the door. “Because he’s safer here.”

He unlocked the door and gestured to them.

Invictus scowled as they went into the room, still confused by their behaviour when he had no patience. "Carver, you have two minutes to explain or I'm going to start punching you like when we were kids. I've no time for this."

Fenris was silent, his gaze on the floor as he was guided into the room. "Where is he, Vic?"

“He’s in the room ahead,” said Carver, his voice hushed. “You can’t stay too long - not just now. Just... just wait here a moment.” He went ahead and let himself into the room he’d indicated; the hallway was lit up with light and a wash of warmth from a cheery fire for a moment as he spoke quietly to someone. Then he turned and beckoned.

As they entered the room, they found themselves in a warm, comfortable room with a thick plush carpet underfoot and bookshelves lining the walls. There was a table with chairs, and two comfortable-looking chairs either side of the warm fire.

The room was dominated by the large bed of Ferelden style. A nurse was sat beside the bed; as they entered, she rose and curtseyed to them before letting herself out through another door.

They only had eyes for the man in the bed however.

It was Anders.

Invictus dropped his hold on Fenris and started to go towards the bed. He was sure he wasn't seeing things properly. Anders had died in in his arms, not a week before. He reached out, the other mage’s name on his lips as he staggered, then fell to his knees.

Fenris caught himself before he could hit the ground, but when he saw Anders, or someone who looked like their husband but alive, he started to laugh hysterically, pointing as he slid down the wall he'd leaned against. Soon his laughter turned to broken sobbing and muttering in Tevene that he'd finally lost his mind.

Anders’ eyes slowly flickered open as he drew a slow, laboured breath. “F-Fenris?” he murmured weakly.

"No... I've lost it, something happened in the Fade and I've lost it. They said you died in Vic arms...I can't take this, I can't," Fenris rasped as he tried to rise, but the sound of his name pushed him off the edge, his knees giving way as he hit the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

“Fenris? Carver... where ...” Anders’ voice was faint and wheezy.

“Easy now, Anders, just rest. Yes, Fenris is here, and Vic and Zevran too - and the Inquisitor. They’re all here,” said Carver as he moved forward to take Anders’ pale white hand. “Don’t strain yourself, just - just lie still.”

“Vic? Where... I don’t see....” Anders sounded bewildered.

"Anders? How? How is this possible?” Vic asked as he made he way to the bed and reached for Anders’ hands.

“Vic... oh Vic....” Anders smiled tremulously, his eyes slowly filling with tears as he stared into Invictus’ eyes. “She brought me back. She brought me back to you.”

Zevran took a stumbling step towards the bed. “ _Mi amore_ ,” he whispered.

“Zevran,” wheezed Anders as he stretched a hand towards him then winced, clutching at his chest over the soft white bandages swathed about his torso. “Fenris... where is Fenris?”

“He tires easily,” murmured Carver. “You won’t be able to stay long.”

Invictus held Anders’ hands in his, grateful for the miracle that had given him back. "Who brought you back?"

“Andraste,” smiled Anders beatifically as he closed his eyes. “She gave me back to you. Wasn’t ready to die.”

“We’re not sure what to make of that,” confided Carver very quietly. “I mean... _Andraste_. But it’s all he replies, when anyone asks him. Says She gave him back, and it wasn’t his time to die.”

"I guess faith paid off," Vic said quietly. "Fenris is chosen of Mythal and now this."

Zevran turned slowly to Meneris. “Perhaps we were all wrong, Inquisitor,” he said with a faintly troubled smile, his eyes slightly glazed over and dazed. “Did we have a herald of Andraste with us after all?” Meneris steadied the Antivan with a hand to his shoulder as Zevran swayed, his head drooping.

Carver looked around at them all. “No-one can know,” he said earnestly. “Everyone thinks he’s dead now. He - you can all start over. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? To go off and live quietly together?” He stared around at them. “Look - Vic - I know I was always a bit of a prick and a prat around you, and I’ll admit there were a lot of times I fucked up. Just - let me do this for you. You told me to keep him safe and I have - I will. Only Divine Victoria, Sister Rosa and I know he’s here. We’ll help you - only you have to make everyone believe he’s still dead. That assassin’s still out there, Maker knows who else - they _can’t_ know he’s still alive! It’s a second chance for you all - do you see?”

Zevran lifted his head and stared dazedly at Carver. “You think... you think he is your salvation, Ser Templar?” He began to weakly chuckle, before he swayed and then began to collapse to the ground. Meneris caught him gently then slowly lowered the Antivan to the floor.

“Zev... Zevran... no, please tell me he’s alright?” whispered Anders anxiously.

“He’s exhausted, as is Fenris. I think we should get them something to drink and rejuvenation potions. It’s alright Anders, just sit back, and let us help.” Meneris said as he rolled his jacket up and put it under Zevran’s head.

Fenris was still where he landed, sprawled out against the carpet and not moving. If it weren’t for the slight rise of his chest, he might have been thought dead as well.

“Fenris... please, I need to see him too,” pleaded Anders. “Tell me he’s alright?” He rolled his head upon the pillow, eyes casting about the room for the white-haired warrior, the hand resting over his heart plucking distractedly at the white bandages. He made as if to rise, but Carver laid a gentle hand on his shoulder to check him. 

“Calm down Anders, don’t upset yourself again, please!” urged Carver gently. “You know what happens when you over-exert yourself.”

“But I can’t see him,” protested Anders. “Vic - go to him, tell me he’s alright?”

“Sure love, sure.” Invictus went over to Fenris and got him sitting up but not awake. 

“Fenris, come on. Please open your eyes and let Anders see you. He’s back with us, a miracle love. It’s a damned miracle but he needs you too, please wake up.” Invictus begged as he turned the elf’s face towards him and tried to a response.

“He’s out cold, I this was too much for him after our jaunt and all that happened to us.” Meneris said as he sat next to his Spymaster.

Anders gave a soft little choking sob and Carver turned and tapped on the door Sister Rosa had disappeared through. She reappeared and took in Anders’ distress at a glance and hurried over to a side table, fetching a small round flask and pouring out a dose of a dark red liquid which she brought to the distressed mage.

“It’s all going to be alright,” she said in a low soothing voice. “Come on, Anders - it’s time for your medicine, alright? It will help.” She slipped an arm behind his shoulders and carefully lifted him enough for him to take the medicine; he drank it obediently.

“I’m tapped out of mana, or I’d try to get him to come around that way. Can someone fetch us potions Carver? Afraid my hands are full right now.” Invictus said as he held Fenris to his chest, and tried to get the elf to respond.

Anders’ eyes were glazing over as Sister Rosa laid him down. “If you’ll just wait a moment, ser, we have potions here - the next room is our apothecary store. There are a few vials of lyrium as well, if they will serve? Oh, there - he’s almost asleep. Poor thing - he tires so easily, though really it truly is a miracle that the Lady Andraste restored him to us. He must be a very pious and faithful servant of the Maker.” She smiled fondly as she brushed a stray lock out of Anders’ eyes, the mage steadily succumbing to sleep.

“Andraste really brought him back?” Invictus asked as he rubbed a thumb over Fenris’ cheek and hoped the elf would come around. He was frightened that he was going to be in shock or worse whenever he did open his eyes. Sister Rosa had bustled into the apothecary to fetch potions.

Carver shrugged. “Brother, I know I’m a templar but - I honestly don’t know what to think. The evening that you all chased off through the eluvian, about four hours after the dagger was removed from his chest and he’d been laid in state in the chapel, Sister Rosa and I went to do the anointing and offerings for the evening. We found him sleeping, his face wet with tears - his breathing and pulse were very weak, but he was definitely alive. Rosa ran to fetch Divine Victoria who ordered us to bring him down here and tend to him.” 

He sighed and stared down at the sleeping Anders. “When we removed the robe, the wound through his heart was healed, barely. At first he only wakened slightly every few hours or so - enough to get some water and healing potions into him. He’s spending slightly longer periods lucid but he’s still incredibly weak, and any over-exertion - trying to sit up, getting upset, even coughing - leaves him in tremendous pain. Spirit Healers are supposed to have some sort of accelerated healing ability, but it’s as if his has - I don’t know, exhausted itself somehow, just keeping him alive. Sister Rosa tried to explain it to me, but... well.” He ran a hand through his hair ruefully. “You know me, brother - I never was very good at things that couldn’t be solved just by whacking them hard enough.”

“It’s alright, don’t care about how he’s here. I’m just grateful he’s still here. I just hope I can pull off proper grief knowing he’s still with us. I’m worried about Fenris too, he’s out cold and not responding to me at all.”

“Look - about the acting bit,” said Carver as he came to crouch down next to his brother and the two comatose elves. “Funerals - well, they’re very emotionally charged, y’know? I’ve had to stand honour guard on a few since I joined the templars, and Maker - even the ones where I didn’t know the person, I was affected all the same. There’s still a body in that coffin, and everyone else is going to think it’s Anders. That poor blighter’s going to get a right royal send-off - not bad for some dead drunk that the Divine’s agents found in an alley somewhere, hey?” He chuckled wrily. “But that’s not important - what is, is that everyone’s going to believe it’s Anders. And his kid’s going to be there, and _she’ll_ believe it’s her dad. You think you can’t put on a show of grief? Just look at her. I swear everyone else will be watching, and Maker - when the kids start crying, it’s all _I_ can do not to cry. Just think of the poor girl sobbing her heart out and trust me - that and remembering how he died in your arms....” 

Carver shook his head and clapped Invictus on the arm encouragingly. “You’ll manage it, brother. Believe me. Tomorrow morning, you’ll see.”

“What’s tomorrow morning?” Vic asked before he shifted to hold Fenris more comfortably. “Maker, he’s heavy.”

“I believe visitation for the Grand Enchanter begins then ser Hawke?” Meneris asked quietly.

Carver nodded. “All the visiting dignitaries will pay their last respects to the body of the Grand Enchanter. As his surviving next of kin, you’ll be expected to receive them, along with his daughter and his apprentice. You’ll find once you get through that, you’ll be too keyed up and grief-stricken to be anything but authentic for the funeral - that’s the day after tomorrow. I’d suggest that you don’t come to see Anders for those two days - it’ll throw you out and he’ll pick up on your mood and it’ll be bad all round. We’ll keep him sleeping as much as possible so he doesn’t get distressed asking for you. And once the funeral’s over, no-one would question it if you all kept to yourselves - everyone will assume you’re all in mourning anyway.”

He sighed. “It’s going to be tough, but you’re strong, Vic. You can do this. I’ll be there during the visitation and the funeral after - it’s my duty to stand the honour vigil overnight and keep guard until the committal to the flame after.”

Invictus nodded, his eyes closing as he held Fenris. “I know, I know. What will we do once the funeral is over? Where can we go without letting the truth out?” he asked softly.

“Nevarra, Rivain, Antiva? Even the far reaches of Ferelden?” Meneris said as he sat back and stretched his legs. “Fenris was already working on a plan in case the Inquisition disbanded, so you have somewhere to go.” 

Zevran stirred slightly. “Nevarra,” he murmured. “He wanted to go to Nevarra. We promised... promised before he died....” His eyelids fluttered and he lifted a hand shakily to press it to his forehead over the recently-healed scar. “Dizzy.”

“Lie still Zevran, you’ve taken a couple nasty hits while we were traveling. Rest, and be still for a while longer.” Meneris urged as he gently brushed the Antivan’s hand away from his scar. Zevran turned his head slightly and managed to open his eyes enough to stare at Meneris, his eyes glazed. 

“Such gentle hands for a warrior,” he murmured. “Dorian is a lucky man, I am thinking. You are a lucky man to be married. I too am married and therefore a lucky man....” He smiled drowsily.

“Here we are,” said Sister Rosa as she returned with a tray of flasks. “The red ones are a blend of elfroot and a rejuvenation potion, the amber ones just straight rejuvenation, and there’s a vial of lyrium for you, First Enchanter Hawke.” She set the tray down within hand’s reach of Invictus.

“Thank you sister, if I could bother you to uncork a red potion for me?” Hawke gave her a smile that was more like the Champion than a rather exhausted man with his hands full of ennervated elf.

“I’ll take a rejuvenation potion for our spymaster, Sister.” Meneris said. She was uncorking one of the augmented potions for Invictus; as she handed it to him, she glanced at Zevran with a professional eye then reached for one of the red potions instead of an amber one. 

“Inquisitor, this man evidently has a concussion - the scar on his forehead looks very recent.” She uncorked the red potion and turned to administer it carefully to Zevran herself. The Antivan regarded her with amusement but drank the potion before reaching out for her hand suddenly and bestowing a kiss upon the back of her hand.

“Such a charming nurse,” he smiled, then winked at her as she coloured slightly.

“Ser Elf, I’ll thank you to behave yourself!” she admonished as she reclaimed her hand, but a small smile played upon her lips as she turned to open one of the amber potions for Invictus.

Zevran chuckled as he lay back and closed his eyes again.

“Rapscallion.” Meneris said fondly before leaning back against the bed and closing his eyes.

“Thank you Sister.” Vic said as he took it and got Fenris’ mouth open enough to feed him the potion. “Come on love, swallow.” 

Fenris was unresponsive for several minutes before he finally swallowed, his eyelids fluttering though he didn’t open his eyes. Beside him, Zevran appeared to be on the verge of drifting into exhausted sleep in spite of the potion, though thankfully he had a little more colour in his face beneath the mask of blood.

“Andraste, you brought Anders back, maybe you can get my other husband to at least look at me? Mythal maybe if you’re busy?” Invictus asked plaintively.

“I don’t think Mythal will hear you First Enchanter, you’re only human.” Meneris said with a slight grin. “He probably knocked himself out when he hit the floor. Maybe you should try healing magic?”

Carver grinned at his brother. “My brother isn’t exactly thinking straight right now,” he pointed out. “He’s the most functional of all of them, but that’s not really saying much.” He reached for the lyrium potion, uncorked it, then handed it to Invictus.

“Don’t sass me, I’m not in the mood for it. Not after the time we’ve had and seeing Fenris probably hit his breaking point.” Vic said as he took the potion, and letting his magic flow through his husband. 

“Oh, come on, Vic,” grinned Carver. “We both know you’re in no fit state to knock me on my arse right now. Let me enjoy it whilst I can, eh? It’s not often it’s _me_ who’s the smarter one, after all.” His expression turned more serious. “Besides, I know how tough it’s going to be for you. Can you blame me for wanting to -” He turned away. “No, y’know what? We’re too old for these games. Both of us. It’s the same old crap and maybe I’m tired of the fighting. I saw how you were when we all thought Anders was dead, and I - Maker, I don’t want to have to carry _your_ corpse to a bier someday, Invictus. Maybe it’s not always about you. Maybe I’m scared for my big brother sometimes.” He got to his feet and turned away.

“I’ve always been scared for you brother, forgive me if I’m not at my best right now.” Vic sniffed and wiped a tear away before he focused on Fenris again, his mind preoccupied with the injuries the elf had taken.

Carver glanced back, a look of regret in his eyes. “Brother. Let me be the strong one for once. Let me help you. I’m not a kid any more. It’s OK to lean on me.”

“Once I get him together, maybe I can cry on your shoulder? I’ve not ...I’ve not had a chance to deal with anything yet and now finding him alive? I’m surprised I’m not with Fenris now, out cold.” Vic said softly, his gaze falling back to his husband. “Why won’t he wake up?”

“Maybe he just needs to sleep it off,” shrugged Carver. “The shock, you know?”

“Maybe but it’s scaring me to see him so still and quiet. That laughter, he’s only done that a couple times before and it’s always been before he’s had a bad spiral or gone into a full tilt rage. He knows how strong he is, and it scares him, more than us. I’m scared he’s going to think he’s finally lost his mind with all we went though recently.” Vic pressed a kiss to Fenris’ temple then laid him down next to Zevran. 

“Look - Sister Rosa, go up to the chapel and make sure it’s empty, then guard the door,” suggested Carver. “We need to get Fenris and Zevran out of here but you’re going to need help to get them to their rooms. Vic, you and I can get Fenris up to the chapel between us, then you stay with him whilst I come back and the Inquisitor and I can bring Zevran up. We’ll lay them out and then I’ll call for help - we can tell people they passed out with the stress of saying goodbye to Anders. No-one will question it. Get them back to your rooms and let them sleep it off, alright?”

Sister Rosa got to her feet, bobbed a curtsey then hurried away back up the hidden secret staircase. Carver sighed. 

“Right. Let’s get going, and pray we can all pull this off....”


	39. Chapter 39

The visitation was every bit as bad as Carver had warned Invictus of, and indeed worse. If he’d had any doubts at all about their ability to keep up the act, they were gone by the end of the first hour. Ellowynne had expended her tears the previous evening and that morning all that was left was a bewildered stoicism which was somehow even harder to take than the inconsolable sobbing had been. 

Fenris was upright only by the grace of potions and a rejuvenation spell cast on him before the visitation began. He held on to Pin’s hand, greeting people as they offered condolences but he wanted to lie down and be left alone more than anything. He blinked as someone kept calling his name as they tried to give him a glass of water.

“Fenris do you need to sit down for a while? You look like you’re ready to drop,” Meneris asked quietly.

Pin returned the Inquisitor’s stare almost challengingly before she leaned in to her father’s side and murmured to him in Tevene, asking him if he needed to step out for a moment. Unlike the Dalish elf, she was well aware of the effect any sign of weakness in front of those few Tevinter magisters in attendance would have - mostly on Fenris himself. The white-haired warrior seemed to come back to himself at the sound of their native tongue, and after a moment his brows drew together in a frown as his eyes focused on the Inquisitor.

“That... will not be necessary,” he managed.

Meneris stepped away, full of misgivings but unwilling to push the matter. Fenris was flanked by his children and he would have to trust to them to put their father’s well-being first.

Zevran’s eyes still held a dazed expression, the Antivan still suffering the effects of his concussion. Doubtless many of those cautiously offering him their condolences thought him profoundly affected by shock.

There was nothing cautious at all however in the way Nathaniel and Velanna led a group of Grey Wardens up the aisle then took it in turn to fling their arms about him. Though he had never taken the Joining, it was quite evident that the Wardens of Vigil’s Keep considered him a Warden in all but name. They were unashamed of their tears as they paid their respects to the closed casket.

Nathaniel halted in front of Ellowynne and turned to Sigrun as he dropped to one knee before the child. He gestured, and Sigrun handed him a folded bundle of cloth in royal blue. Nathaniel turned to Ellowynne, who regarded him gravely.

“Ellowynne Andersdottir Hawke, I was proud to call your father a friend, a companion for a time, and a fellow Grey Warden. He will always be held in high esteem by those of our order, and as befits his rank I give to you the flag of the Grey Wardens.”

As she took it, Nathaniel stepped back and saluted her and the casket as the other wardens lined up behind him. Together they chanted, call and response, as Nathaniel led them, the room growing still and hushed.

“In War...”  
“ _Victory._ ”  
“In Peace...”  
“ _Vigilance._ ”  
“In Death....”  
“ _Sacrifice._ ”

Grave-faced, Ellowynne mimicked their salute, her small fist crossed over her chest, clenched over her heart. As one, they bowed before her, before turning and marching from the chapel.

Invictus felt his throat grow tight as his eyes stung. He had thought all his tears shed; he had been wrong. Had he not known that Anders lived and breathed in that hidden room below, he didn’t think he could have handled it.

Fenris squeezed Callus’ and Pin’s hands once, then tried to give one of the Nevarran delegates his attention. “Apologies, it’s been a long day of receiving people’s condolences. Thank you for being here,” he said as he took the other man’s hand.

People parted as the King and Queen of Ferelden approached. Alistair awkwardly hugged Zevran, murmuring something in the elf’s ear; Zevran nodded then smiled sadly as Alistair straightened, tears in his eyes. Anora had knelt down in front of Ellowynne and asked her something; shyly the young girl nodded then tentatively gave her a hug.

Alistair moved on to Fenris and gave him a sad half-smile as he held out a hand to shake Fenris’ hand. “Frightful business,” the King said awkwardly. “I, ah, I knew Anders. Not - not as well as I would have liked, he was... well, a bit after my time in the Wardens, but... he seemed a decent chap. It was me who allowed him to be conscripted into the Wardens - did he ever tell you? Templars were after him. Couldn’t allow that, so....” He sighed. “I’m very sorry.” He glanced back the way the Wardens had gone then turned back. “That - that was good of Nathaniel. To honour him like that.”

Fenris nodded stiffly.

Alistair and Anora moved on to Invictus. “Ah, Hawke - we met in Kirkwall once. Well, briefly,” said Alistair. “I wish we could become reacquainted under better circumstances.” He sighed. 

“We’ve given orders that Anders’ reform of the Circles is to begin at once,” said Anora. “Beginning with Kinloch. It seems the most fitting tribute we could offer - that his vision live on.”

Invictus could only bow stiffly and utter a quiet “Thank you, your Majesties.”

Anora smiled understandingly then slipped her arm through that of her husband to lead him away before he could say anything further.

Invictus exhaled slowly then retreated to a seat in the back of the chapel so he could take a breather and get away from well wishes from people who had called for Anders’ head when he was known to have joined the Inquisition.

Dorian glanced to Meneris, then approached Ellowynne. Dropping to one knee before her, he leaned forward to murmur something in her ear. She nodded and handed him the Grey Warden flag, and he rose to spread it over the coffin before stepping back. Meneris could see the magister’s adam’s apple bob as Dorian swallowed hard, then he saluted Ellowynne and the coffin as the other Wardens had done before moving on to Fenris. 

To the stifled gasps of some of the Tevinter guests, he crossed his arms over his heart and then bowed low before the elf - as one equal to another, and spoke clearly, “ _Amicus._ ” Then he turned to Zevran and repeated the bow, as he murmured, “My friend.”

He glanced to Invictus, blinking tears from his eyes, and repeated the gesture then mouthed silently, _I am so sorry._ Then he turned away to rejoin Meneris.

Pin glanced to her father, then released his hand as she walked to Dorian. She embraced him, and Meneris heard her whisper, “Thank you so much. That means so much to him - to us all.” She stepped back, and he bowed to her.

“My Lady,” he replied gently. She smiled, and returned to her father.

As she took his hand once more, she whispered in Tevene, “ _Be strong, Father. You do Anders so much credit._ ”

“ _I can only do so much Pin, it’s been hours of this. I need a break, I don’t care anymore. I can’t take one more person giving me condolences that didn’t know him in life. Besides, the potions I took earlier are wearing off, I need food and another round if I’m to make it until dinner,_ ” Fenris replied, whispering in her ear before he straightened again.

“ _Cal,_ ” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “ _Get ready to catch Zevran. I’m going to clear away this crowd of vultures._ ”

He darted her a glance, then very slightly nodded.

Fenris felt a very subtle tug of magic - the merest whisper across his brands, as a stray breeze stirred Pin’s hair. A moment later, Zevran began to collapse to the ground in a dead faint. Callus caught him easily as there was a ripple of alarm and scattered gasps.

Carver strode forward hastily. “My lords and ladies, I must ask you all to leave the chapel forthwith - he needs air and a healer. I’m sure you all understand and will have forbearance!”

Within a few minutes, they, the Inquisitor and Dorian were the only people in the chapel as one of the Chantry Sisters sprinted off in search of a healer.

“Sorry, Father - it was the only thing I could think of to get everyone out as quickly as possible, and Zevran really needs a complete rest,” Pin apologised.

“It’s ok, you’re a good girl,” Fenris said before he sat in a pew.

Invictus helped get some water for Zevran and as Callus laid the unconscious elf down upon the pew, he put Zevran’s head in his lap as he tried to rouse the elf. Fenris gently rested Zevran’s feet in his lap then closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Pin grimaced. “He won’t wake for a while - I got a little healing sprite to quietly put him to sleep. He really needed it I think.”

“Pin,” said Ellowynne as she wandered over behind the older girl. “I’m really tired too. Can I go lie down? My head really hurts.”

“Oh Imp,” she murmured. “Of course you can.” She glanced up at her father and Invictus. “I’d best get her back to our room. I’ll stay with her.”

“I’d feel better if someone went with you. Dorian do you mind?” Vic asked.

“Not at all,” replied Dorian as he moved to stand beside Pin and smiled gently down at Ellowynne. The young girl took hold of Pin’s hand; Pin glanced to her brother.

“Cal, look after Father? Come find me later.” She smiled a little tremulously.

“Of course sister, I’ll get him to their rooms once Invictus can help me with Spymaster Hawke.” Callus said as she left.

“No need to be so formal Cal. We’re all a bit ragged around the edges and this was just the visitation,” Vic said tiredly.

“Sorry, I’ve been on guard all day; it’s hard to stop.” Callus nudged at his father gently. “Papa, can you make it to your rooms?” 

Fenris groaned slightly and gave his son a blank stare for a moment. “Yes, you two take Zevran.”

As Invictus and Callus began to gently lift Zevran, the Antivan groaned then murmured something incoherent. Suddenly he said aloud, quite clearly and distinctly, “No... I knew, knew he couldn’t be, the bird - the white bird told us....” Whatever the white bird had said, it was lost as he became incoherent again then dropped back into deep sleep once more.

“I’ll strengthen the sleep spell once we get him down,” Vic said before he picked the elf up and asked Callus to take his staff. The youth stepped back and nodded as he picked it up, then glanced back to the coffin.

“It’s alright,” said Carver, nodding to him. “I’ll stand watch here. He... he won’t be left alone.”

“Your southern customs make little sense to me,” confessed Callus with a shrug. “Back in Tevinter, he’d have been committed to fire at dusk the same day he died. I don’t understand the point of torturing his loved ones with this farce - let alone twice when we’ll have to go through the whole thing again tomorrow. I can’t believe Anders would have wanted any of them to go through this, much less his daughter.”

“It’s not the Dalish way either,” shrugged Meneris. “But it’s how they do things here.”

“To be honest - and you didn’t hear me say this,” confided Carver, “I agree with you. But they do these things for a reason, even if it’s not always apparent. The Wardens would never have had a chance to say goodbye, for instance.”

“I suppose,” said Callus grudgingly. “Still seems wrong though.”

“Cal, it’s hard enough, please drop it,” Fenris said as he fell in next to his son. 

“Sorry, Papa,” replied Callus, chastened.

Fenris was quiet all the way back to their room, where he slowly pulled off the dark jacket, shirt and black pants. He slipped on sleep pants and laid out, reaching for Zevran once Invictus put him next to him.

Zevran’s eyes flickered briefly open then slid shut as he made a faint sound of protest and rolled onto his side towards Fenris, before beginning to very softly snore. Fenris blinked. He’d very rarely known the other elf to snore, though he was familiar with Anders’ rather noisy tendency in that regard.

“He’s exhausted, he rarely sounds like that.Does he need anything besides a potion?” Callus asked his father.

“He needs sleep, as do I.” Fenris replied.

As he spoke, they heard a door open and close out in the parlour shared by all the rooms in the suite, and then a low sigh. As Fenris glanced through the open door of the bedroom he saw Hal pause to stretch, trying to unkink his back.

“Hal, can you do us a favor and put Zevran under for a while? The stress of the visitation got to him.” Fenris asked quietly.

“Oh - certainly, of course!” replied the healer as he walked into the bedroom. He stared down at the Antivan elf as he made his way around the bed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t present; Arden isn’t really in a fit state to leave for more than perhaps half an hour at a time.” He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to gently press two fingertips to Zevran’s forehead over the scar. 

Fenris felt the soothing whisper of Hal’s magic tug at his brands as the healer pushed Zevran deeper into a healing sleep, then his fingers glowed blue as Hal set about healing up the scar. “He has a rather nasty concussion,” he remarked in a slightly distracted tone of voice. “You gave him healing potions, I can see - let me just heal up the last remnants of damage and inflammation.” He closed his eyes as he carefully felt through the rest of the elf’s body, seeking out all the damage - the bruises, contusions and lacerations still lingering from their journey through the eluvians. He winced suddenly. “Oh, nasty - _three_ broken ribs? And only half-healed, too! No wonder he wasn’t coping too well - being unable to take a deep breath comfortably won’t have helped.”

Finally he sat back. “There. Between my sleep spell and the healing, he should be out for a good six hours at least. Make sure he eats a good hearty meal when he awakens, and then sleep again.” 

The redhead glanced around at Fenris and Invictus. “So... if Zevran was in that bad a state, do I want to know just how bad you two are?”

“I took enough potions to numb me, and if you don’t mind I’m going to drink and then pass out.” Fenris admitted.

“I’m numb but I’ve had major losses before, but not like this.” Vic said.

Hal regarded them both with sympathetic eyes as he rose to his feet. “I’m afraid there’s sadly nothing my magic can do for this kind of pain,” he sighed. “But perhaps I can ease any physical injuries either of you still have. Though Maker, I wish I could heal what truly hurts you both. But I’m afraid there’s only one who could - and I am not the Maker.”

“I know Hal, I know. Join us in a drink to salute our lost love?” Vic asked.

“Gladly,” he replied with a sad smile. He walked out into the parlour to find bottles and glasses, then returned and set out a bottle of whisky and another of brandy. “It’s Antivan - a new bottle. I guess someone made an effort for Zevran. There’s another two bottles in there as well; I thought perhaps Zevran might forgive us for starting this one without him.” He smiled a little self-consciously.

“I’m sure he won’t mind Hal, and right now drink is the last thing he needs.” Vic said. “Love you want to join us?” he asked Fenris.

Hal handed the glasses to Invictus as he set about opening the bottle of brandy, breaking the wax seal before he set to work with a corkscrew. He glanced to Fenris and held up the bottle in mute query.

The elf got up and held his hand out for a glass mutely, the circles under his eyes belied how exhausted he was. “Thank you.” 

Hal filled a glass for Fenris, then served Invictus before finally pouring a glass for himself. Setting the bottle down, he lifted his glass. “To Anders, the finest healer I’ve ever known - may he rest well.”

Fenris couldn’t speak, he merely raised his glass then swallowed half in one long go. He held the glass out for more, his gaze away from the two of them.

Hal refilled his glass swiftly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Maker, I’ve no idea how many times you must have heard that word today - but I truly am. I feel honoured to have known Anders - both in my own world and here in this one. With my own Anders being so childlike - in a way, it’s like losing Anders twice; once as a lover, and now again as a friend and mentor. I’ll never match up to him as a healer, even though I’m a spirit healer. I’ve - I’ve asked my spirit if she can feel Anders yet, but she is only a small spirit of Hope and doesn’t really wander far from me.” He glanced to them both apologetically.

Fenris glanced at Invictus then back to his glass without a word. He was in a bad place to speak of spirits and death. 

“Perhaps we can speak of her later?” Vic gently asked.

“If - if you like,” replied Hal, a little startled. “I don’t think anyone else has ever actually asked me about her before, apart from Anders - and my tutor in Creation and Spirit magic back in the Gallows, before I was made Tranquil.”

“When things are over, and none of us are feeling so delicate, then we can talk of Hope more. Right now I think Fenris needs to lie down.” Vic said with a nod at his elven husband.

Hal glanced at Fenris, then set his glass aside as he moved to stand beside Fenris. He gently wrapped his arms around the tall elf’s waist then laid his head on Fenris’ shoulder. “Would you like me to help you to sleep too?” he asked quietly. “What do you need, Fenris? If it’s in my power to give, then it’s yours.” He turned his head to press a soft kiss to the warrior’s shoulder, between swirls of lyrium.

“I’m going to lie with Zevran, I don’t care who but one of you can put me to sleep. I need natural sleep if I’m going to spend another drugged out on potions so I don’t lose myself.” Fenris finished his drink and nuzzled against Hal. 

“Alright love, then I will send you under,” replied Hal gently before leaning in to bestow a light kiss upon Fenris’ lips.

“Thanks” Fenris couldn’t bring himself to return the young mage’s affection. He flopped on his back and waited for sleep to come.

Hal stared down at him sadly before he pressed two fingers to Fenris’ forehead and sent him under with a brief push of magic. Then he stepped back and turned to retrieve his glass of brandy before lifting his eyes to Invictus. “Forgive me if I... if I overstepped a boundary there,” he said, dropping his gaze as he cradled his glass in his hands. “I... I couldn’t....” He sighed softly. “I’m sorry. I know only too well that I am not the healer he wants or needs right now. I could only ever be a poor substitute at best.”

“It’s fine, just understand he might not be able to return the emotion for a while.” Vic said as he held the glass in his hands, considering how he felt which wasn’t great.

“I understand,” nodded Hal. He finally lifted his eyes to Invictus again. “And you? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Be a friend to us, help Fenris as he grieves. He’s in such a bad place I don’t know if he’ll hear what I have to say as we move forward. I fear he and Zevran may wish to join Anders.” Vic admitted.

Hal’s eyes widened, and then tears filled his eyes. “No... oh, no! Not them too!” He pressed a hand over his mouth as a tear rolled down his cheek and he silently shook his head.

“Zevran has lost too many lovers, and he was especially fond of Anders. Their bond grew tighter after we wed. I’m going to keep an eye on both of them.” Vic said.

“I’m - Maker, I keep saying this word but there truly are no others... I’m sorry, this is going to come across as incredibly selfish but - Invictus, I already lost Fenris in my world, and Anders too. Tomorrow I’ll be saying my own farewell to Anders along with half of Thedas, it seems - but I cannot bare to think of losing Fenris here as well! Coming after everything else - the Bull, everything we’ve been through... I can’t. I... I can’t bear to even think about it!” The tears were streaming down Hal’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m being so self-centred but - but they can’t, he _mustn’t_! What - what about Pin and Callus, what about Ellowynne? What about _you_?”

Vic pulled the young mage into his arms and was glad that Hal couldn’t see him. “I’m sure they wouldn’t do that, I’m just worried. Forget I said anything ok? Tomorrow is going to be hard enough without my thoughtlessness. Come on, I’m sorry.” 

“Forgive me, you don’t need to be distracted by my selfishness,” sobbed Hal. “I just - Maker, I’m missing Anders so much right now - I think part of me just always thought he would always be there, and now - now he’s gone. He taught me so much more about healing than I ever learned in the Circle, but I just _know_ there was more I could have learned from him, and now it’s gone. And he was a friend as well as a teacher, and I just hate seeing Fenris in such pain but - but-”

He glanced up at Invictus, and it was suddenly painfully obvious to the older mage just how young Hal truly was. “Is it selfish of me to want him to live, because it would hurt me too much if he died?” he whispered.

“Not at all, not at all Hal.” Vic said shakily before he sat back and rubbed at his face. “I should check on the children before I try and sleep, can you show me where they are?” 

Hal nodded as he stepped away, wiping at his face with a hand. “They’re - they’re quite near by, just - just a couple of doors down,” he said. “Let me just go wash my face; I’m a bit of a mess and I don’t want to upset Ellowynne or Marian.”

“Same here, and I want to put on something more comfortable.” Vic finished his drink before he put on a tunic and leggings, eager to be in bed with his elven spouses though duty called.

“Let me check on Arden and splash some water on my face,” nodded Hal. He attempted to give Invictus a brief smile but it didn’t reach his eyes, which were still red and bright with tears. He turned and hurried off into the small bedroom.

Invictus sat on the edge of the bed, his mind on how to deal with the funeral, not slipping and telling Hal and keeping Fenris from going to pieces. He wasn’t convinced the elf believed what they’d seen after returning. The way he spoke, it was as if he was sure Anders was gone, and planned to join him soon. He was so deep in thought, he didn’t hear Hal’s return.

Hal waited quietly, unwilling to interrupt Invictus when he seemed so deep in thought. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and focused on deep, even breaths, working to keep himself from giving in to tears again.

Invictus didn’t move until he noticed Hal’s fidgeting. “Sorry, my mind was wandering. Let’s go.”

Hal nodded. “You have a lot on your mind,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s better to do so, or I’ll get stuck in a bad spiral. I’m trying to hold it together until after the funeral, then we’re going to stay to ourselves and let this bullshit council figure itself out. If the Inquisition stays together, I’m recommending you as First Enchanter. I can’t stay, not when I have them to take care of. Skyhold is too full of memories, and I’m done Hal, I can’t do this anymore.” Vic said as he rose to go, hopeful the mage was behind him.

As Hal followed, his expression was a little stunned. “I’m... flattered you’d think of me, Invictus, but... there are others at the College who have far more experience than I. Ones that would likely make better First Enchanters.” He pondered as he drew alongside Invictus.

“I... don’t mean to pry... but when Velanna arrived at Skyhold to fetch me and show me how to cast the portal spell, she mentioned that you, Fenris, Zevran, Dorian and the Inquisitor had gone into the eluvian after the Bull. I... I have to ask....” Hal glanced up at the older mage. “Did you find him?”

Invictus sneered at the mention of the qunari. “Yes, and sadly Fenris wasn’t able to take his heart before the coward escaped. He tried to blame Cole for Anders murder of all ...people. If we find him again, it will be the last time anyone sees him alive.” 

Hal swallowed, his mouth suddenly gone dry. “He - he blamed Cole?” He frowned a little. “It was Cole who helped me keep my sanity all those months in captivity. I think he must have followed after us. He stayed near me, hiding whenever the qunari were near - just knowing he was nearby helped so much though. He couldn’t free me, and I think he couldn’t find his way back to the eluvian to get help - or he couldn’t get through it for some reason? He said something about the way being barred and I couldn’t quite follow. He said a small bird showed him the way out but he’d forgotten how to be small again. But if not for Cole, I would have gone mad. Cole would never have tried to kill Anders, I’m certain of it.”

“You are more than qualified Hal, those others lived their whole lives in their Circles but you have a unique perspective on life, what it means to be both apostate and Circle Mage that will make you invaluable to those who only have known the Circle or life on the run.” Vic rubbed at his eyes as they went, his own exhaustion hitting him hard. “I don’t know about Cole, but that’s what he tried to do. Fenris was full of rage, else he would have taken that traitor’s head.”

Hal turned to a door on their left. “This is the girls’ room; Callus and Garrett are next door,” he said as he knocked quietly.

After a moment, Marian opened it. “Oh, hello, Healer,” she smiled. “Ellowynne’s asleep and Pin and I were just - erm, chatting.” She grinned.

Hal glanced at the black wrap-around robe she wore and raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Marian let him in. 

“You’d best tell her to go get dressed then,” he told Marian quietly. “Let her know her Uncle is here to visit.”

Marian darted Invictus a look then grinned, blushing slightly, then disappeared off to one of the bedrooms.

Invictus raised an eyebrow at Marian but said nothing, if Pin was up to something with the other girl, good. He waited until the door opened again and she popped her head out. “Hi, I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed.”

Pin regarded Invictus a little wide-eyed. “I, I’m... alright,” she stammered; behind her, in the bedroom, Invictus could have sworn he heard a sultry chuckle. “Wynne’s sleeping - she had a headache, I thought it best to let her sleep it off before dinner.”

“If you say so, I’m going to take dinner in our room and your father asked to be put out with a sleep spell and Zevran, he needed it. If you wish to visit, I’ll be up for a while longer. If Imp needs anything, you can bring her to our room. We’re...not him but if she wants her uncle’s so be it.” Vic gave her a once over and smirked.

“Sure you’re ok? You look a bit flushed there Pin. Do you need Hal to check you over?”

“No, no no, I’m fine! I, er, had a really hot bath is all,” she said hastily. “Is Father going to be alright?”

“He’s just exhausted after the stress of the visitation,” shrugged Hal. “I think physically he’ll be alright, and maybe a few hours’ sleep will help him recover enough mentally that he should be able to have dinner later and not feel quite so... well, quite so immediately fraught.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I do know how to make a certain potion Anders taught me, but - well, he also taught me that it’s generally better in the long run to let natural grief run its course. Painful as it may be right now, it’s probably for the best that Fenris process it for himself.”

“I... guess you’re right,” she said a little dubiously. “You’re the Senior Healer now, after all.”

Hal looked very far from comforted by that thought. He turned to Invictus. “I need to get back to check on Arden. Callus is next door with Garrett. You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Alright, and you know you can come to me as well. You’re suffering too.” Vic offered before he gave Pin a sharp nod. “See you in the morning Imp.”

Hal let himself out as Pin gave Invictus a troubled look. 

“The healer looks really rough,” she confided. “I suppose what with everything else, he has a lot on his hands - and he was very close to Master Anders, wasn’t he? If we hadn’t thought at first that Hal was our father’s adopted son, Callus and I might have thought he was Master Anders’.”

“I guess he was in a way, he was Anders apprentice, as much as you are. He loves the Anders that came along from the Rift, that belonged with him and Arden. He’s going to be grieving a long time, especially when he has a version of our love that isn’t even fully himself.” Invictus sighed as he stepped back in the hallway. “Thanks for taking care of Fenris, when he’s not so...far gone, I’m sure he’ll tell you how much he appreciate you being with him.” 

“We _had_ to come,” said Pin with a shrug. “We couldn’t not. Father needed us. And... as Master Anders’ apprentice, I have a right to be here.” She frowned a little. “I’m very worried about Arden though. I thought he would have come to fetch us himself, but this Dalish elven Warden showed up instead. Something about Arden pushing the magic too far and it started -” She looked alarmed as her voice dropped. “It started feeding on _him_ when his mana ran out? Uncle Vic, is that even possible?”

Invictus blinked at being called Uncle, he wasn’t use to it from Pin. “It can happen, but it’s only when you’ve really overtaxed yourself. He’s sleeping it off, and has had some lyrium. Why would anyone tell you that, when you’re already upset. I think Wardens forget they weren’t always part of the Grey.” he gave her a wan smile before he headed off.

“Be good, and let Marian take care of you, after all you’ve been strong for everyone else today. See you later Pin.” Vic waved at her before knocking on Callus’ door.

Garrett opened the door then hastily stepped back and bowed. “First Enchanter! Sorry, I thought it was my sister or maybe Pin!”

“Just Invictus is fine, or Hawke. I came by to check on you and Cal before I take a nap. Is he here?” Vic asked.

“He is,” he nodded, then turned. “Hey, Cal!” he yelled. “First Enchanter Hawke to see you!”

Callus wandered out of one of the bedrooms, towelling off his hair, having evidently just stepped out of the bath. “First Enchanter,” he nodded to Invictus. “Is my father alright?”

“For now yes, I just came by to check on you before I go down for a nap. You and Pin took good care of him, thank you.” Vic replied.

Callus looked a little nonplussed. “We wouldn’t have made you all go through this without any help,” he shrugged. “Pin had to be there, and I was hardly going to stand back when both she and Father needed me. And the way Zevran looked - well, I’m his apprentice. It’s my duty - but it’s also a matter of honour. I may not use the term ‘Master’ as freely as Pin did with Anders, but... I’m beginning to realise that it doesn’t mean the same here in the south as it does back home. Zevran’s been kind and fair to me.”

“Still, this wasn’t easy and I know Fenris appreciated it as did I. I know Zevran will be glad you were here. How are you holding up Cal?” Vic asked as he watched Garrett head off towards the bath.

“I still don’t understand this southern thing about funerals and staring at a coffin,” he admitted. “I don’t get this public... _thing_ that takes so long. Why do southerners torture themselves mentally like this? It’s not often I find myself thinking Tevinter has gotten something right and the south hasn’t, but....” He sighed. “I mean, I can kind of see Knight Commander Hawke’s point, and I’m glad the Wardens were here to say goodbye, but - putting Wynne through that is cruel. She’s just a kid.” He shook his head. “I know it wasn’t your choice, or Father’s - and I think Zevran would have frankly preferred to have done anything but put her through that; I know he dotes on her as if she were his own child. But... I don’t think I can forgive this Divine for making a little girl stand in front of her father’s coffin and smell... _that_... for five hours.” Callus’ expression had darkened as he spoke. “I’ll say nothing in front of my father or Zevran, but... well, I figured maybe you’d appreciate plain speaking rather than dancing around like these fucking Orlesian ponces do. They’re as bad as magisters in their own way.”

“Well you are Fenris’ child Callus, you sound like him when we first met.” Vic game him a grin before he took a seat at the small table in the boys room. He fiddled with his wedding rings as he considered his words and that he was talking to his nephew, even if he wasn’t as close to the boy as he’d like.

“I know it’s bullshit and if Anders weren’t the Grand Enchanter, if it weren’t for his position we’d have had his pyre lit the next day and called it done. Part of it’s our fault Callus. We all went haring off after his killer, gone for days. If we’d stayed put and said no more than two or three days for the ...burning, we wouldn’t be doing this today and tomorrow. It feels like it’s going to kill me as it is. I’ll never get the scent of that incense out of my clothes or stop smelling it. It doesn’t cover the scent of death.” Vic leaned back and stretched. 

“Thank you for being blunt Cal, it’s nice to speak plainly.”

Callus shrugged again with typical youthful nonchalance, then grinned. “I’m not an Orlesian,” he joked, with a wink.

“I’m glad for it, I had my share of them to last all my days.” Vic gave him a tired grin before leaning back in the chair. “How have things been while we’ve been here?”

Callus took the other chair and dropped down into it, shaking damp hair out of his eyes. “Not too sure I care for the Orlesian way of doing things,” he frowned. “All these masks. It’s been barely a day and I think I’ve had my fill or Val Royeaux already - and we’ve not even left the palace. Mostly I’ve been keeping half an eye on Pin and Ellowynne and hanging out here with Garrett; Marian seems to have things well in hand though.” He suddenly smirked. “Marian’s a good distraction for Pin.”

“So I wasn’t misreading that. Huh, I’m surprised, didn’t think Pin was interested in anyone considering how much she stays to herself. Good for them, glad they’re happy.” Vic said. “Anyone distracting you?”

“Me? No,” Callus shook his head. “I mean, Garrett’s a comfortable guy to hang out with, but we’re just friends - before you get any ideas. That would be too weird, anyway - almost incestuous.” He pulled a face. “No, my work with Zevran... it keeps me pretty busy and... well, I can see there’s an advantage to not getting too close to people, in that line of work. And I don’t think I’m ready for anything like that right now anyway.” He glanced away for a moment. “There was someone - for a while, back in Tevinter. Not sure you would have called it more than a crush, really, but... he was kind to me, and when you’re a slave that means a lot. But....” He shrugged, his gaze distant. “Not a good idea to get too attached, when you’re a slave.”

“So Fenris told me, sorry if I got too personal Cal. It’s just nice to talk about normal things for a while before we have have to deal with more people.” Vic replied.

“He told you?” exclaimed Callus, startled, as he turned and stared at Invictus before he slouched slightly. “I suppose he would - you being his husband and all.” He sighed. “Yeah, that was... why I didn’t handle it too well when Pin and I learned Hal is Father’s boyfriend and not his adopted son. He... looks rather like... well. Anyway. Hal seems a decent guy, and I’m sorry I upset him over that.” He looked regretful at that. “I guess I should have told Hal that myself.”

“I...I wasn’t talking about Hal. I meant the not getting attached as a slave part. Your father and I spoke about that a lot during the early part of our relationship. I’m sure Hal understood your upset Cal. He’s lived as a Circle Mage most of his life, he understands not getting too close to others. When this is over, maybe talk with him?” Vic suggested.

“Maybe,” nodded Callus. He traced a finger through the design inlaid into the surface of the table. “Invictus... can I ask you a question?” he asked suddenly.

“Sure, though I might not have an answer depending on what you ask. Go for it.” Vic was curious about the younger elf’s sudden curiosity but held it in.

“Father tells me that at first, it was just you and him, for... five years, before Anders joined you both?” Callus tilted his head to one side; as Invictus nodded, the youth went on. “But at some point before you two picked up with Anders, Father had this brief... _thing_ with Zevran - and later on, whilst you, Father and Anders were together, Father and Zevran picked up again. And then at some point, along comes Hal and... he and Father got together. And then you, Father, Anders and Zevran got married - but there was still Hal on the side.” He frowned slightly. “And Zevran seems incredibly distraught over Anders’ death, even though as far as I can tell, nothing actually happened between he and Anders until you all actually got married. Just how does all that work, exactly? I mean, Hal’s with Arden, after all. Do Father and Arden sort of share Hal? I just can’t quite get it all straight in my head.”

“Well, it’s...quite complicated Callus, let’s see how to explain things.” Vic noticed the wine that the boys had been sharing and helped himself to half a glass to settle his nerves, and to keep himself from stammering too much. 

“Hal, he used to be Tranquil but through some very odd circumstances, he joined with the spirit of another Hawke and the return of his feelings was too much for him. This wasn’t your father by the way, this was the Fenris that belonged in Arden and Hal’s Kirkwall. But they got together in that Kirkwall, and at some point they became a foursome, that Hawke, Anders, Fenris and Hal.”

Vic took a moment to refill his cup and see if Callus was following. “Stop me if this needs more explaining. I lived it and I’m still not sure all of it actually happened.” 

“I think I follow,” nodded Callus. “Go on.”

“So while they went on and lived their lives in their reality, we carried on here. Move forward to the Rifts and weird shit happening in our world, we eventually join up with the Inquisitor because of Viscount Tethras. Along the way a rift opens and delivers Hal and Belann. Hal was taken with Fenris because his version of him had died in their world. 

They… didn’t get together immediately, and frankly some people thought Fenris was taking advantage of Hal because of his age. Since we’re adults we talked it out and let Fenris go with him when he wanted. It’s never been a...I don’t know what to call it. They love each other, but it’s not the same as what your father and I have, or how we love Anders and Zevran.”

He paused, unsure how honest he should be with the young man, he didn’t want to tarnish whatever image he had of Fenris for the boy. “How...how much do you want to know? There’s some things that might be better left for your father to tell you but I will be as honest as I can.” Vic asked.

Callus lifted his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I don’t need to know the details - I was just confused how all this works. Unless there’s anyone else likely to show up that I don’t know about, then this is fine!” He leaned forward again as he reached for his own glass and refilled it. “You must have really loved Anders,” he said sympathetically. “The way you talk of loving him as if he were still here. Must be hard to let go.”

“I do, that won’t stop...because he’s gone. It’s not like I can flip a switch with him gone. It might make it easier to grieve if I could but it hurts so much Cal.” Vic blinked as he felt tears well up again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t do this to you, it’s just the pain is still pretty raw.”

“No, it’s OK,” shrugged Callus. “It’s probably easier to talk to me than my father, I’d guess - it’s not like I have any pain to be reminded of where Anders was concerned. I mean, I liked the guy - he was always gentle, and he was good to my sister. But I didn’t really know him well, you know?” He sat back and stared into his wine glass. “I... kind of wish I’d had the chance to know him better now.”

“It is what it is Cal, and regretting it won’t change things sadly. I’d better let you be so we both can rest up before dinner. I told Pin already, if you need anything or if Ellowynne needs anything, come find me. I’m probably the only one that will wake up if you knock. Your father and Zevran are out for the count.” Vic drained his glass before heading for the door. “Thanks, this helped a lot.”

Callus nodded back. “I’m glad,” he replied. “If you need someone to talk to - or if Zevran needs me - you know where I am.”

Garrett came out of the bathroom just as the door closed behind Invictus. He glanced to Callus.

“Everything alright, Cal?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Well. As alright as it can be.” He grimaced. “Dumat, I can’t wait until this bloody funeral is over and we can get them all back to Skyhold.” He reached for the wine bottle and frowned at the small amount left. “Grab another bottle will you?”

Garrett gave a small, long-suffering sigh, and Callus merely smirked at him.

“Yes, oh Lord and Master,” intoned Garret.

Callus jumped up. “What did you just call me?” he said with a grin that belied his tone of voice. “You take that back!”

“Make me,” grinned Garrett.

***

If the visitation had been bad, the actual funeral was worse. The incense didn’t really drown out the stench of rot that permeated the chapel, even as far back as the pews. Invictus found himself wondering how Leliana could stand the smell, and concluded that maybe it was something from her days as the previous Divine’s Left Hand.

Carver’s words had been extraordinarily prescient, Invictus realised; he had to hold fast to the knowledge that Anders wasn’t in that casket in order to ground himself, or else he thought he might have lost it. As it was, he felt himself being lifted along on the overwhelming wave of emotion and grief that seemed to grip the chapel.

Fenris and Zevran both bore matching expressions of stunned dazedness through the whole thing, and from somewhere behind them he was aware of many people weeping. The final committal was almost more than he could bear - and yet it still wasn’t over for them.

They followed the casket as it was borne from the chapel out onto a carriage drawn by four black horses. Then they all followed on foot as the horses walked slowly to the huge Chantry, where the casket was carried down into the vault. There, Invictus, Fenris, Zevran and the children watched as the casket was sealed into a white marble tomb. 

Someone had carved a somewhat idealised reclining statue of Anders atop the tomb as though he lay there sleeping, arms folded across his chest; and Invictus found himself thinking, _They got his nose wrong._

And then, that was it. Leliana bowed to them as her assistants left, and then she herself departed, and they were alone beside the tomb.

Fenris approached it in a daze, his hands trembling as he touched the cold marble. “He’s gone, he’s alone in the dark. He hates the dark Vic.” he whispered before resting his head against the lid and sobbing.

Zevran stirred, as though only just waking from a dream. “The dark? No... no, there is nothing in there to mourn, _carissimi_ ,” he said slowly.

Fenris didn’t turn to face Zevran, he just kept his hold on the tomb, the only sound from him was sobbing.

“You mean, it’s just an empty body, ser,” said Callus, nodding.

“No,” said Zevran shaking his head. “That is not Anders’ body. Anders is not inside that tomb.”

Pin was staring at him in disbelief. “Zevran? Ser?” She glanced to Callus and Invictus. “He must be unwell, we need to get him back to your rooms -”

Zevran frowned. “There is nothing wrong with me, Pin,” he growled. “I speak the truth.” He glanced to Invictus. “I will not keep up this mummery. They at least should know.”

“Uncle Zev?” said Ellowynne as she glanced up at him. “If Daddy isn’t in there... then where is he?”

Zevran picked her up and set her on her hip as though she were a toddler. “Somewhere secret, my little Imp. You want to see him, eh?”

Her face lit up in sudden incredulous joy. “Daddy’s _alive??_ ” she exclaimed.

“Hush, Imp, it is a secret, yes?” smiled Zevran. “I will show you, but we mustn’t tell anyone else, hmm?”

Fenris turned and glared at Zevran, his eyes red from crying. “Why would you keep this lie up Zevran? Why hurt us more than we’ve been?”

Invictus frowned as he tugged Fenris’ arm, pulling him around to face him. “Love, you saw him yourself. You remember don’t you? Please tell me you remember.” At the expression of confusion on the Tevinter elf’s face he swore.

“That’s right, you passed out cold, and when you came around you were back in our rooms. Did you forget?” Vic asked worriedly.

“I forgot nothing, you’re in on this charade as well? Do you all mean to make me break finally? Can’t we accept this and try to move on?” Fenris begged.

“Charade?” exclaimed Zevran, then gestured emphatically at the stone tomb. “ _There_ is your charade, your lie - the body of a stranger, buried as Grand Enchanter! A fine grave for a pauper, no? But it is not Anders. And I will not pretend for a moment longer. I go now to take Ellowynne to see her father - her _living, breathing_ father, _carissimi_. Will you stay and grieve an unknown man, or come lay eyes on your living husband?”

“Wait,” said Pin, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Zevran, then turned to stare accusingly at Invictus. “You... you both knew Master Anders still lives, yet you let us think him dead? You made Wynne go through all that for - for _nothing??_ ”

Zevran closed his eyes as a remorseful look crossed his face. He opened his eyes to meet her accusing glare. “It was not a choice made lightly. For my part, the past two days are... I have few memories of them, doubtless due to my wounds; much is a blur. It was a necessary evil, a choice made without our consultation. The world must believe that Anders is truly dead, so he may at last be free. And so, the world needed to see us all grieve.”

He turned and pressed his forehead against Ellowynne’s as he closed his eyes. “Please forgive me, little one,” he murmured.

She stared at him gravely, then flung her arms around his neck. “Alright, Uncle Zev - but only if you take us to him _right now_ , you hear?”

“Well, I’m not sure _I_ do,” retorted Pin, angry. “After what we’ve been through?” She folded her arms. “So... all of this was a lie? Anders wasn’t even hurt?”

“No, he was hurt and he did die in my arms. We honestly don’t know how he yet lives Pin. We didn’t know until we got back from looking for his killers. All he said was Andraste brought him back. I can’t fake that kind of anguish.” Vic said as he slipped an arm around Fenris. 

“Come on love, see him for yourself and then we’ll get a strong drink in you before we have dinner.” 

Fenris kept looking between everyone, sure they were all mad. “Don’t do this to me, just let me go lie down for a while.” 

“Father, do you really think Zevran would tell such a lie? Come, we all want to see him and then I’ll help you to settle down.” Callus offered.

“I want to see him,” Pin declared. “I want to go see him right now.”

“And so you shall, Pin,” replied Zevran before turning to Fenris. “ _Carissimi_?” he said, softly.

“Fine, then Invictus is going to put me to sleep until tomorrow.” Fenris said, utterly defeated.

“Let us go then,” said Zevran before setting Ellowynne down. “You must walk, young lady; I fear I cannot carry you. Now, put on a grave face - the world must think you have buried your father, yes? Only we may know the secret!”

“Yes, Uncle Zev,” she nodded as she took his hand, her expression suitably serious and grave.

Fenris held tight to Invictus, the expression on his face grief stricken enough for all of them. He was silent, going where he was directed until they reached the secret chamber, he looked up when he heard Carver’s voice welcoming them back. 

“Why is your brother here Vic? Why can’t we go home now?” asked the elf.

Carver’s face held a sympathetic look as he turned to his brother. “He doesn’t remember then?”

“No, thinks he was so deep in grief and wanting it to not be true that he made it all up. I’m worried that he’s going to collapse again on us. This has pushed him past the breaking point.” Vic whispered.

“Maker. I’ll ask Sister Rosa to be ready then - he’ll likely faint again,” muttered Carver before he turned to the others. “You’ll all need to be fairly quiet and careful - he’s still very weak, and he’s a bit drowsy and confused at the moment. We gave him a couple of sleeping potions so he wouldn’t get upset that my brother, Zevran and Fenris didn’t come back. But I know he’ll be very glad to see you all.” He turned to Ellowynne. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you not to climb up on your father or bounce around all excited - your Daddy has been very badly hurt. He’s getting better, but he still gets quite a lot of pain so you’ll have to be gentle with him, alright?”

“Yes, Uncle Carver,” she nodded, eyes wide and serious.

“Alright; come this way,” said the templar, and opened the door.

Fenris waited to enter, sure he wasn’t going to see what the others claimed. Until he had to view the blond man, felt his heart quicken at the sight...of Anders, his Anders still alive. “How? How is he alive?” he rasped before he headed towards the bed. 

He reached out to touch the man he thought was his husband but he stopped short, sure if he let himself believe that Anders was alive, he’d finally break and there’d be no fixing him. “I’m dreaming, this isn’t real. I fainted at the funeral, right?”

“Father, you’re not a somniari, he’s alive. Go on and see for yourself.” Callus motioned for his father to go on and see for himself. 

As they spoke, Anders gave a soft little sigh as he slowly opened his eyes, then blinked up at Fenris. “Love?” he said drowsily, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Am I dreaming? I dreamed you came before, but are you really here now?”

The elf nodded, his hand landing on Anders thigh, his very warm leg under the blankets. Fenris blinked, his hand trailing over Anders body as if he had to convince himself he wasn’t mad. “How?” was all he asked, over and over even as he felt the mage’s heartbeat under his hand.

Anders gave a small faint gasp as Fenris pressed his hand gently over the bandages covering his chest; he lifted his right hand to cover Fenris’ as he bit his lip.

“Daddy! Daddy, it’s true - you’re not dead!” cried Ellowynne. 

Anders’ eyes widened, and then shone with unshed tears. “My little girl!” he whispered.

Fenris sat heavily in the chair by the bed, unable to reconcile what he saw and felt with how he’d grieved over the past week. “Vic...I think I’m going to be sick.” he said while he looked to his husband.

“Well I’ll be damned, this is as close to a miracle as I’ll ever see.” Callus murmured, arm around his sister to keep her still until Ellowynne had had her chance to see her father. “Easy sister, let her see her dad again.”

Anders held a hand out to Ellowynne, and the young girl carefully climbed up onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her father and they hugged.

“Daddy, oh my Daddy!” whispered Ellowynne; and then they were both crying as they held each other.

Invictus had gone over to Fenris, a bucket ready for the elf. “There you go love, go on if you need to sick up. I’ll get a potion for you as well.” he said as he rubbed circles on the elf’s back. 

Anders’ head dropped back upon the pillow as he gasped for breath, wheezing slightly.

“Easy, little Imp; your father is not well, hmm?” said Zevran as he gently lifted her back. He sat on the edge of the bed and set her upon his lap as he reached a hand out to rest it upon Anders’ arm as the mage closed his eyes briefly. Zevran seemed either unaware or else perhaps unconcerned by the tears rolling down his own cheeks.

“Ah, my heart,” he said soothingly as he laced his fingers with Anders’. “You have no idea what joy fills me to see you.”

Anders didn’t speak; merely tightened his fingers upon those of Zevran weakly. He opened his eyes and glanced around.

Invictus looked up from where he was tending to Fenris with a bright smile. “Hi love, glad to see you.” 

Anders gave him a tremulous smile, and then he glanced up as Pin pulled away from her brother.

“Master Anders?” she said timidly.

“Hello Pin,” he whispered weakly. 

She was at his bedside instantly, and then she dropped down to her knees beside the bed as she reached for his hand then pressed a kiss to his fingers, weeping almost silently.

“Pin! Oh Pin, please - don’t cry!” exclaimed Anders, his breath wheezing as he struggled to sit up. He grimaced in pain, and she was on her feet in an instant, very gently pressing him back against the pillows.

“Don’t - don’t hurt yourself, Master!” she whimpered. “Not for me!” Her hands lit up with a blue glow as she pressed them very carefully over the bandages over his heart; and then all there felt a strange breeze suddenly stir around the room and there was a soft susurrus, as of whispers one couldn’t quite make out.

“Spirits!” said Ellowynne, her eyes wide.

“Healing spirits,” Zevran said quietly.

“I - I can’t fix this,” said Pin. “It’s - I don’t have the skill. But _they_ can help.” She swallowed hard. “Master - your heart, it - Maker, there’s so much damage. It’s healing, but....” She lifted troubled eyes to his, and he nodded.

“Yes, Pin,” he said softly. “I truly did die. The knife went through my heart. But Andraste sent me back.”

“I knew you couldn’t die, Daddy,” said Ellowynne, awestruck. “Nothing can kill you - not the bad man inside Uncle Vic, and not even a knife in your heart! You’re like Uncle Fenris - he has Mythal watching over him, and you have Andraste watching over you!” She suddenly sat up straighter as her eyes widened again. “Daddy! Does that mean _you_ can turn into a dragon now?” she exclaimed.

A strange, blank look came across his face. “No, of course not, love,” he said, his voice oddly distant. “I’m just a human man. I can’t change shape.”

Fenris glanced up at him, unsure if he should approach again. He scooted the chair closer and took his other hand, lighting his markings. “Will that help you heal yourself?”

Anders blinked, as though coming back to himself. “Oh... I don’t think I have the strength yet,” he confessed tiredly. “Healing always takes it out of me - and it’s tiring to the one being healed as well, so....” He smiled weakly. “Doubly tiring.” His smile slipped as he closed his eyes. “So tired now,” he murmured.

“I don’t think you should stay too long,” said Carver quietly. “I did warn you he tires very easily.” He looked apologetic.

“I know brother, I know. Let Ellowynne and the kids stay a bit longer, I’m going to get Fenris back to our rooms since he looks a little pale still.” Vic said as he touched the elf’s shoulder. “Love, we need to get you seen to and he needs to rest. We can come back after dinner.”

“Don’t make me leave him yet, I’ll be quiet and good I promise.” Fenris replied. He could feel Anders’ fingers grow limp in his hand as the blond mage’s breathing evened out and slowed, Anders steadily slipping back into sleep again.

Zevran glanced up at Invictus. “ _Mi amore_ , perhaps you should let Hal in upon our little secret, yes? We need a healer we can trust - a skilled healer,” he corrected himself as he glanced to Pin, who was staring down at Anders’ sleeping face anxiously.

“I don’t want to leave Daddy yet,” said Ellowynne yet. “Can we stay, Uncle Vic?” She gave him her best pleading puppy-eyed look. “I’ll be really really good, I promise!”

“Fine, Zevran do you mind getting Hal while I remain here? Anders is asleep anyway, there’s no harm in letting them stay. Bring some drink back with you please?” Vic asked.

Zevran shifted Ellowynne off his lap and sat her on the bed then rose. He glanced to Callus. “Perhaps my apprentice would assist me?” he asked.

“Of course Spymaster.” Callus gave him a grin as he joined the other elf.

As they headed back down the long passageway that led to the hidden staircase, Zevran stared at a door by the bottom of the stairs.

“Hmm... my apprentice, I believe we are at the level of the wine cellars. It would be well to see if that were so - after all, it may save us a journey looking for wine, no? And it will occasion fewer questions if we lead Hal through the wine cellars than if we take him to the chapel.”

“And you want to explore, ser?” grinned Callus. Zevran shrugged.

“There is that too,” he grinned in return. He set his hand on the door handle and gave it an experimental jiggle. “Hmm. Callus, an ideal moment for you to practice those skills I have been teaching you, I think.”

He stepped back and produced a set of lockpicks from his belt. Callus stared at them before taking them.

“You had a set of lockpicks on you the entire time - all through the funeral? Ser,” he belatedly added, before setting to work.

“But of course,” shrugged Zevran.

The door lock clicked open, and Callus tucked the lockpicks back into their roll before handing it back to Zevran, who tucked them away again.

“Excellent work, my apprentice,” he smiled before leading the way into the darkness beyond.

They were, indeed, down in the wine cellars. Zevran took careful note of where the brandies, cognacs and whiskies were, as well as the better wines, then led the way up to the guest wing via the servant’s quarters. They found Hal sitting in a chair reading a book.

“Oh! Zevran, you startled me,” said Hal as he dropped the book then straightened. “Are you alright? Where are Invictus and Fenris? And the girls?”

“My husbands seek consolation in wine; I was hoping perhaps you might accompany us to endeavour they do not overindulge?” asked Zevran as he turned his head slightly to give Callus a sly wink.

“Oh - yes, yes, of course!” said Hal as he jumped up. “Arden is sleeping soundly and won’t wake for hours. Where are they?”

“Come follow me,” said Zevran.

He led them both back down to the wine cellars then through the stacks of wines, ales and other drinks. He selected a couple of good wines, handing them to Callus, before selecting a bottle of a decent vintage cognac, a bottle of his favourite Antivan brandy, and a bottle of good whisky. Hal watched him, mystified, but said nothing as Zevran carried on through the wine cellar.

“Where are we going, Zevran?” asked Hal as the Antivan let them all back through the small door.

“Oh, it is not much further - you will see,” said Zevran with a shrug. He opened the door at the end of the passageway, then gestured to Hal to enter.

Mystified, Hal walked into the room and then halted as he stared at Anders sleeping peacefully in the bed before him. The others glanced up as he entered, but Hal only had eyes for the sleeping man.

“You see,” said Zevran quietly from just behind him, “Anders is... not quite as dead as we led you to think.”

Hal’s eyes rolled back and he dropped soundlessly to the floor in a dead faint.

“Oh dear,” said Zevran contritely.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final Eluvian, their prey is close at hand but will they be in time?

Fenris buckled on his vambraces, mind on two things. The fight they were about to head into, and his family, some of which were safe and far from the battle. He looked up and gave Meneris and Dorian a wan smile before getting his weapon. “Ready for this?”

“Assuming you’re talking to me, then yes. I’ve been ready for this for ages. I’m sick of the qunari, I’m sick of the intrigue and espionage. Let’s find this Viddasala and end this.” Meneris replied with a brief glance to his fellow elven warrior. 

Zevran was tightening up the buckles on his arm guards; he glanced up briefly at the exchange between the other two elves but said nothing as he began slipping pointed throwing dirks into various sheathes. Cullen was watching him with a frown that got more and more incredulous as Zevran steadily made the arsenal of knives and blades on the table before him disappear.

“That’s nothing, you should see him get ready for more serious missions.” Fenris quipped as he glanced to Dorian, unsure what the magister knew of their little secret waiting in Nevarra for them.

Zevran chuckled darkly. “For a start, I would be carrying more poisons with me,” remarked the Antivan. He glanced over towards Dorian, then frowned slightly. “We would also have more than the two mages we have with us at present - we would have a healer as well.” He sighed. “Instead we shall make do with healing potions.”

Fenris scowled at the Antivan’s remark about missing a healer but didn’t remark on it. Instead he grabbed his rucksack to get field rations and potions.

Invictus said nothing, he just laid a hand on Fenris’ shoulder as he went by, hating to continue the ruse but glad of something to do rather than pretend they were still grieving.

Arden emerged from his room, fastening a buckle on his leather vambraces; he was wearing the mercenary garb he’d first worn on his arrival at Skyhold. “You’ll have a healer,” he said gruffly, not looking up from the vambrace. “I’m coming with you.”

Fenris glanced at Arden, but remained silent as he continued to fill his rucksack. Once he was satisfied, he buckled that on as well. “Are you certain of that? You still look like a bronto ran you down.”

“I’d feel better if he could come, remember I can’t heal for shit,” Vic said softly.

“Hal told me about the state Zevran was in,” said Arden. “You had only a couple of healing potions between you and he still came back with concussion and three broken ribs.” He straightened and looked at Fenris. His face was still pale, dark hollows under his eyes, and there was still a faint tremor in his hands for the dangerous amount of lyrium he’d ingested only a couple of days previously. But his eyes were clear and he was upright, a look of grim determination upon his face. “You need a combat healer. That’s me.” He reached for his bladed staff and slung it on his back. “Any other objections?”

Dorian merely glared at him tight-lipped for a moment before turning away, muttering something under his breath about damned fool obstinate southern mages pushing themselves to the point of collapse just to prove a bloody point. He snatched up his own staff and studied the haft binding for loose threads or fraying binding to give himself something to focus on instead of ranting.

Meneris had already heard Dorian on the subject of Arden’s pushing himself too far with his initial ferrying of all of Thedas’ dignitaries - or so it had seemed - but apparently Dorian was still grousing about it; in his own head, at least.

“Love, please this will be hard enough. Just, leave him to it if he needs this. We’re still grieving,” Meneris asked softly, his hands busy on the toggles of Dorian’s armor so he could be close enough to whisper to his magister.

“Who else is going? We should get them and be on our way,” Fenris said with a glare for Meneris and Dorian before he started to pace.

“But that’s my point, _amatus_ ,” said Dorian in a soft, plaintive whisper. “We’ve already lost Anders. I don’t want us to lose Arden as well - think what it would do to Hal!” He shook his head and sighed as he dropped his gaze. “Forgive me. I’m just very worried.”

“You have my sword, as before,” said Cullen, nodding to Fenris.

“Thank you Commander.” Fenris returned his nod as he passed the former templar. He was tired of waiting and his impatience was hard to keep to himself.

“Are we ready then?” asked Zevran as he slung his long fighting knives at his hips and glanced around at them.

“Yes, damned ready to go,” Fenris replied.

“Same, let’s do this,” Meneris said before he led them out and towards the eluvian again.

As they gathered upon the other side, Zevran glanced to Fenris. “Do you think our little winged guide will return to us, _carissimi_?” he asked. “He did not lead us astray before, I am thinking. To Darvaarad, yes?”

“Ye...yes,” Fenris replied before he glanced away from his husband. 

“So. We remember the path; this time it will go faster, I think,” nodded Zevran as he moved ahead to lead the way.”

“Winged guide?” asked Arden. Cullen sighed.

“A long story and a bit of a touchy subject,” replied Cullen. “But if you see a white crow, it’s... not what you think.”

Arden stared at him, mystified.

“Can we just go?” Fenris snapped before he took off after Meneris.

“This will be so much fun,” Invictus sighed as he headed off.

As Zevran had surmised, this time they moved far faster, the path familiar to them. It was a matter of a few hours before they stepped out of the eluvian and saw the looming walls of the Qunari fortress ahead.

As they stared up at the stone walls, two things happened simultaneously; a white bird streaked down out of the dark, clouded sky - and Meneris’ Mark suddenly erupted into a blaze of light as the Inquisitor grasped his wrist and screamed. There was a blinding flash and then a blast ripped outwards from Meneris as he dropped to his knees; and everyone else was thrown back, stunned.

The elven warrior howled in pain as he fell to his knees, panting. “Mythal, it hurts, it hurts!” Meneris screamed.

Fenris sat up slowly, trying to stop the ringing in his ears. As he glanced around, he realised that the bird had been knocked out of the sky by the force of the blast, and the shock as it hit the ground had caused it to shift back into human form. The dazed man was sitting up groggily. His robe had been white once, but now it was dark, streaked with dirt, mud and what looked like scorch marks, and the white hair was dishevelled and dirty, plastered flat in places by what might have been mud or possibly blood; it was hard to tell in the dull light. Fenris found himself wondering just what this strange Anders had been through. Whatever the man had faced however, he had survived it - and as the man shook his head briefly then stood, he was the first one of them all to be back on his feet.

A boom of thunder rolled slowly over them as the distant approaching storm promised heavy rain to come. Dorian glanced up as the echoes rolled away, and pulled a face before turning back to Meneris. 

“Love, please - what can we do?” he asked anxiously.

“I don’t know, it’s getting worse and I can feel it building up again. Fuck!” Meneris panted.

“What’s going on?” asked Arden as he made his way over. “Maker, what’s causing the pain? Why is his Mark acting like this?”

“We don’t know!” exclaimed Dorian as he glanced up at the other mage. “Anders tried to heal it once, back in SKyhold, and it only made it worse!”

“It’s building because it’s unstable,” said the bedraggled stranger as he took a step closer. “You have to use it - let it out, or it will get away from you again.”

“Step back!” Meneris said before flinging his hand out, palm down so the excess energy could escape. “Creators...this is...worse than getting the damn mark.” he panted, his arm feeling as if it were on fire with every pulse of the mark. “Let’s go, I’m going to shove my hand down the throat of the first Qunari I see and let them feel my pain.”

“You’re after Viddasala, aren’t you?” asked the stranger. “After you left... I couldn’t get back, so I stayed. It’s been... unpleasant. But I had a feeling you might be back somehow.” He gave a lopsided grin that was all too familiar, even beneath the mud and what they could see now were splashes of blood. “Had to wade through quite a number of Qunari myself, but I saved plenty for you, Inquisitor.”

“Wait. Your voice,” said Arden slowly as he stared at the stranger. “I know you.”

“Really? Good luck with that, because between the coming and the going and the birds and everything else, I’m not sure I even know _myself_ any more,” the stranger replied, still with that lopsided smile. “But I’m sure the Inquisitor would rather be killing Qunari first and us chatting later. Hmm?”

“Yes, he would especially since my arm feels fit to burst from pain.” Meneris snarled as he lead the way, eager to find some unlucky sod to take his rage out on.

Fenris glanced at the others, then hurried to catch up with Meneris. “Will my markings help you at all if I light them? Can I do anything?” 

“Cut off my fucking arm.” Meneris hissed before he let another burst of energy free. “It’s happening so often now, why Creators, why?” he whimpered.

“Told you,” said the stranger as he strode easily alongside them, his long legs carrying him along without needing to run. “Wildly unstable. Unsurprising, considering what it is. I’m afraid it’s probably going to get worse though. I can’t stop that, I’m afraid, but I can do something to dull the pain - for a time, at least.” He lifted up a hand and wiggled his fingers, a spark of mana dancing across his fingertips. 

“Do it, don’t care… just make it stop.” Meneris said as he glanced at the man offering to help. He was in enough pain he was considering letting Fenris actually take his arm. That would hurt less.

Fenris had fallen silent, his gaze dropped from the mage that was healing the Inquisitor. 

The stranger ignored the others, frowning as he trailed glowing fingers down the inside of Meneris’ forearm towards the elf’s wrist. His long, dirty fingers felt cool, pain slowly evaporating where they touched, until the stranger curled his fingers about Meneris’ wrists and the pain slowly drained away to leave an uncanny feeling of pressure without pain.

The stranger stepped away, wincing as he shook out his fingers. “It won’t last forever; eventually the pain will break through what I’ve done. But it should help lessen the distraction.” He lifted amber eyes to meet Meneris’ gaze. “But when you deal with all of this... well. You’ll probably find exactly the right person you’ll want to punch to let it out, I think.”

He backed away from them all slowly with an almost mischievous grin. “Speaking of which... I can help. Like I said, I’ve been hanging around here since you left. I can lead you to Viddasala. That’s what you came back for, after all.” He grinned, turned away, and then between one heartbeat and the next a white crow was winging away into the air to glide on ahead of them.

“What - Maker, we were talking to a Witch of the Wilds?” exclaimed Arden. “But... a man? I didn’t think there were any male Witches of the Wilds!”

“It’s... more complicated than that,” said Cullen as he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away.

“Let’s go, we have a Viddasala to meet.” Vic said to Fenris along with a soft squeeze of the elf’s shoulder as he went by.

Meneris straightened and took Dorian’s hand in his as they hurried to catch the white bird.

The fortress hadn’t been abandoned in the couple of days they’d been absent; though the freeing of the dragon had drastically crippled their _gaatlok_ production, evidently the Qunari had had enough on hand to continue production for a little longer, and the fortress they hunted through still had Qunari aplenty enough to give Meneris adequate targets to fire off the Mark at.

“OH this will be fun.” Fenris said before running into the fray, aiming for any qunari left standing after Meneris’ mark went off. 

“He’s far too happy to be covered in blood and killing things.” Invictus murmured as he called up chain lightning before he had to backpedal from the biggest Saarebas he’d seen in his life. “What in the Void?”

“Less talking, more hitting!” Meneris yelled before letting the Saarebas feel his mark up close and personal.

Arden stared at the Saarebas aghast before whipping up a Tempest against the creature. They all felt their skin tighten with the sensation of a shield spell settling over them, a moment before the lurid purple of a paralysis glyph erupted at the Saarebas’ feet and its attempt to cast some kind of spell at Meneris abruptly fizzled.

Dorian gave Invictus a startled look. “That counterspell was none of my work - nor that glyph! Invictus?”

“Not I, I was too busy trying to fry him.” Vic huffed. 

Fenris looked up and noticed the white bird circling over their heads, but said nothing about it to spare Arden. Instead he let his brands light as he charged at the giant qunari mage. “Cover me!”

Arden called up a powerful spirit blast and let the Saarebas have it full force. The Saarebas turned its head blindly towards the blond mage then drew its immense hands together; a glowing, whirling ball of energy began to form between its hands.

“Not today.” Fenris snarled before jumping at the Saarebas to plunge his fist through it’s chest.

Arden was already diving to one side away from any potential blast radius from whatever attack the saarebas was about to unleash; as he gained his feet his eyes widened at the sight of several Qunari warriors running to flank him. 

“Fenris, Vic, Inquisitor - look out!” he shouted as he threw out a fan of ice before a scream of pain had him glancing over his shoulder.

“No! No...Dorian, grab him, I’m frying this thing where it stands.” Invictus twirled his staff over his head once, slammed the butt to the ground and called down a tempest on the Saarebas as he watched for a sign that Fenris could get up.

Dorian was already running, dashing towards where Fenris sprawled insensible upon the ground.

The white crow dove down and then the stranger was standing beside Invictus, weaving an augmentation to his tempest.

“Maker, just like the Wardens all over again,” murmured the stranger to himself. “Eh, Amell?” He darted a glance at Invictus, and as Vic spared a brief glance sidelong at the man, it was clear the stranger wasn’t fully seeing him. 

“Sure, now let’s finish this thing off.” Vic said with an odd glance for the other mage. “On my mark, cast.” 

Meneris had gone to help Dorian pull Fenris away from the fight, just in time to share his marks’ energy with a couple of Qunari that had approached from the side.

There was a brilliant, blinding flash of light and heat as the tempest being raised by Invictus and the stranger finally went off.

The saarebas died in silence. That was the most unnerving part of it, Invictus recalled later; not the sight of the immense creature immolating, or the stench of its incinerated flesh, but the complete silence in which it perished.

“Maker. What did I just see?” murmured Arden as he blinked away afterimages, his eyes watering.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Invictus remarked as he hurried to Fenris’ side. The elf’s armor was singed from where the energy ball had made direct contact with his armor. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t unconscious, just in pain. “Love? Can you look at me?”

The elven warrior struggled but he finally looked up at Vic and gave him a lopsided smile. “I missed.”

From somewhere across the battlefield there came the sound of fervent streaming swears in a mixture of Antivan, Orlesian and Tevene, and then suddenly Zevran was there, throwing himself down carelessly upon his knees as he dropped his long fighting knives and reached for Fenris. “ _Carissimi!_ ”

“Stop yelling, that thing slapped me pretty hard, my head hurts.” Fenris muttered as he looked to the Antivan elf. 

“My heart fucking stopped when you went down, let me check you over. Is anything broken? Can you breathe alright?” Vic said as he tried to check over Fenris everywhere at once.

“No ribs broken, dizzy though.” the elf replied quietly.

There was another brilliant flash of light from somewhere off to the side, then the smell of ozone, thick and heavy on the air, before silence fell save for the pops and pings of cooling mettle and the aroma of burned flesh.

“Are you alright, Cullen?” they heard Arden call, and the Commander swearing back vigorously enough to assure them he was mostly fine.

“Who burned dinner?” Fenris mumbled before he winced at the feel of Invictus’ fingers on his arm. “Gentle please.”

“Is it broken? Open your eyes dammit!” Invictus turned the elf’s face toward him again and tapped his cheek. “Leto Hawke, dammit don’t do this.”

“ _Carissimi_ , please - just open your eyes!” pleaded Zevran.

“They’re dead, Inquisitor - all the - oh.” Cullen’s voice grew hushed. “Maker.”

“Let me through, is he -” Arden dropped down next to Invictus, a little out of breath. “Qunari are all dead. Fenris? Can you open your eyes for me?” Without waiting for an answer, Arden closed his eyes, his hands already glowing blue as he reached for the elf.

“Stop yelling.” Fenris said as he opened his eyes and squinted at everyone crowding him. He glanced at Arden but didn’t fight the other man’s healing. “Sorry, didn’t think that saarebas would do that when I attacked.” 

“It's ok, it’s ok, you’re ok.” Vic said shakily with a glance to Zevran before he drew back and let Arden finish healing his husband.

Zevran stared down at Fenris, then up at Invictus before abruptly he got to his feet and strode a short distance away, his head bowed. There was a fluttering of wings and then the white crow landed lightly upon the Antivan’s shoulder; after a moment, Zevran lifted a hand slowly to stroke the crow gently.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” exhaled Arden as he straightened, opening his eyes. “Mostly surface burns but it could have been worse.” He pulled his hands away finally.

“Oh good, can I get up now?” Fenris asked as he tried to sit up and batted Invictus’ hands away. “You heard him, just surface burns, I’m guessing my armor suffered more than I did.”

“Alright. Now that we know you’re fine we should be on our way. Meneris’ mark isn’t getting any better and we’re all ready to end this.” Vic said as he helped the Tevinter elf to his feet.

“I’m going to tear this Viddasala to pieces when we find them.” Meneris said, his voice rough from yelling in battle.

Dorian rose to his feet, giving Arden a hand up as Cullen turned to Meneris. 

“This group of Qunari all seem to be dead, Inquisitor,” he reported.

“Good, let’s go.” Meneris glanced to their bird companion and the others. “Looks like one last eluvian, I hope.” 

The crow gave a harsh cry before launching itself from Zevran’s shoulder; the Antivan followed swiftly after.

Meneris followed through, his expression grim as he came upon the giant eluvian, larger than even the mirror they’d encountered in the temple of Mythal. “This better be it, I’m tired of fighting.”

“I hope this keystone activates it.” Fenris said as he approached it, brands lit and keystone in hand as he held it to the glass. He felt a pulse of magic then the eluvian’s surface rippled under his touch. “Here we go.” 

He passed through the mirror, to a forest of qunari statues. They were in poses that suggested combat, and as he approached them he realized they were a bit too perfect. “Inquisitor, these used to be living qunari.” 

Meneris touched the grey stone, discomfited at how the stone felt under his fingers. His attention was pulled by angry Qunlat drifting down towards them, and a voice he hadn’t heard since the battle with Corypheus. “Solas, I’m going to enjoy ripping him to pieces, let’s go.”

There was a flash of light as they moved forward, and the stranger was walking backwards right in front of the Inquisitor. 

“Wait,” he said urgently. “You’re angry - but there are things here you need to learn. You need to listen. Just... listen.” Then the man was gone as the crow winged its way up into the sky, leading them onwards as they followed the voices.

“Talk while we walk, I’m not stopping.” Meneris said as they moved onward.


	41. Chapter 41

“Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost.” The voice was familiar; a man’s voice, quiet, cultured.

“Maaras kata!” rang out a woman’s voice, and Meneris’ eyes narrowed as he recognised the voice of the Viddasala. As they hurried up a flight of ruined steps that led up a grassy knoll, they emerged onto the top of the hill to see the Qunari priestess towering over the elven apostate whom none of them had seen since Meneris had defeated Corypheus two years ago.

Neither Solas nor Viddasala appeared to have noticed their arrival.

“Your forces have failed,” said Solas quietly. “Leave now, and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further.” He turned his back on the Qunari woman and began to walk away.

She snarled at his retreating back and lifted her spear; hefting it, she aimed it at his back as she drew back her arm. Solas paused, and then suddenly Viddasala froze in place and she, too, was a statue of stone - just like all the other Qunari statues they had seen.

“Solas!” exclaimed Meneris as they stared at the elven apostate - the last person they would have expected here.

The elf turned at the sound of his name; Meneris took a step forward and then cried out as the mark flared into life, green actinic fire surging along his arm as he clutched his wrist and fell to his knees.

“Amatus!” cried Dorian.

Solas walked back towards them, and glanced down at the fallen Inquisitor; his eyes blazed briefly with blue-white fire, and to their surprise the mark in the palm of Meneris’ hand became quiescent once more.

“That should give us more time,” Solas said in an almost gentle tone. His expression was sympathetic as Meneris struggled back to his feet, panting. “I suspect you have questions,” went on the apostate.

“The Qunari wanted to kill you. I wanted to get here first,” growled Meneris.

“I know,” nodded Solas. “They sought an agent of Fen’Harel. I am no-one’s agent but my own. I fear that the truth is much simpler, and much worse, than the Qunari believe.”

Fenris stared at Solas, who glanced at him and then gave him a small smile. “Mythal sends her own agents, I see.”

There was a fluttering of white wings, and then the white-haired stranger rose up behind Solas.

“You are Fen’Harel,” he said softly. 

Solas glanced back at him, then inclined his head slightly. “Just so. I was Solas first. ‘Fen’Harel’ came later... an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies... not unlike ‘Inquisitor’, I suppose.” He smiled slightly. “I am not the first to take a name others gave me and wear it as my own, nor am I the last - am I not, Anders of Anderfels, child of two worlds and belonging to neither? It must be very hard for you, hardly knowing who you truly are any more. I am impressed you have managed to retain this much of yourself thus far.”

The white-haired stranger swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Zevran and Invictus.

Solas turned back towards Meneris. “You also know the burden of a title that all but replaces your name.”

“You lied about everything!” snarled Meneris. He took a step towards Solas then cried out as the mark flared painfully to life once more.

“I understand your anger,” said Solas as Meneris struggled to remain on his feet, face blanched from pain as he clutched his wrist. “In your place, I would share it.” He gestured with one hand and the pain in Meneris’ hand died down.

“I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods,” went on Solas. “I broke the chains of all who wished to join me. The false gods called me Fen’Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever. Thus I freed the elven people, and in so doing, destroyed their world.”

“Wait - _you_ created the Veil?” exclaimed Dorian incredulously. 

Solas glanced at him and nodded. “Yes. It was I,” he replied.

Meneris glanced down at the green fire that still flickered and danced along his arm, though he felt no pain for the moment.

“But... you _love_ the Fade,” went on Dorian. “Why would you create the Veil to hide it all away?”

Solas’ expression became sorrowful. “Because every alternative was worse,” he replied.

Zevran stood between Fenris and Invictus; as Solas paced, slowly speaking of false gods and matters of ancient history with the authority of one who had witnessed the past and had a direct hand in it, the Antivan elf’s face had remained blank, no hint upon his face of whatever thoughts were going through his head. But as Invictus leaned over to murmur a question to his slender assassin husband, whatever he had been about to ask was driven clean out of his head when he realised that Zevran was trembling slightly.

“Zev?” he whispered, alarmed.

Zevran’s eyes were fixed upon Solas; if he heard Invictus, he gave no sign of it. 

“Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world,” continued Solas.

“You banished the false gods? You didn’t kill them?” said Meneris slowly.

Solas smiled. “You met Mythal, did you not?”

“Met...!” exclaimed Meneris, startled. He glanced around at Fenris, then looked at the white-haired stranger, who returned his stare with confusion.

“The Well of Souls - and afterwards,” said Dorian slowly.

“Just so,” nodded Solas. “The first of my people do not die so easily.” He turned and began pacing slowly. “The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds.”

“Their misdeeds?” echoed Meneris, turning to follow Solas.

“They killed Mythal,” replied Solas, then chuckled wryly. “A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.”

“Killed - no!” exclaimed Fenris. “But then - how -”

“Chosen of Mythal, but you wonder how, yes?” said Solas, glancing at the white-haired warrior. “I told you. We do not die so easily. I hold her essence within me even now.” He turned and resumed pacing. “But it is not right that she remain thus, and it suits my purposes far better that she retain her independence. Her... former vessel no longer suits, and thus I must perforce select for her another.” 

He turned upon his heel suddenly and stared at the white-haired Anders. “You.”

Anders’ eyes widened in shock as he froze, staring at Solas even as the others erupted in objections.

“You can’t!” cried Meneris. “He isn’t even an elf!”

“Over my dead body!” howled Fenris as he leapt forward, sword in hand.

“Anders! No, no I _won’t_ lose him again!” screamed Arden as he pushed forward.

“Solas, no!” shouted Cullen as he moved to try and place himself between the startled mage and the elven apostate.

Solas gestured, and suddenly Fenris, Meneris and the others were sent flying. Then he advanced towards Cullen. “Step aside,” he ordered the former templar.

“No,” said Cullen stubbornly. “I failed Anders before; I won’t fail him again.”

“Foolish man,” said Solas. His eyes flashed with blue fire, and Cullen in an instant was turned to stone.

“No!” cried Anders, reaching for Cullen but recoiling from the cold stone. He stared at Solas. “Please. Don’t hurt them. I - I surrender. I won’t fight this. Do as you will to me; it doesn’t matter, I should be dead anyway. Only - please, bring Cullen back.”

“You accept?” inquired Solas.

“Anders, no!” shouted Arden. But Anders was already nodding.

“I accept. Willingly. I offer myself.” He closed his eyes.

Solas halted before Anders and cupped the pale mage’s face in his hands. He exhaled slowly, and a pale mist wreathed slowly from his lips.

Anders slowly inhaled, then opened his eyes. They were sheened over in blue-white fire, and his form shimmered briefly before he slumped, eyes closing as he fell forward into Solas’ arms.

“Easy, my lady,” murmured Solas gently.

“Solas, what have you done?” breathed Meneris, horrified. As they watched, Anders - or was he now Mythal? - was still for a moment before he clutched at Solas then slowly straightened, pushing himself away from Solas. His eyes when he opened them were pure gold.

“Like Flemeth,” whispered Invictus.

“Old friend,” said the white-haired mage quietly, then shook his head sadly as he stepped back. “I appreciate what you have done. But I cannot aid you in this.”

Solas frowned. “What do you mean?” he said slowly.

“You would unmake this world, and I cannot allow that,” replied the other man. He walked slowly around Solas and reached for Cullen; at the touch of his hand, the warrior was restored to flesh and blood. Cullen staggered, then stared around himself wildly. Anders smiled at him gently then inclined his head towards the others who were getting to their feet, exchanging shocked looks with one another, for the moment stunned into inaction.

“You were ever the best of them, my Lady,” said Solas slowly. “Even now, you would protect them?”

Anders turned and stood in front of the others. “I would. I will. I am sorry, old friend. But I cannot allow you to do this.”

“What... what were you going to do?” asked Meneris slowly.

“The Veil took everything from the elves; even their immortality,” said Solas. “It was I who did that.” He turned and began pacing once more. “I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you. My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration.”

He turned back towards them. “I will save the elven people, even if it means _this_ world must die.”

“But, no, wait, _why_?” exclaimed Arden. “Why must this world die for the elves to return?”

“A good question, but not one I will answer,” replied Solas as he turned away.

“Damn you, Solas, what have you done?” snarled Meneris.

“What will happen to - to us, to our world, to - to those of us who aren’t elves?” said Arden, his tone one of desperation.

“I am not Corypheus,” replied Solas. “I take no joy in this. But the return of my people means the end of yours.” He turned back towards them. “It is my fight. You should be more concerned about the Inquisition.” He glanced at Meneris. “ _Your_ Inquisition.”

“Hang the bloody Inquisition!” snarled Meneris. “I can’t let you do this, Solas!”

“You cannot stop me, Lavellen,” replied Solas with a shrug. “However. In stopping the Dragon’s Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces.”

“Dragon’s Breath?” exclaimed Dorian, startled.

“Wait - the Bull -” began Fenris.

“Was one of my agents,” replied Solas.

“Then... Hal....” said Invictus slowly.

“My doing,” nodded Solas. “Regrettable, but necessary I’m afraid. As were Cole’s actions. You needed to be guided in the right direction. But now the Qunari have been thwarted, with luck they will turn their attentions to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace.”

“You bastard,” Meneris growled. “This was all your doing? Hal, Anders’ murder - all of it and for what - a distraction?”

“He controls the eluvians now,” said Anders.

Solas nodded. “The Qunari stumbled upon the eluvians independently. With them gone, the eluvians are now mine. Do you know how I uncovered their plot?” He stepped towards Meneris. “Their Qunari spies tripped over _my_ spies within the Inquisition. Of course, they never dreamed that one of theirs was also mine.”

“The Iron Bull was a double agent?” said Cullen slowly. Solas glanced at him and nodded.

“An unwitting one perhaps, but yes,” he agreed.

“You set us up to do your dirty work,” said Dorian disdainfully. Solas gave a tight smile as he glanced to Meneris.

“The mistake was yours to fix, Inquisitor,” he replied. “Corypheus should have died unlocking my orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos. When _you_ survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best chance this world had of stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence, Skyhold.”

“It was you all along,” said Meneris softly. “Corypheus, Skyhold.... everything. You gave your orb to Corypheus.”

“Not directly,” Solas shook his head. “My agents allowed the Venatori to locate it. The orb had grown too powerful over the millennia as I slept; I was not strong enough to open it. The plan was for Corypheus to unlock it, and for the resulting explosion to kill him. Then I would claim it.” He lowered his head. “I did not foresee a Tevinter magister having learned the secret of effective immortality.”

“But with the orb destroyed....” said Dorian slowly.

“I cannot use it to tear down the Veil,” replied Solas. “But no matter. I shall find another way. I _will_ restore my world - the world of the elves.”

“You’d murder countless people!” exclaimed Arden. 

“Wouldn’t you, to save your own?” asked Solas.

“You’re no better than the Magisters of old. I will not let you win Solas, even if it kills me.” Fenris glared at the elf, or whatever he had revealed of himself. 

“We’ve had enough death love, you will not throw your life away.” Invictus whispered to him

“It’s not throwing my life away if it means he dies. I will not suffer a fool again Vic. I didn’t survive Tevinter, Danarius, all of this to just watch him destroy it.” Fenris held fast to his husband even as he continued to stare down the other elf.

“You must understand,” said Solas, in a tone of quiet patience. “I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people’s conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking in a world of Tranquil.” He glanced to Dorian and then Arden. “Imagine it, if you will.”

Arden swallowed hard, an expression of revulsion upon his face. “We aren’t even people to you though, are we?” he answered.

“You... weren’t at first,” admitted Solas. He nodded at Dorian. “I have come to learn otherwise, through working beside you. That does not make what must come next any easier.”

“We will not let you do this, Fen’Harel,” said Anders softly. “We will stop you.”

Solas smiled at him sadly. “You will try.”

“Solas, so help me I’ll -” Meneris broke off as the mark suddenly pulsed hard and a lance of fiery pain stabbed through his arm; he fell to his knees with a scream, clutching his wrist as he stared up at Solas, agony etched upon his face.

“Amatus!” cried Dorian as he flung himself down beside the stricken elf. He stared up at Anders and Arden. “Please, someone, _do something!!_ ” he cried. “It’s killing him!”

“Yes,” said Solas gently. “It _will_ kill him, in time.” He sighed. “I am sorry.”

Anders moved forward and laid a hand upon Meneris’ shoulder, his hand glowing blue with healing energy that sank into the elf’s trembling body; it barely took off the edge of the pain, however.

“This is your fault!” hissed Dorian as he turned and glared at Solas. “Bloody _do_ something, man!”

“Drawing you here gives me the chance to save you... at least for now,” said Solas as he crouched down before Meneris.

“You don’t need to destroy the world - I’ll prove it to you!” hissed Meneris as he glared at the elven apostate. Solas merely smiled.

“I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again,” he replied. 

He studied Meneris’ face for a moment, then reached out to grasp the Inquisitor’s wrist. Lifting his other hand, he stared into Meneris’ eyes, then chopped his hand down sharply and there was a brilliant flash of light.

Meneris felt a sharp, searing pain across his arm, just above the elbow, and then a deep, burning ache as Solas straightened; the elven apostate held Meneris’ severed forearm with the anchor in his hand.

“Meneris!” cried Dorian as his lover stared in shock down at the stump where his arm had been.

“I am sorry,” said Solas, before turning and walking away.

“Sorry isn’t in his vocabulary.” Invictus said as he turned to where Meneris knelt on the ground, pale and staring between Solas and his missing arm. 

“Meneris?” Fenris asked as he approached, unsure how the other warrior would react to the loss. 

“Gone..he just..he took my arm.” he repeated as he kept reaching for the stump, failing to touch flesh he expected. 

Anders knelt down in front of Meneris and gently took Meneris’ hand in his own, guiding it away from the raw stump. “Easy there,” he said softly. “Though Solas sealed the wound, it will be painful and sensitive. I can take the pain away, but I cannot restore what he has done to you.” He laid his other hand lightly over the stump and let cool, soothing healing magic wash over the flesh. “I am so sorry for what he has done.”

Zevran stood staring at Solas as the elven apostate stepped through an eluvian and was gone from sight, then slowly turned his gaze upon Anders as the white-haired mage tended to Meneris.

“I’m going to kill him, beat him with my stolen arm, anything. He...how am I supposed to fight like this?” Meneris asked as he fought tears. “He took...he….”

“I think he’s in shock, or getting there quickly.” Fenris said as he knelt by the elf. “Meneris, you can still fight, he didn’t take that from you. Will you let me help you up?” 

“I don’t think he’s the only one in shock,” said Arden quietly, glancing at Zevran.

“We need to get the Inquisitor back to the palace - there’s nothing more to be done here,” said Cullen. “The Qunari are all dead and Solas is gone.”

Anders glanced up at Cullen and nodded. “You are right. We are done here.” He rose to his feet and stepped back as Dorian and Fenris moved to help Meneris up to his feet.

“Once we get everyone back, I’m going to lock myself in a bath with a bottle.” Fenris said quietly as he looked to where Invictus had pulled Zevran to him and was trying to get the elf to talk with him. Zevran glanced at Invictus, but his eyes seemed to be staring through the mage, as though he couldn’t quite focus on him. After a moment, the Antivan lifted a hand and clumsily patted Invictus’ arm before turning to stumble away.

“That... that doesn’t look very good,” said Cullen quietly. “Arden, do you think....”

“We can’t do anything for Zevran here,” said Arden heavily. “Let’s get him and Meneris back.” He glanced at Anders, then swallowed.

“It’s still me,” said Anders in a small, slightly wistful voice. “I’m still here. I’m just... a little different now. There’s... more of me.” He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment. “So many thoughts, memories, it - it’s taking a little getting used to. My... my body feels... odd. The wrong shape. I... excuse me, I’m sorry, I know I’m not making any sense....”

Fenris glanced at this Anders briefly before turning back to Meneris and Dorian. “Arden, can you get us back?”

Arden nodded. “Yes, I think so,” he agreed. He turned and walked a little way apart from the group, shaking out his hands as he drew a deep breath before he called upon his magic. A glowing ball of light formed between his hands before he threw it out into the form of a portal; the shimmering surface swirled and then irised open to show the parlour of the suite of rooms he had been sharing with Invictus, Zevran, Fenris and Anders. They could see Hal leaping up from a chair where he had been sitting reading.

Arden gestured for them to go through; Fenris and Dorian guided Meneris through first, Invictus and Cullen following after, one each side of Zevran who stumbled through as though sleep-walking. Anders followed after, and Arden brought up the rear, letting the portal wink out of existence behind him.

Hal halted as he stared at the white-haired Anders, then glanced uncertainly to Arden.

“Hal, I think we three need to talk,” said Arden as he took Anders’ arm and began leading him towards the room he and Hal had been sharing. “If the rest of you will excuse us?”

“But what about Meneris’ arm?” exclaimed Cullen. Arden paused and glanced back.

“I... am sorry,” he said in a tone of regret. “There’s nothing I can do. Take him to his rooms, let him rest. Sleep will do far more for him now than any healer could.” He lowered his head and stared at the floor for a moment, then turned away, guiding Anders into his room.

“Zevran?” said Invictus quietly.

“Sleep... I would like to sleep,” said Zevran in an absent tone. His eyes still seemed unfocused.

Fenris turned and stared at Zevran, then exchanged worried looks with Invictus. “Zevran? Talk to us, Zevran.”

Cullen moved to take Fenris’ place supporting Meneris, and the white-haired elf moved swiftly to Zevran’s side.

“Forgive me, _carissimi_ , I... do not feel quite myself,” murmured the Antivan as he rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. He swayed slightly, and Fenris grabbed at him to steady him.

“Woah, easy there, Zev,” said Invictus.

“What’s wrong with him?” said Fenris, growing more alarmed.

“I think I would like to lie down now,” slurred Zevran, lowering his hand as his head drooped and he leaned into Fenris’ support. 

“I’ve got you Zevran, its ok love.” Fenris scooped the smaller elf into his arms and headed for their rooms without a backward glance at the others. The Antivan’s behavior had frightened him but he knew if he showed how badly he was affected, it wouldn’t help their husband.

Meneris grabbed Dorian with his remaining hand and asked them to go to their rooms. “I think Zevran has the right of it, I would like to lie down my heart.” 

Dorian slipped his arms around Meneris’ waist and drew the elven Inquisitor to him. “Let’s get you to our room, _Amatus_ ,” he said quietly, casting a worried look back at Zevran as Fenris bore the Antivan away before he turned his attention fully to his husband. “Cullen?”

“Right with you, Dorian,” nodded the commander. “I’ll notify Josie to send healers and cancel all further business until further notice.”

“No healers,” said Meneris as they moved towards his own rooms. “I just want to rest with Dorian.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor,” nodded Cullen. “I shall guard your rooms personally then and none shall disturb you.”

“Thank you, Cullen,” replied Dorian as they moved as swiftly as Meneris was able towards the sanctuary of his own suite.

Meneris was silent until they were behind closed doors, his gaze going to the stump he was left with instead of the arm he still felt. “Gone...he’s gone and took my arm. Dorian. Look at what he did to me!” Meneris said as he sat there, dejected and afraid. 

“The cost was too much, all of it. All of this was too fucking much.” the elf said as the tears he’d held back finally fell.

 

 

**

Fenris had tried to put Zevran down, but the other elf wouldn’t let go of him after they’d arrived in their rooms. Even after putting him down, he found himself held close. “Zevran, you need to let go. I just need to step out for a moment to call for food for us all. I’ll come right back, I promise.”

Zevran seemed to stare dazedly through him for a moment before slowly releasing his hold on Fenris; he allowed Invictus to guide him over to the bed. The blond elf sat upon the edge, then slowly stretched out atop the coverlet; his eyes closed as his head touched the pillow.

“Zev?” asked Invictus quietly.

Zevran’s eyes opened slowly; they seemed almost devoid of their usual colour as he gazed sightlessly, eyes unfocused. After a moment he rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes again, all without saying a word.

Invictus sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for Zevran’s hand; the elf let him take it, his only response a very faint, barely-breathed sigh.

“Come on, Zev, talk to me,” pleaded Invictus. “What’s wrong?” As the elf remained silent, the mage swore quietly to himself. He desperately wished Anders were well enough to leave his bed - perhaps the Antivan would have responded to Anders even if he and Fenris couldn’t get through to him. But Anders may as well have been half a world away from them; even if he were well enough to leave his sickbed, it was better to maintain the deception that he were dead.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Solas’ revelation that the Bull’s words had been true - that it was Cole who had been the unknown assassin who killed their husband. If so, then perhaps nowhere was safe for Anders - if Cole knew his attack had, ultimately, been unsuccessful, then would he try again? How could he stop a spirit? Perhaps it was Carver’s presence that deterred Cole now; he had no idea.

Invictus groaned and ran his free hand slowly over his face. He was exhausted - they all were. 

He glanced back at Zevran and realised the Antivan had passed silently into a deep sleep; he sighed. Maybe that was for the best. Whatever ailed the blond elf, maybe a long rest would help.

He wondered how Hal was reacting to the revelation that their Anders was now Mythal - and how that would affect them all in the long days to come.

Fenris came in to find Zevran sound asleep, or unconscious and Invictus not looking well either. “Is he as unwell as I think?” he spoke quietly as he wrapped an arm around his human husband. 

“Yes, probably worse. He seemed to look right through me and just rolled over and was asleep in moments. That’s for the best, but its damned unnerving.” Vic replied with a return arm around the elf’s waist.

“I’m surprised he took this long to crack honestly. All that’s happened and he’s been the most stable, until now. I need a bath Vic, then I’m going to get incredibly drunk and probably sleep for a few days, unless you need me?” 

Vic’s voice hitched as he contemplated asking to join the warrior but he figured someone should be awake in case Zevran came around. “No, just don’t get too drunk love, you know you’re mean when three sheets to the wind. I...I’m afraid Fen.” 

“Afraid of what?” Fenris asked as he felt Invictus pulling his arms around him and snuggling against his chest. 

“What will happen to us, I’m worried for Zevran, Meneris and the other Anders...or Mythal, or whatever he is now. Will Solas try and kill us all in a few months, a year, five? I’m just scared and I need you right now, please.” Vic curled up close as he could to his husband and held tight.

Fenris’ fear spiked with both Zevran and Invictus so fragile, their Anders still in reclusion. He wasn’t the best at comforting anyone but both men needed him. “Vic, let’s get under the covers if you want to be held, ok?”

“Ok.” Vic reluctantly let go so he could help Fenris tug the blankets from under their Antivan husband, before stripping off and crawling in next to him. 

The warrior doused all but a couple of candles before getting out of his own armor and joining them. He had barely turned to his back before Invictus had wrapped around him again. “I love you Vic.” he whispered at the feel of his husband’s arms around him. 

“Love you too, just...be here when I wake up, please?” Vic pleaded.

“I will, just...rest.” Fenris let his fingers card through the other man’s hair slow and steady until the mage’s grip on him loosened and he heard soft snores from his love. Sleep didn’t come for him until the room darkened with sunset.

 

***

Hal stared at the white-haired man as he sank down into a chair, his eyes wide in shock.

“You’re... you’re _Mythal_?” he repeated, dazedly.

The tall mage grimaced slightly. “It’s... more complex than that,” he said quietly. “The essence of the being once known as Mythal... yes, she resides within me now. But I still retain all my memories and awareness as Anders. I should imagine that in time I shall become much as Flemeth was - Mythal and I become one, no delineation between us.”

“So, not like Justice, then?” ventured Arden as he crossed to a side cabinet and pulled out glasses. He poured wine for them all and handed a glass to Hal, who seemed still in shock.

“No,” agreed Anders as he accepted a glass. “I retain my own memories, but I also now retain Flemeth’s - and all those who came before her, right back to Mythal herself. I _am_ Mythal. But I am also more.”

“Then... what do we call you?” asked Hal slowly. 

Anders cocked his head on one side and pondered. “I had not considered the issue of names,” he said thoughtfully. “I have had so many; and so few that were truly mine. Even ‘Anders’ was not my real name - only what the templars called me.” He smiled faintly at Hal. “What is in a name though? It matters little to me - Anders, Flemeth, Asha'Bellanar, Witch of the Wilds; I am all these and yet none. I do not think it wise for you to call me Mythal however - I am not yet ready for my people to know I walk amongst you.”

“Your people?” echoed Arden sharply. “Are you speaking of the elves?”

The white-haired mage blinked. “I speak of mortals, Arden Hawke. Evanuri I may once have been, but I have dwelt amongst the people of this world for millennia now. All of Thedas are my people, be they elf, dwarf or human.”

“You don’t even sound like Anders anymore,” said Hal quietly. The white-haired man turned to glance at Hal, a stricken look crossing his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he replied with a small shrug. “This must be very hard for you. You lost me once already, and now it must seem that you are losing me a second time.”

Hal swallowed hard then nodded as Arden crossed over to stand beside him, resting a hand comfortingly on the younger mage’s shoulder.

“What are your plans now?” asked Arden. “And are we a part of them?” He regarded the man who had been Anders with a bleak expression. “By your talk of us losing you, it doesn’t sound like we are.”

“The Inquisition will likely disband, I think.” Anders turned and began to pace slowly, the glass of wine unheeded in his hand. “Flemeth was uncertain as to what would happen once she surrendered Mythal’s spirit to Solas; this -” he gestured to himself with his free hand, “was unforeseen. As Anders, I had but only lately regained my memories of myself, and I was merely attempting to come to terms with all that had happened to me. Now as Mythal I find myself inhabiting an unfamiliar-as-yet form, and it is too soon to be able to tell how matters will play out. Solas has finally shown his hand and it did not occur to him that I would not share his aims; but I do not know yet how I may thwart his desires.” He glanced up and Arden and gave him a small, mischievous smile that was almost pure Anders. “Thankfully, nor does Solas. And that will make him cautious. He has made too many mistakes, and that will be his undoing eventually.” 

He turned and paced again. “You ask of my plans; at present I have none. Nor, I think, do you?”

Arden slowly shook his head. “I don’t think any of us had thought further ahead than to the end of this damned Council. Anders - the other Anders, that is - and I had already discussed with Leliana his retirement as Grand Enchanter; we hadn’t yet decided as to his replacement. It was Leliana’s wish that I take that role openly.”

“But not yours?” replied Anders. Arden shrugged.

“I hadn’t yet decided,” he admitted. “Wherever I go, Hal will come with me. We will not be parted again.” Hal reached up silently and placed his hand over Arden’s as it tightened slightly upon his shoulder.

Anders nodded slowly as he resumed pacing, deep in thought. 

Finally he glanced up at the two men. “I would go with you, if you will permit?”

“Are you asking as Anders, or as Mythal?” asked Arden, arching one eyebrow.

“Both,” confessed Anders. “As Mythal, there is much I can do to aid the mages and, through them, the rest of Thedas to thwart Solas’ plans, and you may find much of use in my counsel.” He walked slowly towards Arden and Hal. “And as Anders... I have missed you both,” he confessed, a wistful tone in his voice. “I... don’t want to be parted from you. Not so soon after finding you both again.” 

He hesitantly held out his hands towards them, his face open and vulnerable. “Please?” he whispered.

Hal rose to his feet and took Anders’ hands before glancing to Arden. 

Arden’s eyes met those of Anders and he stared at him for long moments as the silence stretched out uncomfortably before his expression softened.

“Anders,” he sighed gently before moving forward to wrap his arms around both men.

 

***

Meneris opened his eyes, slightly groggy after he’d been put to sleep with a potion after he refused to let Dorian use magic on him. He tried to sit up as always and cussed as he fell back on the bed. “This is going to get old really fast.”

Dorian stirred and opened his eyes, then sat up as he realised Meneris was finally awake. “Amatus?” he inquired quietly.

“I can’t ...I tried to sit up and well.” Meneris glanced at his stump and tried to tamp down on the anger that rose up. “He ...I’m going to murder Solas, and enjoy every second of it.” 

“And I do not think anyone would begrudge you that at all, Amatus,” replied Dorian. “If anyone has that right then it’s you.” He leaned over the elf and pressed a gentle kiss to Meneris’ forehead as he slid an arm around his husband’s waist and hugged him close before straightening, bringing Meneris up with him. He kept his arm around Meneris’ waist until he’d managed to brace his one arm against the bed and was balanced, then drew away slightly.

“And I will be by your side no matter what happens,” went on Dorian. “And I think you will find that you will not have to hunt the bastard down alone, if the look on Cullen’s face was anything to go by. Solas will find he has made a grave error by underestimating our people.”

Meneris glanced away as he tried to control himself. Getting angry with Dorian wouldn't help him. “Well he’s safe for a while, I can't even sit up without help, how the bloody hell am I going to kill him like this?”

Dorian swung his legs out of bed then rose, reaching for his robe and slipping it on. “I think he found his plans somewhat in disarray by Mythal siding against him. It will take him a while to establish himself I think. And you still have one good hand, Amatus; Fenris was right - you can still fight. Of course it will take you a little while to fully recover - but then, after what we all went through, you are hardly alone in that.” He paused for a moment, thinking on Zevran’s state as he’d seen the elf last, and sighed. “We have time on our side, I think. The Qunari are thwarted. Solas evidently is nowhere near ready to do... whatever it is he plans to do, or he would have done it. I think he had not anticipated Mythal refusing to ally herself... himself? Hmm... well, in any case, he did not plan to do without Mythal as an ally, and now he knows that _we_ know of what he intends, if not the manner in which he plans to achieve it.” He made his way to a side table and poured two glasses of wine, bringing one back to Meneris.

“I’m not in the mood for a drink, thank you love.” Meneris got to his feet and went to the wardrobe, eager for a change of clothes and a bath. He stared at the armor and formal wear he’d brought. None of it was something he could put on one-handed. He shut the wardrobe and paced instead, unable to sit still and settle his mind.

Dorian set one glass down and sipped from the other as he watched the elf pace. he frowned slightly, then moved to sit on the end of the bed as his eyes followed Meneris. “Love?” he asked softly.

The elf stopped, guiltily looking to his husband and back to the stump of his right arm. “At least I didn’t lose my wedding ring?” Meneris quipped before he sobered and caught himself trying to cross his arms as he normally would when nervous. “Assuming you ….still want to be my husband?” 

Dorian stared at him for a moment, then set the wineglass down as he rose to his feet; in a couple of strides he was standing before Meneris. He stared down at the elf and lifted one hand to tenderly cup Meneris’ cheek.

“Do you truly need to ask, Amatus?” he whispered, blinking hard against the sudden stinging in his eyes. He gently kissed Meneris as he pulled the elf closer.

“Yes, I’m scared Dorian. I’m scared that my usefulness is over and you won’t want me anymore. I ...I’m not dealing with this well, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to ...why is this so hard?!” Meneris asked with a tremble to his voice that he hated.

Dorian cradled Meneris’ face tenderly in his hands as he stared into his husband’s eyes. “Love, I didn’t marry you for your usefulness,” he said softly. “I married you because I cannot bear to live without you. I love you, Meneris - and it would take far more than this to drive me from your side. Only death itself could drive us apart, I swear it.” He swallowed hard. “I love you. I will always love you. Never doubt that, Amatus.” 

Meneris leaned into his husband’s embrace and cried, relieved and still angry at how high a price he’d paid. “I love you Dorian, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” murmured Dorian. “You have every right to be angry, and I would doubtless not be much better than you if our positions were reversed.” He held Meneris close and closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. “I will not coddle you,” he promised him. “I know you will hate that - far too many will try to coddle you and I promise I will not be one of them. But I do hope you will allow me to help you, Amatus - it will take time for you to relearn things. Let me be your good right hand until I am not needed for that.”

“Ok, I can do that.... I think. Once I am not so volatile, I will ask Fenris for help in re-learning to fight. Do you think he’d help me?” Meneris said as he wrapped his arm around his husband and held tight. 

“I don’t think it’s in his nature to make idle offers without the intent of following through on them,” Dorian replied. “I think you may find that once he and the others have rested and recovered from this Qunari business, he will be only too glad to assist. Possibly Zevran too. I know Cullen certainly will. You will have no shortage of tutors, Amatus.” He smiled at Meneris.

“He’s still grieving, and Zevran...he wasn’t looking well either. I don’t want to be a bother Dorian but I can’t just accept this without fighting either. Fuck.. why this, why me? Why did I ever go to that fucking temple?” Meneris closed his eyes again as he rested against Dorian’s chest. 

“I concur that there was something decidedly not right about Zevran,” nodded Dorian. “Perhaps grief finally caught up to him? I did think he’d seemed entirely too calm - eerily so. But then grief can affect people strangely sometimes.” He pressed a kiss to Meneris’ forehead. “We will all get through this in our own ways, love. Let Fenris and Invictus take care of Zevran. They know him better than anyone else, after all.”

“True, and they have had to do so much right after losing Anders. Can we get dinner sent here, or...is it breakfast time?” Meneris asked as he pulled back and made his way to the bed, tired and ready to go right back to sleep.

“Breakfast, I think,” replied Dorian as he turned towards the door. He took a couple of steps then halted, an uncertain look crossing his face. He frowned and put a hand to his forehead. “That’s... odd,” he said, half to himself. “That’s.... no, it couldn’t be... surely not?”

“What’s the matter? You look bothered, well more than you did before amatus.” Meneris was curious as to what he’d felt.

Dorian glanced at him, his grey eyes wide with alarm. “I can sense the Taint,” he said quietly. “But... it’s not a Warden, and there’s no way darkspawn could be inside the palace.”

“The other Anders? He was a Warden in their Thedas wasn’t he? Or is this someone else?” Meneris was curious but not unsure if he should be alarmed, yet.

“The other Anders had no sign of the Taint within him - possibly because he’d technically died; certainly I never sensed it around him. No, this is someone nearby - but how?” Dorian glanced around at the walls as if he could somehow see through them to the source of contagion he sensed. “Damn it, I’m too new at this Warden business still,” he sighed. “Nathaniel doubtless would know what and where it is.”

“Do you want to see where or who it is and I’ll get some more rest?” Meneris offered as he slowly got himself on the bed and under the covers after a struggle. “I could use a bit more rest honestly.”

Dorian gave him a long, measuring stare, then slowly nodded. “Alright. I think the other Wardens haven’t left yet; I’ll see if I can find Nathaniel. He should know of this in any case.” He made his way over to the bedside and leaned over Meneris to kiss him. “Sleep well, Amatus.”

“I’ll try my love, be safe. Wake me when you’re back please?” Meneris held on as well as he could until Dorian pulled back. “Thank you, for letting me be vulnerable with you.” the elven warrior curled up in the blankets and was asleep before Dorian had gotten too far.

 

***

Nathaniel walked slowly along the hallway beside Dorian, glancing at each door they passed. “And you’re certain you felt it near here?” he asked.

“It was as I was standing near the door of our suite,” Dorian nodded. 

“All my Wardens have been with me in the guest quarters in the other wing of the palace,” said Nathaniel with a small frown. “I’m not aware of any other Wardens having been in the palace apart from you - and Anders, before he died, of course,” he added. “But -”

He broke off and stared at a door a few paces down the hall. “Dorian, who is staying in those rooms?” he asked slowly.

The Tevinter magister glanced at the door in question. “Arden, Hal and that white-haired Anders are staying in one of the rooms, and I think Invictus, Fenris and Zevran are sharing the other together.”

“Well, it’s certainly not Anders,” said Nathaniel with a frown. “I’d know the feel of him anywhere. But there’s something....” He stared at the door, his mouth set in a grim line. “Have any of them come in contact with darkspawn recently? Or been to the Deep Roads?”

“Darkspawn? No, not as far as I’m aware,” said Dorian.

“Damn. Because there’s definitely Taint here - and it’s no Warden, but not darkspawn either.”

“Blight?” said Dorian worriedly. 

“You’d best pray not,” replied Nathaniel darkly. “Come on.” He crossed over to the door and knocked briskly.

There was silence for several minutes; Nathaniel was just lifting his hand to knock again, when they heard the sounds of someone moving towards the door. A moment later, it opened and Arden glanced at them in surprise.

“Dorian? Nathaniel? Is something the matter?” he asked.

“You’d better let us in, Arden,” said Dorian, with a worried glance at Nathaniel who was frowning at the door to the suite that Zevran, Fenris and Invictus shared. Arden stepped aside and stared as Nathaniel moved across to the closed bedroom door.

“I think they’re sleeping,” called Arden as Nathaniel lifted a hand to knock on the door.

Which opened in time for Nathaniel to smack Fenris in the face. “I know we’re not the best of friends, but no need to hit me Howe.” the elf said as he pulled the door almost shut and glared at the dark haired warden. “What did you need?”

Nathaniel stared at the door. “Fenris, is there anything in your room which might have come from the Deep Roads?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking after you hit me in the face.” Fenris grumbled as he considered the question. “Not that I know of, you...know we already sent his things ahead to Skyhold so, nothing should be here. Why?” 

“Amicus, we... we can sense the Taint,” said Dorian as he walked to join them at the door. “And... it’s inside your room.”

“No, no its not. That’s too much after all we’ve been through. Besides, Zevran is not well, and Vic isn’t far behind. You won’t disturb them for this nonsense.” Fenris glared at them as he shifted to keep them out. 

Nathaniel’s gaze switched from the door to Fenris as his eyes narrowed. “What ails Zevran?” he asked softly. “I’ve never known him to take ill. His constitution puts that of some Wardens to shame.”

“He’s in shock, and I’m sure exhausted, hungry and just..not well. I’m the only one of us upright and I will protect my husbands Warden.” Fenris caught the flicker of anger that tried to catch and burn. He flexed his hands, trying to subtly hide the claws that wanted to grow. 

“What’s going on?” asked Arden as he closed the main door of the suite then made his way over to the others. 

“We can sense... the Blight,” said Dorian slowly, his expression troubled.

“Fenris, I appreciate you are concerned for Zevran,” said Nathaniel grimly. “But if he’s somehow come in contact with the Taint then the sooner we know, the sooner we can act.”

“But - wait, how would that be possible?” exclaimed Arden. “We haven’t fought any darkspawn!”

Nathaniel glanced at him. “Think hard - all of you. Is there any way one of you might have come in contact with a Warden’s blood?”

“Certainly none of mine,” said Dorian. “And you and I were very careful not to let any of the others come in contact with yours when Fenris made the antidote for the poison that nearly killed Anders back in Skyhold.”

Fenris glared at the two wardens for a moment then remembered the day of Anders death, the way Zevran had…”Fuck.” 

Arden’s face had grown pale even as Fenris suddenly remembered.

“The knife,” said the blond mage. “The one Cullen brought. Zevran licked it clean of blood.”

“ _Vishante kaffas!_ ” swore Dorian. “That was Anders’ blood!”

Nathaniel stared at Fenris. “I think you’d best let us in, Fenris,” he said quietly.

The tall elf opened the door and got out of the way, his expression troubled. “Forgive me, I’m just worried for them.” Fenris said quietly as he watched them approach Zevran.

Nathaniel stared down at the sleeping Antivan, then sighed softly. He glanced back at Fenris.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Arden gripped Fenris’ shoulder in sympathy.

“No...please don’t tell me that. Not after we lost Anders, please.” Fenris blinked away tears as he looked to his elven spouse. “I can’t...we can’t lose him.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” said Nathaniel. He turned and strode from the room swiftly.

“Where -” began Arden.

“The Joining,” said Dorian, his tone subdued. “There are... preparations he’ll have to make.”

“How can you just walk out after telling me this?” Fenris asked before he took a nearby seat. “Dorian...it will kill us to lose him do you understand?” 

“Believe me, amicus, if he doesn’t go through the Joining then his death will be certain, there’s -” Dorian broke off. “Wait. Maybe....” His eyes widened, and then he turned and began swiftly pacing, muttering to himself. As he strode past Fenris and then back again, Fenris caught a few of the words; something about orichalcum that he couldn’t quite follow.

“I don’t understand at all… what are you on about?” Fenris asked.

Dorian spun on his heel to stare at Fenris. “Amicus, do you trust me?”

“Yes, if it will save him, anything you need is yours! My life, anything to save him.” Fenris pleaded with the magister. “I don’t care what you have to do.”

“Some time ago, before you and I went to Tevinter, Zevran came to me to ask me if I could find some way to treat the Taint in Wardens,” Dorian explained. “He was deathly afraid of Anders experiencing the Calling - and he knew that I had found various treatments for my friend Felix which had prolonged his life and greatly slowed the Blight. It wasn’t a cure, but it was a start. I have a vested interest in curing the Blight and putting off my own Calling anyway, but with Anders being so much closer to his Calling than I, it meant I had added incentive to pursue my research.”

“You found a cure?” exclaimed Arden.

“I don’t know that I would call it that - but certainly my experiments were proving rather promising,” replied Dorian. “I need to return to Skyhold for my notes and certain potions and reagents - but at the very least we can give Zevran a fighting chance.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Please Dorian.” Fenris begged.

“I must warn you, the treatment won’t be pleasant - it was intended for treating a Warden, rather than a normal case of the Blight,” Dorian cautioned him. “But I think it worth the attempt. We must go now - I’ll need your help to carry things.”

“Carry what? Why are you in our room and loud on top of it?” Vic asked as he sat up. “Wait I’m not going to like this am I?” 

“No, Dorian is going to help us, right?” Fenris looked to his friend then down at his husband. “Please…”

“I am certainly going to do my best, amicus,” agreed Dorian. He glanced at Zevran, who was stirring slightly.

The Antivan opened his eyes drowsily and gazed sightlessly towards the sound of voices; the light reflected off milky-white irises as Zevran blinked dazedly. Arden swore softly to himself.

“No, this can’t be. We haven’t been near the Deep Roads. How did this happen?” Vic demanded.

“The knife,” said Dorian bleakly. “The one Cullen took from Anders’ body.” He turned to Fenris. “We must go swiftly.”

“Of course, let us go. Vic watch over him until we return.” Fenris fell in with Dorian, anxious to get done. 

Dorian began calling up power, swiftly shaping a portal. As it swirled open they could see it led directly into Dorian’s room.

“Arden, do be a fellow and keep it open for us,” Dorian asked as he gestured for Fenris to follow him; the blond mage came forward and deftly took control of the energies.

“Hurry,” he urged them.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wil Zevran survive? What happens to the Inquisition once all is said and done?

Invictus watched as Fenris and Dorian disappeared into the portal, aggravated as he lost sight of them. He watched anxiously, jumping as he felt a weak touch to his arm. 

“I’m here Zev, hold on for us, please,” Vic pleaded, his gaze flicking between the portal and the blight-sickened elf. 

“Invictus... I am sorry. We should have had longer, my love,” murmured Zevran weakly.

Arden glanced back over his shoulder at them both, but said nothing as he held open the portal for Dorian and Fenris’ return.

“Don’t you fucking say that, don’t even whisper it. You’re gonna be ok, Zev.” Invictus gave him a smile though he was sure his husband couldn’t see him properly. “Just...rest love.” 

Zevran’s Blighted eyes gazed sightlessly in his direction as he gave a small sigh. “All those years of fighting alongside the Wardens, and yet it is now that finally the Blight has caught me. It was the blade, wasn’t it? And so Anders’ assassin claims me instead....”

Arden glanced back at him again and frowned, then he looked at Invictus. “What does he mean... instead?” he asked slowly.

“Not now,” Vic replied as he fought tears. “Later...I’ll tell you later, just tell me if they are coming back.” 

Arden glanced back through the portal; his arms were beginning to tremble slightly from the strain of holding the portal open. “Not yet... Dorian is gathering notes... Fenris has several bottles and vials in his hands.”

“Invictus... I have only one last request,” murmured Zevran quietly. “Bury me in Antiva....”

“No...no talk of burials, please Zev. You can’t do this, you can’t go. Fenris will be shattered, I’ll be no good...Cal, Pin, Wynne they need their uncle. Don’t you dare talk like that...please,” Vic begged as he failed to keep his voice from shaking, his hand gripping harder as he stared at the assassin that had taken his heart.

Zevran closed his eyes; a tear slipped from beneath his eyelids. “I am sorry,” he breathed. “Forgive me.”

The door was abruptly opened and the white-haired Anders lurched into the room then halted, staring at Zevran.

“Taint. He is tainted,” he said tersely. He turned and stared at Invictus. “When? How long ago?”

“Right...after And---” Vic paused as he considered the man before him then turned away to hold Zevran. “After our Anders died, he licked the blade clean of his blood. None of us were in a good way, none of us thought to stop him from doing it. Why?” 

“How long?” repeated Anders as he walked slowly towards the bed and stared down at Zevran. “How long before you entered the Eluvian the first time? How much time passed after you all left, before you came back and Meneris lost control of the Mark?”

Invictus glanced at Anders, Mythal...whoever stood before him and tried to remember. Things had blurred together with the loss of their husband. It had seemed like an eternity between giving him over to Carver to care for his body, their attempt at stopping the Qunari and Solas...even more for the funeral. 

“A fortnight at most, I think. It's been kind of a blur since he...since we lost him. Why, what are you going to do?” Vic asked as he held Zevran to him, almost afraid of what could happen.

The white-haired Anders drew a slow, deep breath. “Then we may have a little time to halt this.”

“They’re coming!” interrupted Arden. His face was sheened in sweat and he was visibly trembling with the strain of holding the portal open.

Fenris leapt through the portal, his arms full of vials and potion bottles; Dorian was a step behind, clutching sheafs of papers covered in scrawled equations and a couple of leather-bound journals. The moment they were through, Arden let the portal snap shut then dropped to his knees with an audibly-ragged gasp.

Fenris glanced at the white-haired version of their love and stared until he felt Dorian tugging at him. “Yes, where do you need these?” 

Invictus stared at the other mage - or goddess - while holding Zevran close. “What do you mean? You’re not going to hurt him.” 

“That table,” said Dorian tersely, gesturing to a small table to one side. “Bring it over to the bedside.” He started rifling through his notes and laying papers out across the foot of the bed, muttering arcane words under his breath.

“I will not hurt him,” said Anders firmly. “I swear it. But I think I can help.”

Dorian paused and glanced at Anders, his eyebrows raised. “You... ah, of course,” he nodded with dawning realisation. “You’re still a Warden? Your... ah... death, it didn’t change that?”

Anders smiled grimly. “Yes, I’m still a Warden - though Mythal’s presence abates the effect of the taint. Which is why I think I can help.”

Fenris had pulled the table over, and moved out of the way, unsure if he was needed or would be more of a hindrance. He watched Dorian work, though Vic’s touch made him jump. “Don’t...surprise me Vic, my heart can’t take it right now.” 

“Hold his hand, I’ll take the other, while they work. I’m scared Fen.” Invictus felt tears on his face but didn’t bother to dash them away; let them see how frightened he was. 

Anders moved to the foot of the bed and reached for one of the sheets of calculations then paused and glanced at Dorian. “May I?” he inquired.

Dorian gestured wordlessly, and Anders picked up the sheet and studied it intently. “Here,” he murmured, pointing to one diagram. Dorian moved to his side and stared down at the page. “At this point,” went on Anders. “I can help. There’s... I can only describe it as an infusion of spirit energy... if applied at that point...”

“I think I see,” said Dorian slowly. “Wait -” he cast around then crossed the room to a writing desk, coming back with quill and ink. Hastily he scrawled out something on the page; Anders nodded, then took the quill and neatly jotted down corrections on one of the equations.

“By the Old Ones, I think I see!” exclaimed Dorian. “That’s it! That’s what I was missing all along! How -”

Anders straightened and gave him a strange, sad smile. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to explain it,” he said softly. 

He glanced at Zevran’s pale face, and his expression grew sombre. “We haven’t much time.”

The two mages worked hurriedly yet with measured steps, consulting the notes and weaving magic together. As they gestured for different potions, Fenris wordlessly passed them to Anders who imbued them with some form of energy Invictus couldn’t recognise before passing them to Dorian.

Each one was carefully fed to Zevran; by the fourth one, the Antivan elf was awake, gasping and writhing as he clutched his stomach. By the sixth, he was retching. The seventh had him screaming in agony.

After the ninth, he lay exhausted and quiescent in Invictus’ arms; pale, yet there seemed less bruising around his eyes, the dark grey veins of taint beneath his skin receding and fainter.

Fenris held one of Zevran’s hands in his, gaze locked to the other elf’s as he waited for him to open his eyes or speak, give a sign he had made it through the torment of being healed. “Zev? Can you hear me? Please?” 

Zevran was still for a moment, then his eyelids flickered and he slowly opened his eyes. Fenris and Invictus both exhaled breaths of relief as they saw his eyes were their normal gold, if somewhat dazed and bewildered.

“ _C-carissimi_?” he managed after a moment, his voice thin and weak.

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re ok? Please tell me you feel better,” Fenris begged as he brought the other elf’s hand to his lips. 

Invictus leaned over to kiss the elf’s forehead, grateful that he’d been spared. “I’ve never been happier to see you open your eyes.” 

“I feel weak,” murmured Zevran. “Have I been ill? What has happened? I have had the strangest dreams, it seems - No, wait, it... it was real? Anders....where....”

“Things got strange after we went to avenge our love, and...well, this will sound wilder than Varric’s stories but first, tell me what you can recall and I’ll fill in the rest,” Fenris said as he brushed a bit of hair from the other elf’s eyes. 

“I’ll get water for him.” Vic excused himself before he lost his composure as well.

“It is all so confusing,” confessed Zevran. “Anders... I saw him die... but he... he came back to us? And the white crow... where did the white crow -” He stiffened suddenly, his eyes widening. “Fen’Harel. Mythal. They truly walk among us. I did not dream that.”

Anders blinked, then moved away, slowly rubbing at his temples as his face contorted, as though fighting down some unknown emotion.

“Sorry love, but this Anders...is the one that came from Arden and Hal’s world. But yes, Mythal and Fen’Harel do walk Thedas. Mythal...she... inhabits the other Anders now. That bastard Fen’harel is known to us as Solas. You did not dream it, I wish you had.” Fenris gently lifted Zevran up so he was sitting against the headboard. 

Zevran glanced around the room dazedly until his eyes fell upon Anders, who lifted his eyes slowly to meet Zevran’s gaze.

“I... I am not-” began Zevran haltingly; Anders held up a hand, grimacing.

“Stop. No. I am not godess. I never was. The Evanuri... are not gods; we should never have set ourselves as such. That was our downfall. Zevran... you are worthy of everything I can give you. You deserve to live.” Anders’ voice was firm, even as his gaze was troubled. “I... I am both Mythal, but I’m also Anders. I’m both. Don’t... don’t fear me. Please.” 

Invictus returned to find Zevran almost backing away from the other Anders, Fenris looking a hairsbreadth from a meltdown or hysterics and Arden on the floor in a heap. “Makers balls, Arden!” He set the flagon of water down before helping the other mage to his feet. 

The blond Champion swayed against Invictus; Dorian swiftly moved to Arden’s other side to help take his weight. “The portal spell is fairly demanding,” he said in a low undertone to Invictus. “He needs rest and lyrium.”

“I’ll be alright in a minute,” argued Arden, his words slurring and betraying his exhaustion. 

“You most certainly will not,” retorted Dorian.

Anders was looking at Zevran helplessly, looking far more like the apostate mage so familiar to them all and very little like some immortal elven goddess.

“Take him to his room please _amicus_ ; I will tend to Zevran while you help him, Vic,” Fenris asked as he looked to the Antivan elf and back to this foreign Anders, his gaze uncertain. 

“Thank you both for saving him, I ...do not wish to think on what would happen if the blight had claimed Zevran.” The warrior was quiet, unsure of himself.

Dorian was leading Arden slowly towards the door, the blond apostate querulously protesting that he would be fine, the weakness of his voice giving the lie to his words.

Anders was backing away slowly, his face troubled and sad. “I’m sorry. I do not think Zevran is yet ready to be near me,” he said softly. “And I am not yet enough myself to explain to him the truth.” 

Fenris rose and approached slowly then dropped to one knee. “I would thank you for saving him; anything you ask, it’s yours, Mythal. You saved me as well, so know that I am in your service. What would you have of me?” 

Anders halted then stared at Fenris, tilting his head in a manner eerily reminiscent of Flemeth, the gold of his eyes seeming almost to glow in the candlelit that lit the room. “The elves bow the knee too easily,” he said quietly, his voice distant. “To whom do you bow? I ask no fealty such as this.” He gestured to Fenris to rise. “Do not offer yourself so swiftly without knowing to what you are offering to pledge.” He gestured to Zevran. “Love him. Give him what I cannot. I merely resemble him who you truly love. Go. Take him to Nevarra. Live, be happy. Spread your wings, dragon child; you have leapt and learned that you can truly fly.” He turned and gave Invictus a smile that was pure Flemeth. “Alas, I can give _you_ no wings, child. You must be content with those of your husband. Yet I think they will suffice, will they not?”

Fenris rose and waited until Anders had turned back to him. He kept the other’s gaze as he spoke, hopeful that he would be understood. “I do not bow easily, you know this Mythal, you know all that I suffered when you healed me. I offered my service in thanks and to remind you of the promise made in Your temple. It was in thanks again, for saving Zevran, that I bowed to you. I do not offer my service easily, or lightly. If you have need of me, I will come to you, until then I’ll take your advice and take them away from here, so we can be happy again.” 

Invictus had slipped past them to join Zevran, curious as to what had moved Fenris to offer to serve anyone, goddess or no. He held the other elf close, a bit fearful but proud of his first love.

Anders returned Fenris’ gaze and slowly lifted one hand to cup Fenris’ cheek. “Dear child,” he murmured softly. “You have endured much, and yet you are willing to endure more. I will not ask more of you than you can give. A great storm is coming, such as all Thedas has never seen, and you must stand before it. I cannot see if you will prevail, but I pray that you will. Until that time however, look to those who need you.” He blinked, and his golden gaze softened. “I... should go,” he said very quietly. “I am not yet used to this form or this mind... I... I am beginning to forget who I am. Who I was. This... it was not meant to happen.”

“Go then, and when you call I will be there. Thank you again, for everything.” Fenris gave them a smile before returning to his spouses. He approached Zevran as if the other elf would disappear any moment. 

“May I hold you?” he asked softly.

“ _Si_ , carissimi,” whispered Zevran, slipping from Invictus’ arms to curl up in Fenris’ embrace. He closed his eyes. “This is all too much for this poor Antivan boy, and I am very tired.”

Anders withdrew silently, and they were alone.

**

Fenris held Zevran close and finally let go of the tears and worry he’d held back. “You’re safe, you’re safe...thank you Maker, Mythal… I don’t care.” The elven warrior held the slighter elf close, but was mindful of his strength. 

“Fen?” Vic rested a hand on the Tevinter elf’s shoulder, just to feel a tremor.

The warrior didn’t answer, he was holding Zevran and sobbing, nearly silent except for a hitch in his breathing every so often.

“I was a fool,” murmured Zevran weakly. “Forgive me. I have brought you both such worry and pain.”

“Quiet carissimi, save your strength. I am just grateful you remain with us.” Fenris whispered to him while Invictus tried to get the slighter elf to take more water.

“Fen, let him up a bit so he can drink this.” Vic asked worriedly.

With their help, Zevran was able to sit up. He seemed wrung out and exhausted from his ordeal. He sipped the water slowly until he had had his fill, then lay back against Fenris and sighed.

“I am tired of fighting and nearly dying. I wish this were over and we could leave with Anders, take him somewhere safe,” he murmured weakly. “Can we be done with this now, _carissimi_?”

“Yes, we’re done Zev.” Fenris agreed as he let his thumb trail over the back of the other elf’s hand.

“We’re done, so done. When you’re able we’re going home. To the Void with all of them love. You both deserve to rest.” Vic had taken the other side of the bed, keeping contact with Zevran as well.

“Anders... must he still be hidden, keep up this pretense he is dead?” asked Zevran softly. “I wish he were with us.”

Fenris glanced to the Antivan elf, unsure of what revealing the truth would do. “I don’t know. I wish him here as well but do not wish to harm either of you with trying to teleporting him to us, or you to him.” 

“I would be willing to take that chance, if it meant we could be together,” sighed Zevran. “Take me to him, _carissimi_ \- my heart is stronger than his just now, I think? I do not care what harm it may do me - it cannot hurt any more than being cured of my own stupidity did.”

“Go on love, I’ll keep visitors away and explain that Zev wanted to recover at home, our home in Nevarra and you took him. I’ll deal with things here, and send a message when I am ready to return.” Vic kissed Zevran on the forehead, then reached over to kiss Fenris on the lips, only to be pushed gently away.

“I’m...I’m not ok right now Vic. I need, I’m ...just let me get Zevran home, and we can talk later, alright?” Fenris glanced down, worried. 

Zevran lifted a hand to trail his fingers down Fenris’ cheek. “ _Carissimi_? What troubles you?” he whispered.

“Everything, I’m ...on edge. Nearly losing you, then having to witness that...cure, has me undone. I just want to go home. I …” Fenris choked up and covered his face with a trembling hand.

“Fen?” Vic asked quietly, worried that the warrior was going to pieces in front of them.

“ _Carissimi_?” exclaimed Zevran weakly, alarmed and worried. He struggled to sit up and he reached his arms around Fenris, holding him close as he rested his head upon Fenris’ shoulder. “I am here, I live, my heart,” he said fervently. “It is over, it is done, and we can put all of this behind us now.”

The Tevinter elf just sniffed as he fought to keep calm, enough to get them home and then fall apart. 

“Do you need anything? What can I do Fen, please talk to us, if you can.” Vic was alarmed but didn’t want to panic Zevran either. 

He was distracted by a sudden knock at the door, and then the voice of Aeolus calling.

“Fenris? Brother?”

“Don’t let him see me like this.” the words were muffled as he got close to Zevran as he could, wanting only to hold the other elf as proof he still lived.

“He is your brother, _carissimi_ ,” murmured Zevran. “And perhaps he may help us all travel home to Nevarra? He and Arden?” He relaxed into Fenris’ arms, his eyes fluttering closed. “So tired,” he breathed. Between one breath and the next, he passed into deep sleep, his exhaustion finally overcoming him.

Invictus wasn’t sure what to do with Aeolus knocking and his longest love seeming to close in on himself. “Fen, maybe you should let him in, he’s your brother and will understand.”

The elven warrior had slid to the floor, one hand still twined with Zevran’s and his head resting against the covers. “I’m...I can’t Vic. I just can’t. Do what you will, it doesn’t matter.” 

Zevran had fallen gently back onto the bed as Fenris slid to the floor; he lay peacefully sleeping, as if nothing and no-one would wake him.

“Fenris?” called Aeolus, his voice sounding worried. “Invictus? I know you’re both in there!”

“Coming!” Vic let his brother-in-law in, gesturing at Fenris. 

“He’s not doing well, and I don’t know what to do.” Vic admitted.

“ _Venhedis_ ,” muttered Aeolus as he took in the scene. “If only Anders were alive....” He shook his head sadly. “None of this would be happening if he were still with you. Fate has been too cruel to you all.” He crossed the room and stared down at the unconscious Antivan and shook his head sadly again before he turned to his brother.

He crouched down beside Fenris and laid a hand gently on his knee, instinctively avoiding letting the lyrium in his own hands touch that of Fenris.

“Fenris? Brother?” he said gently.

Fenris looked to his brother, then closed his eyes. “I asked that you not be let in, I don’t want you seeing me so...frail. What did you need brother?” he said softly.

Invictus poured both elves a half glass of wine, hopeful that his sibling’s presence would help rather than push him further away.

“I need nothing, Fenris,” said Aeolus gently. “But I can see you are hurting. There is no shame in showing vulnerability to those who love you, Fenris. Did you think I would think less of you?” He tilted his head to one side, regarding Fenris sombrely. “I think the only way you could lessen my opinion of you would be if you were to cut your wrists, dance naked under the moon and reveal yourself to be a maleficar. I don’t think that very likely however, do you?” He smiled gently.

“That’s not funny.” Fenris said though there was no heat in his words. He took the wine from Invictus, and let his head rest against the mages thigh. 

“Forgive me,” said Aeolus, bowing his head for a moment before eyeing Fenris keenly. “But do you see my point?”

The younger elf stared at his sibling for a long time, until finally he nodded. “I’m sorry to worry you, I’m just ...not doing well and I want to go home.” Fenris admitted.

Vic let his hand drop to the base of Fenris’ neck to massage him, hopeful it would help.

Aeolus reached for Fenris’ free hand. “Anders would not have wished you to be so distressed,” he said gently. “What can I do to help? I can teleport as well as you, if not better - was it not I who taught you? Let me take you back to Skyhold.”

“Skyhold isn’t home.” Fenris muttered.

Vic glanced at Fenris then to his brother-in-law. “Aeolus, if we tell you something you have to keep it in confidence, you have to swear it to us.”

The red-haired elf looked up, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Invictus. After a moment, he nodded his head. “I swear upon my life,” he vowed.

“Anders isn’t dead.” Vic blurted out before he felt the way Fenris whipped his head up to stare at him. 

“Invictus Endrin Hawke…” he snapped, but his tirade was cut short by a firm hand on his shoulder.Aeolus was staring at Invictus in bewilderment, then disbelief, then finally in shock, his lips parting but unable to speak.

He finally managed to find his voice. “Not - not dead? But... _how_??”

Vic fiddled with the bedding as he spoke, sure to avoid the baleful glare of his husband. “We really don’t know. He was dead, he died in my arms but after our trek to avenge him, Carver started acting strangely, then Zevran confirmed it wasn’t him lying in state. All he says is Andraste brought him back, that it wasn’t his time to go. I wish I could have a better explanation for you.” 

Aeolus looked thunderstruck. Finally he nodded slowly. “So... he lives. Where is he? He should be with you all. Fenris obviously needs him.”

“He is still weak, I do not dare bring him here. I will not let them get their claws in him again.” Fenris snarled. 

“Then tell me where he is, and I shall take you to him,” said Aeolus firmly. “Or if you prefer, I shall bring Arden here and he shall make a portal that opens nearby. We do not need to tell him why, unless you wish to bring him into your confidences? I think the secret would be safe with him.”

“I...I don’t know what to do.” Fenris admitted before he got up to pace. He was restless, but he knew if he gave in to what he was feeling, it would hurt his husbands.

Aeolus got to his feet. He turned to Invictus. “Who else knows Anders is alive?” he asked.

“You, us, Carver, the Divine, the Inquisitor, Hal, Ellowynne, Pin and Cal. I think that’s it?” Vic said as he watched the other elf.

“If Hal knows, then Arden should be told,” said Aeolus as he folded his arms. “It is not fair to leave the burden of such a secret on his young shoulders after all he has been through.”

“Very well, that can wait until after he has rested I think. If we tell him now, the shock may be too much.” Vic replied while he watched Fenris make a circuit of the room.

Aeolus blinked. “Has something happened to Arden?” he asked, unfolding his arms as he turned to watch his brother pacing like a caged tiger. “What happened to you all when you went back through the Eluvian? Meneris returned minus an arm, Zevran seemingly at death’s door, and now you say Arden may not be able to withstand the shock of what should be joyful news!”

Fenris continued to pace while he filled Aeolus in on all that happened when they went back through the eluvian. He finally slowed down as he finished with the truth of what Solas was, and how Arden had struggled to keep the portal open while he and Dorian sought out supplies for curing the Taint. “So you can see we’ve been a little busy, brother.”

Aeolus was struck dumb by the import of what he’d been told. As Fenris finished, it was his brother’s turn to pace as he tried to take in all he’d been told. 

“This is... far more than I had....” He shook his head violently. “No. I could not have envisioned any of this. Fen’Harel revealed to be a mortal elf and part of the Inquisition - an organisation, an _army_ he had a direct hand in forming, creating, for his own ends - the destruction of everything? And for this, he sent someone who was a trusted member of the Inquisition to murder Anders? And Zevran nearly killed by the Taint... Arden half dead from his efforts....”

He turned and stared at Fenris, then shook his head slowly. “Brother. Truly you have all been to the Void and back.”

“Now you see why I am at my limit? Will you now understand why I am on edge?” Fenris asked dully before he resumed his place by Zevran.

“We understand love, believe me we do. Besides having Aeolus take us home, what can I do for you?” Vic asked. 

“I understand now,” nodded Aeolus. “Whatever you need, ask it - I will do whatever you require.”

Fenris laughed without mirth as he glanced up at his brother. “What I wish, you will not grant my sibling. For now, let us rest then when Zevran awakens, help us go home. Get Zevran to Anders so he may be with him, and I wish to tell Pin and Cal of our plans so they don’t worry.” 

Vic glanced down at his husband’s words. “Do not wish for that Fen, it will kill me, us. That’s not a solution.” 

Aeolus blinked. He wasn’t sure what Fenris was asking, but a cold shiver went down his spine at Fenris’ words; there was such a tone of finality to it. “I... will do as you ask regarding Zevran,” he nodded slowly. “Come find me when he awakens, and I will take him to him.” He glanced to Invictus, worry plain upon his face.

Fenris glanced at Vic, unsure what he meant. “Wish for what? I ...I do not want what you are thinking. I just wish I could make it so none of this happened, that Anders never died, that Meneris didn’t lose his arm, Void...even as much as never having done any of this.” 

“You wouldn't know of Pin and Callus if that wish came true. Do you wish to lose them in a fit of remorse love?” Vic asked gently.

Zevran stirred slightly upon the bed, rolling onto his back, his arm reaching across the bed as if searching for something. He sighed softly and murmured something inaudible.

Aeolus watched him before turning his gaze to Fenris. “I think I understand,” he said quietly.

“No..yes, I don’t know Vic. I’m just ...I’m broken and the only thing keeping me from shattering? Knowing what it would do to Anders in his state, and Zevran. I’m afraid that if I cry, I won’t be able to stop; or it will become hysterics.” Fenris admitted as he reached for Zevran’s hand.

Aeolus glanced at Invictus. “Tell me how to find Anders, and I shall carry him here - in my arms and on foot, if he is too frail to withstand teleporting,” he said.

“It would take a long time to ferry him here by hand, but if you can be gentle with him. Or if I ...wait.” Vic grumbled and smacked himself for being stupid. “I forgot that Dorian showed me how to do a Fade Step and the portal thing. Maker I’m stupid.” 

Aeolus blinked at him, then began to chuckle. “ _Venhedis_ , you had the ability to bring Anders here all along??”

“I, um, well…” Vic laughed at himself. “I’ve had a lot on my mind and just now thought about it. Give me a bit, and I’ll go get him.” 

“Please be gentle Vic, he’s still recovering.” Fenris asked as he brushed some of Zevran’s hair from his face as the elf settled down. Zevran murmured something in his sleep then curled up around Fenris.

The warrior stretched out next to his Antivan husband and tried to relax, but found he wasn’t able to yet. 

Aeolus studied them for a moment, then turned to Invictus. “Tell me where to take you,” he said quietly. “We will go fetch Anders together, and you can open a portal after. From your words, it sounds like Anders is quite frail. I shall carry him. Tell me; is little Wynne with him? I have noticed she seems to have disappeared. I thought she had returned to Skyhold, but you say she knows her father lives - I imagine she will not be parted from him?”

“She will not leave his side, no.” Fenris said as he tried to get comfortable with Zevran in his embrace.

“We can bring her as well, though it will be harder to keep the secret with both of them here.” Vic said.

“Leave that to me,” said Aeolus firmly. “And I shall break the news to Arden also - gently, of course. None shall disturb you all.”

“Do as you will, I am going to try and sleep until you return with them.” Fenris mumbled.

“I’ll leave a note that they are not to be disturbed so we can go.” Vic said.

Aeolus nodded. “Then, shall we go?” he asked. “Where to?”

“The chapel, it's close enough to arrive without startling him and for others to see us approach. I’m hoping Ellowynne is happy to have company.” Vic said as he led them out of the suite.

Aeolus held out his hand to Invictus. The mage took it; there was a familiar lurch, the sideways tug, and then he was stumbling into the chapel as Aeolus released his hand. Nausea rolled through his stomach, twisting it rebelliously. He clutched the end of a pew as he doubled over and fought not to spew his meal over the floor of the chapel; after a few minutes of heavy breathing, he was able to straighten, nodding to Aeolus that he was alright.

He led the elf through the secret passage to the rooms where Anders had been resting and recovering. They found him sitting in a chair by the fire, the blond apostate dozing with an open book forgotten upon his lap.

“It’s going to take a while to not want to touch him just to prove he’s still alive.” Vic said as he approached. “Love?” he called out while gently prodding the other mage.

Anders stirred slightly, his eyes slowly drifting open. At first his gaze was unfocused, until finally he gazed up at Invictus with a smile. “Hello, love,” he said quietly, his voice thick with sleep.”Have I been asleep long? I missed you.” He reached out his hand towards Invictus.

“For a while I think, missed you too love.” Vic took his hand and kissed the palm. “I’ve brought a friend.”

Anders smiled sleepily at Invictus, then glanced over to Aeolus; after a moment, he smiled at the other elf. “Nakusa! I haven’t seen you since - since -” He looked up at Invictus. “Love, remind me?”

“The wedding,” Aeolus prompted gently as he came forward. “You remember, Anders? Meneris’ wedding to Dorian. You were Meneris’ best man. You gave a speech. And afterwards, Fenris restored my memories. I’m Aeolus. You remember?” 

Anders blinked, then slowly nodded. “Oh yes,” he realised. “I’m sorry, Aeolus. I’ve... lost a lot since... since I died.”

Aeolus blinked, then looked to Invictus with an expression of worry.

“It’s alright love, we’ll help you remember. We came because we wanted to take you for a visit, Fen and Zev could do with your presence. Wynne too.” Vic gave him a grin before taking his hands. “It’s not the same without you.”

Anders smiled, then nodded. “Wynne’s asleep - over there on my bed. Where are we going? I’m bored of these rooms; Carver won’t let me go anywhere. He says it’s for my safety, but I’m so lonely. You and Fenris haven’t visited in days, and Zevran not at all!”

“We’re going to see them, Zevran is tired as is Fenris. They need you love and will be very happy to see you. I’ll get Wynne if Aeolus would be kind enough to take you while I open a portal.” Vic brushed a kiss to the blond’s cheek before rising.

“Yes, I’m ready!” agreed Anders as he rose to his feet, the book falling forgotten to the floor as he stumbled, glancing to Aeolus before hugging Invictus. “Oh, Maker, take me to them, _please_!”

“Of course love, just let Aeolus carry you and let Wynne follow so I can send you with a portal.” Vic gave him another kiss before gently nudging him towards Aeolus. “I’ll get the imp up.”

Anders turned to Aeolus.”Be gentle with me?” he said plaintively as the elf stepped forward.

“Always, said Aeolus as Anders threw his arms around the elf's neck trustingly. Aeolus looked to Invictus, who had the sleeping Wynne in his arms. 

“What’s easier, you holding Wynne and Anders while I open the portal? Or waking her to follow us through?” Vic asked, reluctant to wake his step-daughter.

Aeolus glanced between Anders, who was leaning against him with his arms draped around the elf’s neck, and Anders’ daughter who was cradled in Invictus’ arms. He extended an arm. “Give her to me; I can manage them both - at least whilst you open the portal,” he replied.

“As you need.” Vic handed her over before settling himself to open a portal back to their rooms. “Ready when you are.”

Aeolus shifted slightly, balancing father and daughter between his arms, then staggered forward through the portal until he stood by the bedside next to Fenris and Zevran.

Anders stared down at his two husbands, then smiled at Fenris as he released his hold on Aeolus. “Fen! I’ve missed you so much,” Anders whimpered as he took an unsteady step towards the elf. “Is - is Zevran alright? He...” He halted and stared at the sleeping Antivan. “What... what happened to Zevran?” 

Fenris went to him, happy to have the mage in his arms. He just needed to hold Anders for a bit before filling him in. Anders’ eyes widened as Fenris described all that had happened; as Fenris described Zevran licking his blood from the knife, he made to reach towards Zevran but Fenris held him tight as he murmured of the cure the other Anders and Dorian had cast. 

As Fenris explained what they had learned from Solas and the remainder of the tale, he trembled in Fenris’ arms and by the end, he was weeping quietly. 

“Zevran - he’ll live? You’re telling the truth?” he begged. “Oh Maker - a cure for the Calling....”

“Yes, he’ll live. Dorian and...a little divine intervention are to thank for it. Please don’t cry love, he’s going to be fine and he’ll be so happy to see you. Come and lie down.” Fenris said as he moved to lay them both down next to the Antivan elf.

Vic came through the portal shaking his hands of excess arcane energy. “No wonder Arden fainted, that’s a damn drain.”

Anders turned and reached a hand towards him. Despite Fenris’ words, tears were rolling down his face, even as he cradled Zevran to him, held in turn by Fenris.

Relieved of Anders’ weight, Aeolus moved around the bed to tuck the sleeping Wynne in the other side of the bed before turning to grin at Invictus.

“I believe I’m done here,” he said quietly. “I’ll be outside; I’ll make sure you’re all left in peace.” He moved to the door; they were left together in sudden silence, broken only by the quiet sniffs and gasps of Anders as he tried to quell the sobs that threatened to break forth.

Vic stared at the bed full of his loved ones, glad they were reunited and hopeful that the shock of travel didn’t harm their husband. There was no room for him with two elves, a rather tall human and their daughter all together. He opted for a chair, more wine and a book until they awoke. 

Anders let his arm fall and slumped back against the pillows. He patted Fenis’ arm around his waist as though to reassure himself the elf was really there, even as Zevran pressed himself closer in his sleep. He looked over to the chair where Invictus sat, and then his eyes drifted close as he sank back into a deep sleep.

**

Meneris watched as Dorian paced while rapidly explaining what he’d accomplished. While he knew a little of magic, all the theory and formulae his husband went on about was well over his head. “Amatus, slow down please? This is all beyond me.”

Dorian paused and stared at Meneris. “My love, don’t you see? We _cured Zevran of the Blight!!_ ” He paused and waited; as Meneris stared at him, still baffled. Dorian rolled his eyes.

“ _Amatus_. I know the cure. I can cure myself of the Calling. I will not die in the Deep Roads however many years hence. Do you see? It took eight potions for Zevran, but I am certain I can condense that down to one - two at most.” 

“So you won’t be beholden to them? Can you do this sooner than later?” Meneris asked as he got to his feet and joined the magister. 

Dorian drew a deep breath. “I can,” he nodded. “In fact. I could likely do it right now. It won’t be pleasant -” He grimaced, remembering Zevran, writhing and screaming in agony in Fenris’ arms. “But I can endure it for this - to live, free of the taint.” 

“What do you need? Can I help?” Meneris asked, eager to free his husband of the corruption that would claim him sooner than later.

“I think I have most of what I need here,” replied Dorian as he crossed to the table where his case of potions and reagents lay. He glanced back at Meneris. “This will be... unpleasant,” he warned his husband. “I will likely be in a great deal of discomfort. Are you sure you want to be present for that?” He was sorting through various reagents, setting them out on a table nearby. He selected a vial and decanted a pale gold liquid into a flask, then reached for another containing a dark green liquid and carefully began to pour the viscous stuff slowly into the flask before swirling the two liquids together.

“What do you mean by unpleasant? Why would I leave you alone to suffer this? We married remember, you’re stuck with me no matter what Dori. Tell me what I can do.” Meneris watched him work, concerned for what could be to come.

Dorian paused, a flask filled with something dark in his hand as he turned back to Meneris. “I... will likely scream a great deal, he admitted slowly. “Towards the end, Zevran seemed to be in a great deal of agony. I think I’ve refined the formula a great deal - it will all happen much faster. I’m afraid this means there will be... a significant strain upon my body.” He held up a hand as Meneris made to speak. “Which I am willing to endure!” He added hastily. “But... it might be... _upsetting_ for you to witness,” he added quietly.

“Dorian, you watched me lose an arm. You saw me have an utter and total breakdown, I think I can take this. If it is too much, I will bear it because I love you. I will endure it, and after, if I need it I’ll cry or whatever. Anything to rid you of the Taint.” Meneris leaned in and kissed Dorian for a while before stepping back. “For luck.”

Dorian gave him a smile that was marred slightly by the faint look of fear in his eyes; the smile slipped from his face as he turned away and reached for a flask of dark red liquid. Murmuring beneath his breath, he drew upon his magic as he decanted the dark fluid and the red fluid into a third flask. It hissed and bubbled, giving off a stench of something foul and rotting that made Meneris gag.

Dorian picked up the flask and turned back towards Meneris with a tremulous smile. He swallowed hard.

“Bottoms up,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, and then he downed the potion.

He gagged, then blanched, the empty flask dropping from his fingers as his hands flew to his throat, eyes widening in alarm as he gasped for breath. He dropped to his knees, a gurgling sound coming from his throat; and then a shudder ran through his body.

“Dorian?” said Meneris as he made to step forward; the stricken mage flung up a hand as though to stall him, before wrapping both arms around his stomach as he doubled over, retching. Another shudder ran through him, and then he collapsed to the floor, writhing and screaming.

“Dorian!” exclaimed Meneris as he dropped to his knees and clumsily tried to gather Dorian to him with his one good arm. Dorian was shuddering, face contorted in agony as he screamed hoarsely before suddenly he stiffened, eyes rolling back in his head. Abruptly his body convulsed as a choking sound came from his throat.

“Inquisitor!” exclaimed Cullen as he burst in, Josephine but a step behind. The Commander took in the scene at a glance. “Maker - I’ll get the healers!” he shouted as he turned to leave.

**  
Invictus had started awake at the scream he’d heard, unsure if he was dreaming or not. Surprised it hadn’t woken either elf, he dashed out to see Cullen sprinting towards him.

“Who was that?” he asked as the blond got to him.

“Dorian,” Cullen replied, panting slightly. “I’m not sure what’s wrong - I think he may have been poisoned. He needs a healer.”

“Fuck… I’ll get Mythal, Anders….whoever they are now, you get Hal.” Vic ran over to the suite shared by the others, banging loudly while calling for Anders. “Dorian needs help!”

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it opened and the white-haired Anders stood there, clad in one of Arden’s spare robes. Behind him, they could see Hal sitting up drowsily. “Anders? What’s going on?” they heard him call, his voice thick with sleep.

“Something wrong with Dorian -” began Anders, just as the door to the other bedroom opened and the other Anders peered out, confused. “Vic? What’s wrong?” 

Cullen’s head whipped round at hearing Anders’ voice coming from two different directions; as his eyes fell upon the blond Anders, they widened. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, only a faint strangled noise of disbelief.

“Goddamit, why are you up Anders? Go back to sleep, we’ll handle this.” Vic said as he glanced at Cullen then gestured at Fenris to take their love back to bed. 

“You’re making enough noise to wake the dead Vic, what is going on?” Fenris mumbled as he wandered to the doorway.

Cullen seemed to finally find his voice as he stared at the blond Anders; he took a step towards him. “You’re dead. You’re dead, I saw you die - we all saw you die! You can’t be here!”

“But... I _am_ here,” protested Anders dazedly as he rubbed an eye sleepily. He let out a squawk of alarm as Cullen suddenly lunged towards him, grabbing his upper arms and shaking him. 

“You’re supposed to be _dead!_ Have you any idea what you’ve put us all through? What you put your _daughter_ through??” he shouted. Anders’ eyes widened in alarm.

“Commander you have until the count of one to unhand my husband or I will be most displeased with you.” Fenris said as he approached the warrior.

“We don’t have time for this, we’ll explain later! Dorian sounded like he was dying from that scream. You, Mythal, Anders...whoever you are, go to the Inquisitor’s quarters, now.” Vic ordered before he turned to his spouses. “Cullen, unhand him now.”

Cullen snatched his hands away as if burned; Anders backed away from him, one hand lifting to clutch at his robes over his heart as he wheezed slightly.

“I’ll come with you,” Hal said as he appeared at the white-haired Anders’ side, taking his arm and tugging him in the direction of the door.

Fenris pulled their Anders back into the room and shut the door before he gently got him back to bed. “Did Cullen hurt you love? If he did I’m going to murder him, slowly.” 

“I... no, no I’m not hurt,” Anders replied slowly. He turned to Fenris with a guilty look. “Oh love - what he said... Maker, I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for you all to see me die. And little Ellowynne....” he broke off with a wince as he clutched at his heart again. “M-my chest hurts....”

“Just take it easy, just relax for a bit and once Dorian is taken care of, we’ll...explain this. I’ll get food sent to the room and you can rest, alright love?” Fenris gave him gentle kiss before he helping Anders lie back with a lot of pillows behind him for sitting up. 

“I’m sorry,” Anders murmured breathlessly. “I’m being a burden and a nuisance, and now you’re worried about me again.”

“Anders, you are never those things. Cullen shouldn’t have grabbed at you and shouted. I will have words with him later, very harsh and strong ones. Now let me take care of you ok? Please, I...we just got you back here and whatever you need, I’ll get it. What would you like to eat?” Fenris’ voice had gone soft and indulgent, eager to do anything so Anders would relax.

Anders shook his head. “No food, but... tea would be good,” he said quietly. He glanced down at Zevran, who still slept deeply beside him.

“Of course love, mint, willowbark, chamomile, what would you like?” Fenris was all smiles and soft words for the mage as he brushed a few loose hairs out of Anders face.

“Willowbark,” Anders decided. He stared up at Fenris’ face and smiled softly. “Do you think we’ll ever live in that house in Nevarra we talked about so often?” he said quietly. “Sometimes it seems like only a dream.”

“Yes, after all is done here we are going to Nevarra my heart. Even if I have to turn to a dragon and fly us all there. We will be free of this sooner than later and we can rest, I swear it. I failed you once and I will not squander the miracle of your return.” Fenris tried to give him a smile, though he jumped at the feel of Anders thumb across his cheek, surprised to feel tears flowing again.

“Don’t cry,” whispered Anders as he gazed up into Fenris’ eyes. “You didn’t fail. None of us could have known what would happen. But I’m safe now, here with you, and Invictus, and Zevran. And soon this whole Inquisition mess will be behind us and we can be far away from here.” 

“I’ll try not to, didn’t even realize I’d started again. I’m tired Anders, and once this council is done, we’re leaving. Nothing will stop me from keeping you all safe, nothing.” Fenris gave him a kiss on the forehead before stepping away to request tea for his husband, and food for the rest of them.

 

***

Hal stepped back from the bed and ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at Dorian, who lay unconscious in the bed.

“Well, he’ll live,” he said slowly. “Maker, I have no idea what it was that he took but... there’s no trace of the taint anywhere in him.”

“It was a cure he and I worked on to save Zevran,” said the white-haired Anders slowly. “But he seems to have done something to accelerate it somehow. Potentially dangerous without a healer on hand - though he was fortunately strong enough to survive the experience.” He turned to Meneris. “Such a cure is apt to be as dangerous as the Joining itself. But Dorian has been fortunate; he will live.”

“I’m going to murder him when he wakes up, that took a few years off my life.” Meneris said shakily as he stared at his husband then back to the other Anders. “Thank you for saving him.”

The white-haired mage inclined his head. “Be thankful that he is strong and fit; a lesser man would have died. Your husband is too stubborn to give up life however.” He smirked slightly. “An admirable trait for a necromancer.”

Hal turned and frowned at Anders before he turned to Meneris. “He will likely sleep for some time. He may not awaken until some time tomorrow, and likely be hungry and thirsty when he finally does wake up. But there should be no lasting damage.”

Meneris nodded as he continued to watch Dorian breathe, until he was satisfied the other man wasn’t going to expire the second he looked away. “If you could have something sent to our room, I think I need to sit down for a while. Thank you again, all of you.” 

“I will arrange food, Inquisitor,” nodded Josephine before excusing herself. Hal approached Meneris with a concerned look.

“Inquisitor, you look exhausted and in pain. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Fix my arm? Make it so my husband isn’t an idiot?” Meneris replied as he took a seat.

Hal gave him an apologetic smile as he knelt down at the elf’s feet then reached for the stump with fingers that glowed blue; he gently worked to relieve the pain in the stump as he glanced up at Meneris. “I’m sorry; I cannot regrow limbs - to the regret of several soldiers back at Skyhold, I’m afraid. All I can do is ease the pain. I do believe that Dorian will have learned a lesson - when he eventually awakens.”

“I know Hal, I’m just worn down. After food arrives, please leave word that we’re not to be disturbed. The damned Exalted Council can hang in the Void for all I care right now. Thank you for you what you can do, its appreciated.” Meneris gave the young mage a smile before he ran a hand through his hair. 

Cassandra had been lingering near the door with Cullen; at Meneris’ words, she advanced a few paces into the room. “Inquisitor... the Exalted Council insist they will not wait. They demand an answer to what you propose to do with the Inquisition.”

Cullen stepped forward; a moment later, Josephine reappeared from her errand and joined them.

“Inquisitor, we’ve been discussing the issue between us,” said Josephine.

“Behind your back, I’m afraid,” shrugged Cullen. “But it didn’t seem right to disturb you after all that’s happened.”

Cassandra glanced to him, then back to Meneris with a small nod. “Inquisitor, I think we all know how you feel about the Inquisition. We feel that perhaps it is time to put an end to it. We have achieved what we set out to achieve, and more. With your permission, Inquisitor, I will end this for you. It was I who undertook the commission of starting the Inquisition from the Divine Herself. The Council will not be able to gainsay me if I am the one to end it in your place.”

“Just promise me you’ll give them a two finger salute before you leave the hall, from me and the bottom of my heart. Do as you will Cassandra, with the caveat that Skyhold remains mine, it's the least those vultures can do for us, that’s my final request as Inquisitor.” Meneris glanced away, unsure whether to be happy or worried for what was to come.

Josephine came forward, bearing her portable writing board; she laid it upon Meneris’ lap, inked the quill then held it out to him as she gestured to a document upon the board.

“It requires only your signature, Inquisitor,” she said quietly. “It will be your final order - the disbanding of the Inquisition. Skyhold is yours.”

Meneris laughed bitterly as he struggled with signing. “I’m right-handed, or was. There, that will have to do.” he nudged the board away, eager to have them all out of their rooms.

Josephine took back the writing board then dashed off her own signature beneath his, witnessing it. She handed it to Cullen and Cassandra in turn who did likewise, then she handed the document to Cassandra. It was only then that meneris noticed she was carrying a large, leather-bound book beneath one arm - a book that seemed very familiar. The commission for the Inquisition.

“It shall be done, Inquisitor,” said Cassandra. She saluted him then. “May I say... it has been an honour to serve with you, Meneris Lavellan.”

Cullen likewise saluted; Josephine placed a hand over her heart and bowed low. As she straightened, she was blinking away her tears.

Hal rose to his feet and straightened his robes as he stepped away, then formally bowed to the elf. There were tears in his mismatched eyes also as he straightened.

“It has been an honour to serve as your Healer,” he said quietly. “I remain at your service until you have no further need of me. Call upon me at need.”

Meneris dashed away tears at their words. “Dammit, you’re making this so hard. It's been an honor, to serve you as well. Don’t let this be farewell, please?”

Cullen snorted softly. “You haven’t seen the last of any of us yet, Inquis- Meneris,” he corrected himself. “Cass and I will be coming back to Skyhold with you, as will Josie. It’ll take months to wind things up fully.”

“Indeed,” nodded the diminutive woman. “The diplomatic issues will take some time to resolve also, including dealing with Tevinter and the embassy there.”

“We will leave you in peace now, Meneris,” said Cassandra. “We will take the news to the Exalted Council.”

“And I for one will take great pleasure at the look on Teagan’s face when I convey your final greetings to him with my own hand,” grinned Cullen mirthlessly.

“Please let me know how that goes Cullen, I will enjoy it just as much.” Meneris grinned at his former commander. “Now go on, so I can have a bit of quiet before this one come around. Thank you, all of you.” the elven warrior gave them a final bow before straightening up and taking up next to his husband.

Hal and Anders crossed the room to stand with Cassandra, Cullen and Josephine. As one, they all bowed to Meneris once more before quietly leaving the room.

***

The Exalted Council was convened hastily an hour later.

When Cassandra exited the hall fifteen minutes later, flanked by Cullen and Josephine, the deed had been done.

The Inquisition had been disbanded. It was over.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past will never let some of them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter, but it's nearly the end.

As Cullen had predicted, disbanding an organisation the size of the Inquisition was no small matter. It took several months to arrange. Troops in different countries had to be recalled and pensioned off, and it would take some time until all of the scouts had been located. Those in nearer camps were recalled to Skyhold for decommissioning, but those further away had to be reached by messengers and dismissed in the field. Lace Harding took on that duty personally, together with a small select group of scouts.

Calpernia was granted the land deeds to the embassy in Minrathous and a sizeable pension in recompense for her work in tidying up diplomatic ends in Tevinter. She confided in Dorian a desire to work with the Lucerni.

Varric returned to his beloved Kirkwall, where he took up his duties as Viscount once more.

Arden, Hal and a tall, white-haired individual who very much resembled the late Grand Enchanter returned to Vigil’s Keep with the Wardens. It quietly became known that there was a cure for the Calling; though it was known that there were at least one Old God yet sleeping and thus there must be one more Blight to come and therefore yet a need for the Grey Wardens, it meant that those who heard their Calling had a choice now between taking one final journey to the Deep Roads - or surrendering the Taint, though the cure was not without dangers and could, on occasion, prove fatal.

Nathaniel chose to take it, when his Calling came. He survived, and remained the Warden Commander of Vigil’s Keep. The Wardens were not known for wasting talent and experience, after all.

Arden Hawke’s true identity was uncovered when he attended the Conclave in Cumberland; it had met to decide upon a new Grand Enchanter. To his surprise, Arden was nominated to the position and voted in by a majority.

Hal stayed by his side.

The being once known as Mythal but also as Anders came and went mysteriously, staying for a few weeks then one day disappearing on some unknown mission of his own. When in the company of Arden and Hal, he would take the form of a white crow, often as not.

Skyhold became the home of Meneris Lavellan and his husband, Dorian Pavus - though Dorian often spent time in Minrathous; the Lucerni took much of his time and attention, as did his duties in the Magisterium. He would return each evening to Skyhold however.

Cassandra and Cullen retired to Nevarra with their daughter.

Two months after the end of the disbanding of the Inquisition and a year after the end of the Exalted Council, Cullen sent a panicked letter to a certain house in Nevarra, far and remote.

***

Anders stared down at the letter in his hand, and began to laugh heartily. The sound made Invictus look up, surprised; it was rare that Anders laughed so loudly.

“Love, what’s so funny?” Vic asked as he set aside his book to see what had gotten the other mage going.

Anders flapped the letter at Invictus, still laughing. “Cullen - he, he - oh Maker, this is too delicious!” 

Invictus took the letter, and soon joined his husband, even tearing up as he continued to laugh at the missive. “We...shouldn’t laugh at him, but this is so funny.” Vic gasped.

Zevran chose that moment to walk in from the garden, one of his ravens perched upon his wrist. He carried the bird over to a stand near a window then turned to his husbands with an arched eyebrow. “Something must be very funny indeed to have you both laughing so?” he remarked.

“Read… this… letter.” Vic got out before he collapsed into a chair, still cackling. 

Bemused, Zevran took the letter and scanned it before he, too, began to chuckle. Anders had already collapsed into a chair, clutching his chest as he wheezed slightly, still giggling helplessly.

Fenris happened to walk in at that moment to find all three of his husbands nigh-incapacitated by mirth.

He stood there watching for a moment before Meneris came up behind him, unsure what was keeping the other elf from their sparring. “What happened? Did Zevran loose one of his poisons by mistake?” he asked.

Fenris shrugged and approached cautiously, unsure what could have sent them all into such a fit. “Should I send for Hal? Can any of you talk?” he asked, his gaze on Anders for how he clutched at his chest.

Anders managed to flap a hand at him weakly, still giggling helplessly between gasps. Zevran wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand before holding the letter out to Fenris.

“Nothing of my doing, accidental or otherwise, I can assure you,” he smiled. “It seems that Cullen has discovered something... unexpected... regarding his daughter.” At his words, Anders clutched at his chest as he doubled up in wheezing laughter.

Fenris took the letter, however unlike his spouses he failed to see the humor in the former commander’s news. “Would you have laughed at me thus when I found out about Pin?” he asked solemnly. 

Anders was gasping for breath, but he managed to sit back and regard Fenris with a slightly apologetic look, though words were still beyond him.

“ _Carissimi_ , you never stood guard over Anders whilst viewing him as less than human,” Zevran pointed out quietly, his mien more serious. “Nor did you ever lock him in a dark cell. You did not hunt him down to imprison him, or lay a whip to his back, hmm? Cullen has come a long way from those dark days when he viewed mages as subhuman, but permit our loves a little mirth at what he doubtless still will view as his misfortune.”

Anders had quietened, his breath still coming wheezingly though he was no longer clutching his chest, and his laughter had given way to a thoughtful look as he regarded Fenris.

Fenris tapped the letter against his leg as he stared back at Zevran, unsure what to say. He didn’t agree with their mirth at the former templar’s luck of having a mage child but he didn’t want to fight either. 

“I will write to him, enjoy this little joke of fate as you will.” He tossed the parchment back to Zevran before heading to the kitchen as he’d intended.

“I take it that’s what set you lot off into a fit?” Meneris asked as he took the letter. 

Anders nodded as he managed to rise from his chair. “He writes to ask if I will teach her,” he replied, still somewhat breathless. “Of course I will. But you must admit, it’s ironic. Once he was my jailer, and now he wants to entrust his only child to me.” He turned towards the kitchen. “Fenris is unhappy. I should go to him,” he said quietly.

“Leave him be love, you know how he is once he’s in a mood. Besides, Meneris has to leave tonight so let’s not take from their sparring time,” Vic said as he brushed himself off and pulled Anders close. 

“He’ll be fine, or pretend. Either way, I’ll see you when we finish for the day, he’s a relentless taskmaster on the field,” Meneris said as he rolled his shoulders and rubbed at the silverite arm that Dagna had built for him. “I should make him buff out the scrapes for me.”

Anders relaxed into Invictus’ embrace and nodded after a moment. “You’re right,” he conceded. “He’ll only get even grumpier if I chase him, and I’m too tired and out of breath to fight even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

Zevran glanced at the superficial scratches upon Meneris’ silverite arm and shrugged. “I think he will deal with those quite willingly when you point them out,” he replied. “Me, I will not try talking to him too much just yet - but I do not think I would care to face him in a sparring ring just now either. You might fare better than I however.” He winked at Meneris then turned to his raven once more. It had a small message tied to one leg; as they watched, he managed to coax the raven into allowing him to take the little scroll of paper. He turned away to read it thoughtfully.

“Come on love, let’s get some tea into you and let’s get dinner started while those two fight eh?” Vic steered the tall blond to the kitchen while he began cooking, the slight altercation out of his mind for the moment.

Fenris tossed a water skin to his fellow warrior on the way out, quiet as he pondered how to help the elf compensate his swing for the heavier false arm. “Let’s not waste what remains of the day, especially with you tied up for the next month.”

“Yes Hawke, as you say ser,” Meneris sassed him on the way out.

Anders winced. “Oh, Fenris is going to make him _pay_ for that,” he confided to Invictus once the two elves were gone. He moved around the table to take a seat and watch as Invictus made a start on preparations for dinner.

***

Fenris glared at the other elf for his cheek, before he tugged off his tunic and got into position. “Think you’re funny sassing me, Lavellan? Fine, we’ll see who laughs last. See if you can keep me from giving you more cuts before we’re done, you’re still favoring your right.”

“You don’t scare me, Fen,” Meneris grinned as he sprung at the other elf, only to be knocked flat on his back. 

“You’re telegraphing too much because you’re not used to the weight of that arm. Do better, or no supper.” Fenris grinned devilishly at the shorter elf, ready to keep knocking him down if he had to.

“You’re a demon, that wasn’t called for,” Meneris griped as he regained his feet. “Fine, you want a fight, you’re getting one.”

The two elves had attracted a small audience; Pin, Callus, Marian and Garrett had gathered by the railing that ran around the sparring ring. Garrett gave Callus a sideways glance and patted his coin pouch; Callus grinned back and nodded.

Fenris didn’t notice the others gathered to watch them, he was too focused on taking out Meneris for his sass, and for calling him Fen, which he still hated. He decided to play dirty and grab the other elf’s collar as he tried to feint away from the taller elf. “Gotcha!” 

Meneris made a rather undignified squawking noise as he felt himself dragged to the ground and the feel of the other warrior’s forearm resting against his throat. “You played dirty,” he gasped out. 

“No one is going to play nice with you in battle, you forget that?” Fenris replied. “Yield.”

From somewhere behind him, Fenris became aware of someone groaning and the titters of girlish laughter; distracted, he glanced over his shoulder in time to see Garrett passing a sovereign to a rather smug-looking Callus as Marian and Pin laughed.

Meneris took advantage of Fenris’ distraction to suddenly lift his legs and wrap them around Fenris’ neck; as he abruptly straightened his legs he twisted his hips. Fenris suddenly found himself sprawled in the dirt upon his stomach with Meneris atop him and the heavy weight of the silverite arm pressing down upon the back of his neck.

“Good job, but that arm isn’t enough to keep me down,” Fenris muttered as he pushed himself up to all fours. He reached back to scruff Meneris and get him off. “Again, and this time don’t count on me being distracted.” He rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy that his attention had been pulled away at all. 

“ _Amicus_ , I do hope you aren’t going to incapacitate my husband too badly?” called a familiar voice; a moment later, Dorian was leaning on the fence and eyeing the two combatants with a frown. From the red sand and dust on his elegant boots, Fenris could tell the magister must have teleported himself directly from Qarinus, where he’d been overseeing negotiations on a deal between a small faction of the Magisterium and the Lucerni the past few days. 

“That depends on him _amicus_. After all, he’s the one trying to hold me down like a cat.” Fenris said as he adjusted his hold, amused at the way the other elf kicked to be let down.

“Who is holding me by the scruff like a damned kitten! Let me go, and don’t drop me either.” Meneris tried his best to force Fenris to ease up but the taller elf didn’t budge.

“Get out of my grip then, consider it part of our training. If you can pull it off, you get loose or I can stand here for a while holding you like this.” Fenris grinned as he made sure he wasn’t choking his sparring partner.

Meneris glared at him as he reached up to grip Fenris’ wrist with his metallic arm, and then used that as leverage to swing himself up. His foot lashed out and caught Fenris just behind the ear, causing the taller elf to stagger and drop him; he tucked his head in and rolled as he hit the ground, coming to his feet with his sword once more in hand as Fenris lifted a hand to his head and managed to avoid sprawling in the dust.

“Like that?” replied Meneris with a grin as Dorian and Garrett applauded.

“Father!” protested Callus with a groan. “I’d bet Garrett five sovereigns that you’d end up carting Meneris inside like a kitten and he’d have to go without supper!”

Fenris shook his head to clear it and regretted it as he glanced to his son. “Serves you right, now let me concentrate.” He held his weapon at the ready before he charged the shorter elf, intent on knocking him flat.

“Hey!” Meneris yelped as he dodged the imposing elf that seemed to want him down for good rather than just a bit of sparring. Fenris staggered slightly as he missed Meneris; his momentum carried him on several paces forwards until he slammed into the fence - and Dorian. The fence gave way with a loud crack and the two men went down, with a startled yelp from Dorian as he was suddenly flattened by a large, powerful elf.

Fenris rolled off his friend and sat up, slightly dazed but more worried for Dorian. “ _Amicus_ , you alright?” 

Dorian sat up dazedly as Meneris hurried over; the magister was brushing dirt off his travel robes and blinking in mild confusion. “I think so,” he replied slowly.

“I”m sorry, I couldn’t stop once I’d missed. Come let me help you up,” Fenris said as he got to his feet and found that things were spinning. “Or maybe I’ll just sit back down.” 

“Love, what’s the matter, you look a little green,” Vic said as he took in how Fenris seemed too stunned for a short tumble. Anders had ventured out just behind him and was now surveying the group with his hands on his hips and a look of faintly amused exasperation. 

“Fenris, did you somehow manage to give both yourself and Dorian matching concussions, love?” he asked.

“Um, no, the first concussion was my fault,” ventured Meneris. 

Anders merely raised an eyebrow at him before turning to check both Fenris and Dorian over with an experienced eye before setting to work healing them both.

“Going to be sick, no magic…” Fenris mumbled as he tried to turn away from Anders’ touch. “Make it stop spinning.”

“I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?” Meneris asked as he helped Dorian to his feet. 

“Love, please let me heal you?” pleaded Anders. “It’ll stop spinning far quicker if you just let me....” He held his hand up, still glowing with blue healing energy but not trying to touch Fenris as he regarded him with worried amber eyes.

“Can I throw up first?” Fenris asked as he curled up in Vic’s embrace. 

“Oh Maker,” Anders sighed. “If you let me heal you, you won’t feel like throwing up any more.”

“ _Amicus_ , just let him get on and get it over with,” advised Dorian. “You’ll feel much better.”

“Fine, just hurry up.” Fenris mumbled.

Anders gently laid his hand upon Fenris’ head and let the healing magic flow into the elf, soothing away the ache in his skull and with it the nauseating feelings of dizziness and vertigo until finally it was done, and the mage sat back and regarded him carefully. “Better?” he asked.

The elf glanced up at his husband with a slight smile. “Much, sorry to be such a pain love. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank you.” Fenris got up and held on to Invictus. “Sorry for mowing you down _amicus_.”

“Think nothing of it,” replied Dorian as he brushed dust off his pants. “My own fault for not getting out of the way fast enough when I saw Meneris dodge.” He smiled. “No harm done - at least, not _permanently_ , thanks to Anders.” 

“I think we’re done for today, after that,” Fenris admitted as he let Vic lead him back to the house. 

“Good timing to stop, dinner is ready anyway. Come on love, you need something hearty after that. No wine though, not until you’ve had some sleep and you can wake up on your own,” Vic said after setting Fenris in his usual spot so he could serve up dinner.

Dorian helped Anders back to his feet and they turned to follow Fenris and Invictus back into the house, Meneris walking beside them as the teens followed behind.

The table in the dining room was large enough to accommodate many more than the inhabitants of the house; Zevran was already seated at the table awaiting them all with an eye on the food spread out. 

Pin took a seat next to Marian while Cal sat between his father and Zevran, eager for a meal with them rather than with Garret among the others at Skyhold. 

Fenris was quiet as they ate, grateful for friends and family with them. Despite his sour mood earlier, he felt at peace finally. 

“What was the message about, Zevran?” asked Anders as he took his place next to the Antivan; he was distracted as Ellowynne came running in to take her seat next to her father on the other side.

Invictus tapped Fenris’ leg, worried at the elf’s silence. “You alright love? You’ve been quiet since we sat to dinner.” 

“Fine, I’m fine really. Just got things on my mind and now that I’ve sat for a little while, I’m getting sore. I think I’ll take a bath and call it an early night soon.” He kissed Vic’s palm before digging back into his dinner, still quiet as the others made up for his lack.

“It was a greeting from a certain little white bird,” said Zevran quietly as he served himself, glancing over at Fenris. “But it can wait until later - how did the sparring match go? Who was the victor?”

“Not I,” chuckled Dorian. “Nor the fence I’m afraid.”

“I’d say Meneris bested me, especially since he got me angry and I lost my focus. Good match… _amicus_.” Fenris raised his glass in salute before going back to his food.

Zevran glanced sharply at Fenris at that, before his eyes met those of Dorian, who seemed as startled at the use of the term as the elf was. Dorian glanced to Meneris to see if he understood the import of Fenris using such a term to address him by.

The Dalish elf didn’t understand why they kept looking at him, nor at Fenris, and finally shrugged in confusion. “What?” 

“Do I detect a certain... hmm, change in your regard for our dear former Inquisitor, _carissimi_?” murmured Zevran quietly.

“He has earned it, nothing more,” Fenris whispered in reply. He glanced at Dorian then to the other elf before giving them a sly smile. 

“Fenris, it took nearly a divine act to get you to thaw towards Dorian, don’t give us that.” Vic said before he felt a sharp kick to his shin. “Who did that?”

Anders glanced up belatedly and looked around, bemused. “Hmm? What’s happening?” he asked, confused as to why they were staring at each other.

“Nothing is happening, enjoy dinner love I’m off to have a bath.” Fenris excused himself from the table, leaving them to wonder what had made him change his mind.

“Cal, your boot tips bloody hurt. What are they made of, star metal?” Vic asked as he rubbed his knee.

Pin elbowed her brother sharply as he sniggered.

“Peace; let us have no bloodshed at the table, hmm?” said Zevran, not looking up from his plate as he continued to eat.

“As you will, love; what was that message anyway? I think we all got distracted for a bit,” Vic asked.

Meneris glanced at Dorian, still unsure what the big deal was about being called _amicus_ ; after all, he’d heard the other elf call his husband that for a long time. 

“It is only a small matter,” shrugged Zevran. “The white crow believes he has encountered traces of a certain stray wolf and is investigating further.”

“Good, I look forward to further updates on that. I could use some new winter gloves from wolf pelt,” Vic said with a smile. “Speaking of correspondence, will you agree to Cullen’s request love?”

Anders blinked. “Of course I will,” he replied with a shrug. “Did you doubt I would?”

“Was just asking to make conversation; I know you wouldn’t turn him down, Anders. Maybe after a certain prickly elf has had a calming bath, I’ll try and talk to him,” Vic said.

“What’s wrong with Father? He’s never that quiet,” Cal asked. 

Zevran glanced up at that. “Your father has changed the balance of things by one word - a small word, that means much,” he shrugged. “The word _amicus_ has a much deeper meaning than merely _friend_ \- this you know, yes? After all, you are of Tevinter also.”

Cal nodded with a glance to the Inquisitor. “True enough, but he wasn’t quite right before that but I’ll leave him be. After growing up with Pin, I know his personality well.” He caught the roll tossed at him with a laugh. “Don’t waste food sister, even if life is going well.”

Pin stuck her tongue out at him then turned back to her food. “Maybe someone ought to let Meneris know just what exactly Father called him then,” she shrugged without looking at the elf in question.

Anders was now frowning slightly as he looked from Callus to Pin, then to Meneris. “Wait - Fenris called you _amicus_?” he said slowly, then he smiled. “Congratulations. I hadn’t realised you two were getting that close!”

There was a small muffled groan from Dorian as Meneris continued to look bewildered. The Tevinter magister reached for his wine as he shook his head.

“We’re not close like he is with Dorian, I mean we never...isn’t that why he started calling you that?” Meneris looked at his husband then to the others. “I swear, we never did.any---” his voice dropped off as everyone stared at him, including Fenris’ children who wore twin expressions of shock that slowly shifted to horror at the idea of their father and the former Inquisitor. They were all suddenly distracted as there was a sudden snort from Dorian and then a choking gasp as he accidentally inhaled wine. His eyes widened in alarm.

“Oh not you too!” Meneris said as he reached over to help his spouse.

“We didn’t think that, never saw you as his type Lavellan. You’re a wee thing, even if you can carry a two-hander like him.” Vic grinned as he watched Dorian turn rather red. The Tevinter magister had dropped his glass as he fought for breath.

Anders hastily rose and moved around the table to slap Dorian sharply between the shoulderblades; then he pressed his hand against Dorian’s back and sent a pulse of magic through him to force the wine out of his lungs. Dorian took in a great gasping breath then slumped against the table with a groan.

“Dorian?” said Anders after a moment.

“That... was impeccable timing, _amatus_ ,” Dorian managed after a moment.

“Apologies my heart, that wasn’t intentional.” Meneris said as he took his husband’s hand in his and kissed the palm. “Perhaps we should head home and let them get the rest of their night down, or should I speak with Fenris before we go?” 

“Perhaps you should both stay the night?” suggested Anders as Dorian straightened, still a little red in the face but breathing easily again. “We have spare rooms; we can put you up easily, and that way I can check on Dorian as needed after that concussion earlier?”

“Of course, thank you both. If you like, I’ll make some coffee and if there’s dessert I’ll set it out. Might as well be useful if you are going to have us over for the night,” Meneris offered as he rose to take his plate and Dorian’s away.

“Nonsense, you won’t serve anything while you’re here. Go on in the parlor and I’ll start some coffee. Who else wants some?” Vic started to clear the table, shooing away anyone who tried to help.

“I’ll pass on coffee,” replied Anders as he rubbed his chest absently. “But I wouldn’t say no to some tea, love.” He kissed Invictus on the cheek.

“There’s dessert - Marian made pie,” interjected Pin.

“Pin helped,” Marian replied.

“Well... I picked the apples,” shrugged Pin.

“Where did you find apples?” said Anders slowly. “The ones in our orchard aren’t ripe yet.”

“We’ll help you serve dessert, Uncle Vic!” exclaimed Marian hurriedly as she grabbed Pin’s arm and practically dragged her off into the kitchen.

“Kids...I swear,” Vic muttered as he measured out the grounds, then set a kettle going for Anders’ tea. “She’s been raiding the farm orchard down in the valley again.”

“I’m off to town for a bit, I promised to see someone tonight. I’ll be back later, maybe,” Cal said with a smirk. 

“If your father asks for you, shall I tell him that exactly young ser?” Vic asked with his own grin.

Zevran merely arched an eyebrow at Cal, giving him a thoughtful look as he leaned back in his seat and tapped a forefinger upon the wooden surface of the table.

“I will answer to him if he asks, thank you uncle Invictus. I will be careful, I promise.” Cal said with a glance, and a bow to his mentor. 

“If he has to come drag you out of someone’s bed because he’s worried, I don’t know what will be worse; your embarrassment or the anger from Zevran and your father. Go on, just be safe and don’t make him a grandfather yet.” Vic shooed the younger elf out the door with a sigh.

“Hard to get another boy with child, even if I was a mage. Good night!” Cal said before he dashed out of their reach.

Zevran’s eyes narrowed. He was still for a moment, then slowly shook his head before rising and heading into the parlour. He made straight for the brandy and busied himself pouring a large glass.

“Zev? Are you alright, it's not like you to have such a big pour before we’ve even sat to dessert?” Vic asked as he passed Marian plates and mugs.

Zevran shrugged. “A young man will sow his wild oats where he will, no?” he replied. “I do not like being reminded of my own youth sometimes. The reasons for Cal’s casual affairs are thankfully not mine, but....” He fell silent as he stared down into his brandy, then he gave a small, sad little smile. “Ah, well. Perhaps it is my own youth I am mourning. No-one likes to be reminded of their age, after all.”

Vic slipped an arm around the elf and kissed his cheek. “Be well love, he’s still enjoying freedom and the joys of youth. Don’t let that turn your night sour eh?” 

Zevran leaned into Invictus’ embrace with a warmer smile. “How can it be sour when I have my loves here, and all is well in our world? No dragons, no ancient Tevinter magisters, no Qunari assassins waiting to destroy the world - only good friends, good wine, excellent brandy and the men I love.”

“True, very true my heart. Speaking of dragons, I will brave the wrath of ours to get him out of the bath and back with us. I’ll appeal to his sweet tooth,” Vic snickered as he leaned in for another kiss. “If that doesn’t work, then I’ll tickle him and he’ll chase me.”

Zevran chuckled and kissed him back. “Go; we will save you both dessert. Unless he drowns you, in which case I think perhaps Pin will eat yours.” He winked.

“Wish me luck, he can be a handful even when in a good mood,” Vic said as he headed to the master bathroom. 

“Fenris, you still in here?” Vic asked. He waited a moment but heard only a soft splashing of water. He decided to take a chance and enter.

He opened the door gently and let himself in. “Fenris?”

The elf stared at the opening door and tried to sink down where he couldn’t be seen. He realized it wouldn’t work unless he ducked down and risked splashing anyway. He sat up and glared at Vic. “Can’t a man bathe in peace?”

Invictus let himself in and closed the door behind him before making his way over to the bathtub and sitting carefully on the edge. “Well, ordinarily I’d say yes, except you were very quiet over dinner - and you ducked out without dessert, and I’ve never known you to turn down apple pie.” He tried to grin but it slipped as Fenris continued to glare at him.

“I didn’t like everyone staring at me so I left. Didn’t know there was apple pie either, is that how you plan to get me back out there for scrutiny?” Fenris asked as he leaned back without realizing it. Invictus noticed the movement however, and glanced away, discomforted.

“No-one’s going to _scrutinize_ you, Fenris,” he said quietly. “We’re just... concerned, is all.” He glanced back again. “Is your head aching? Should I call Anders to come look? Pin told me you took quite a knock to the head even before you hit the fence and Dorian.”

“I’m fine, as much as I can be after losing out there. I got bested and my bell rung pretty hard. I just was quiet is all,” Fenris said before he gave up and made to get out of the tub. 

Invictus rose and reached for a towel to hand it to the tall elf. “Is this what it’s all about? Meneris beating you? I thought that was what the whole point was though - proving to Meneris that he’s back to full fighting strength, every bit as good as he was before that bastard Solas took his arm - isn’t this just what you and he were training him for?” he asked.

Fenris took the towel, grumbling his thanks as he dried off quickly and slung it around his neck. “It’s not just that...I’m, I’m getting soft and slow Vic. Normally I wouldn’t be distracted like that during a match. I guess I’m just feeling my age, seeing the kids growing up isn’t helping either.” 

Invictus turned to Fenris and rested his hands lightly on the elf’s forearms. “Fenris... kids grow up. It’s what happens. They change a lot at their age - a year is a long time for them. It’s not so long for us though. A year doesn’t make you soft, or slow, or mean you’re getting old, love - any more than it does me, or Zevran, or Anders. Maybe you had an off day, or maybe Meneris got in a lucky strike - it happens. It doesn’t mean we’re all ready to hang up our swords and staves and call it a day!” He smiled gently at Fenris. “You’re still the same prickly, bad-ass elf I fell for all those years ago, you know. You losing one sparring match isn’t going to change that.”

Fenris laughed at his husband before he stepped back to get dressed and slipped on the slick stones. 

“Woah!” yelled Invictus, leaping forward to grab Fenris before he could hit the floor and risk knocking himself silly for the second time that day. “Maker, there are simpler ways to say you fell for me too, love!” 

Fenris made a face at Invictus before he laughed, truly cracked up at his spouses terrible humor. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d have to pun-ish you for that terrible joke Vic.” 

Invictus grinned unapologetically at the elf as he dragged him down for a long, hard kiss. “Yeah. I _am_ lucky,” he breathed against Fenris’ lips. “Luckiest man in Thedas, that’s me.”

“I think I’ll fight you for that one, or give it to our love, after all he came back to us after dying. I love you Vicky, so much.” Fenris said before claiming his husband in a kiss. He could feel Invictus’ lips curving in a grin as they kissed; as they pulled apart for breath, Invictus arched an eyebrow. 

“‘Vicky’?” He grinned. “Good job I love you... Fen-fen.” His grin turned wicked.

“Mythal… must you? Fen is bad enough,” the elf groaned as he rested his head against Invictus’.

“So, if I’m Vicky, and you’re Fen-fen -” He broke off as Fenris lifted his head and glared at him. “Ah-ah-ah! You started this! So, I’m Vicky, you’re Fen-fen - what’s Anders’ nickname?”

Fenris grabbed hold of him and pulled him towards him sharply. “Shut. Up,” he growled before kissing him hard.

***

Anders glanced up as there was a loud cry from the bathroom. He and Zevran exchanged worried looks. “Maker, do you think -” began Anders but got no further as the cry was followed by a long, low drawn-out groan of “Ohhhhh....Maker.... Fenrissssss.....”

“I’m... going to go help Marian with the washing up,” announced Pin hastily and fled in the direction of the kitchen.

Meneris grinned unrepentantly at the low noises coming from the master bath before he rose and helped pick up after dessert. “Maybe you should go check on your husbands Anders, sounds like they could use some help,” he offered.

“Zevran, I’ll be... right back in a moment,” said Anders slowly as he stared in the direction of the master bathroom. “Ellowynne, love, I think you’d best use the other bathroom before bed, alright?”

“Alright, Daddy,” agreed Ellowynne. She flung her arms around him and kissed him goodnight with a cheerful grin, then kissed Zevran goodnight before skipping off. She paused by the door of the bathroom to shout “G’night, Uncle Fenris and Uncle Vic!” Then she ran off to change for bed.

Meneris giggled as he picked up saucers and mugs to take in for washing, stopping to give Dorian a kiss on the lips as he passed by. “They have no shame, at all.” 

Dorian smiled sleepily at him as he surrendered his empty brandy glass. “Ah, such passion,” he murmured. Meneris realised that his husband was more than halfway asleep after a very long day and a large meal.

“I’ll... um... go check on them,” said Anders hastily as he headed towards the bathroom.

He knocked, but there was no answer; all he could hear was harsh panting and what sounded like Invictus moaning Fenris’ name. He let himself into the bathroom and was temporarily blinded by the clouds of steam. He closed the door behind himself, then turned to find himself staring at Fenris’ arse as the elf pounded away at Invictus, the mage groaning as he leaned over the edge of the bath and panting Fenris’ name.

Fenris turned at the feel of air on his skin but didn’t stop moving. “Came to join us love?” he panted before tugging Vic’s hair hard and biting at his shoulder.

“Ah - _ah!_ Fen, too hard, too -” Invictus broke off his panting protestations as he turned his head and spotted Anders; his eyes widened for a moment, and then he grinned.

Anders swallowed hard as he felt a stirring in his pants. “Am I... interrupting?” he asked, taking a step towards them. 

“Not..at...all. We can move to our room..” Fenris moaned as Vic pushed back against him. “If this one doesn’t make me come by doing that again.” 

“Room… our ...bed, right now,” Vic huffed.

Anders nodded wordlessly and backed out of the room.

“Maker... the way he just _obeys_ like that,” moaned Invictus. “And you just know we’ll find him naked and ready for us....”

“For me you mean, you’re still mine even when we get to our room. Now throw on a robe and move your ass.” Fenris snarled as he pulled back and wrapped a towel around his waist and glanced at the door.

Invictus whined as Fenris pulled out but straightened and reached for a robe.

They emerged from the bathroom to find there was no sign of Meneris, Dorian or Zevran; however when they reached their room, they found Anders already disrobed and lying on the bed, waiting for them.

“Good boy, always so compliant for me,” Fenris purred as he kicked the door shut. “Vic, why don’t you take care of him while I get back to what I was doing?” 

Anders rolled over onto his stomach then pushed himself up onto hands and knees. He spread his legs then lowered his head to his forearms and waited.

“Ah I meant more with his mouth love but I think Vic can figure something out.” Fenris gently nudged Anders until he was facing the other way so Vic could suck him while he resumed nailing the other mage.

Anders whimpered slightly in protest but obediently turned and lay back against the pillows, gasping softly as Invictus swallowed him down. His spread his legs a little wider as he grabbed fistfuls of the blankets. “Vic....” he groaned.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn in a bit,” Fenris assured him as he got more oil before sliding back into Invictus. “He’ll take you in a bit, I’m… close.”

Anders stared down at Invictus as the other mage swallowed him down again and he moaned before lifting his gaze to Fenris who was pounding into Invictus faster. The former Champion was forced to brace himself and pause for fear of accidentally hurting Anders. The blond mage shivered beneath Invictus and fought against the urge to grind his groin up to Invictus’ waiting mouth.

Fenris tried to be careful as he took Invictus harder, his own moans coming quicker as he drew close to coming. “Pull...off so ...oh fuck,” he gasped, unable to warn his husband of how close he was. 

“He’s coming,” Anders gasped as he braced a hand against Invictus’ shoulder; he was reaching behind himself with the other hand, and as his breath hitched Invictus realised Anders was opening himself for him.

Fenris stopped his thrusts slowly and pulled back to catch his breath. “He’s all yours love, be gentle ok?” He slid to the floor and took Anders’ hand in his as he watched two of the men he loved come together.. 

Anders lifted his legs to wrap them around Invictus as the other mage sank into him; his fingers tightened in Fenris’ grasp for a moment. “I’m ready,” he murmured, then groaned softly as Invictus began to move.

“Love you both so much,” Fenris said as he held on to Anders while he was taken gently, slow and easy by Vic. His attention was drawn by the door opening, and Zevran slipping into the room. 

“ _Carissimi_ , come to us,” called the taller elf.

Zevran closed the door quietly behind himself and began to strip his shirt off as he approached the bed. Anders was breathlessly begging Invictus to fuck him harder; Zevran glanced to Fenris, his lips curving in a smile.

“Vic... please... I won’t break, love!” pleaded Anders. “Just... just please, I... I want you to handle me a little rougher!”

“Easy love, easy. I don’t want you to overdo it,” Fenris whispered to their love. He watched for any hint of distress from the blond.

Anders made a faint sound of frustration as he turned his head to stare at Fenris. His fingers tightened upon Fenris’ fingers, and then he pulled upon the elf’s hand, guiding it until Fenris’ palm was pressed against his throat as he gave the warrior a hopeful look.

The elf whipped his hand back and stared at his husband with worry. “No...I can’t, I don’t want to hurt you. Please don’t ask that of me!” 

Any further argument from the warrior was cut off as Zevran nudged him aside and joined them on the bed, willing to do what the Tevinter elf was afraid of. The blond Antivan snaked a hand into Anders’ hair then yanked it hard; Anders’ neck arched backwards as he hissed in surprise and then groaned, the hedonistic sound going straight to Fenris’ groin in spite of his worry.

“If our love wishes a little rough handling then we should indulge him, no?” murmured Zevran as he leaned over Anders. He kissed Anders gently, then bit the mage’s lip hard enough to make it bleed; as Zevran pulled back, Fenris could see Anders’ eyes darkening as his breath quickened. 

Invictus bit at Anders’ neck when he could, pleased to see the mage so into their play. “Love you Anders...want more?” he asked between strokes, happy at his eagerness.

Fenris continued to watch, still wary but easing up as he saw how Anders responded to their touch. 

“Maker, yes,” Anders panted. “Zev... your cock... want to taste it....”

“Oh? Well, far be it for me to deny you, my heart,” chuckled Zevran. He shimmied swiftly out of his pants then moved to crouch above Anders, bringing himself swiftly to full erection with a few swift pumps of his fist before pressing the tip of his cock to Anders’ willing lips. As Anders swallowed him down, Zevran leaned forward to claim Invictus’ lips in a kiss.

Fenris moved back, content to watch and let them enjoy themselves for the moment, though he was still anxious as he watched Invictus speed up, how Anders pulled Zevran’s hand back towards his throat. Zevran smiled as he thrust down into Anders’ mouth, wrapping his hands almost gently around Anders’ pale throat before he began to tighten his grip slightly. Anders moaned enthusiastically around Zevran’s cock.

The blond elf glanced at Fenris, his own breath coming a little faster now. “See, _carissimi_ , how beautifully he takes our cocks?”

“Yeah...breathtaking.” Fenris said as he watched how content Anders looked while getting his mouth fucked even as Invictus’ rhythm began to falter. “Vic is close...never noticed the way he bites his lip before,” he moaned.

Zevran smiled, then shifted one hand to pinch closed Anders’ nostrils before thrusting deep into Anders’ throat; he held himself there, choking Anders for a few heartbeats before pulling back and freeing his breathing once more. Anders’ breath was a loud inhale followed by a long, low moan. Zevran bit his lip.

“Ah, my love, you take that so well,” he groaned before sliding his cock back into Anders’ throat again, his thrusts a little harder now.

“Fuck...I want to play again too.” Fenris gasped as he watched the way Anders took them both so well, so easily. “Maker, I want to be in his place,” he admitted.

“Maybe...once...I’ve come,” Vic panted. 

Zevran paused and slid his cock free of Anders’ lips. “My heart, do you think you could take a second cock beside Invictus?” he asked Anders.

Anders gasped for breath for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Fuck, _yes_ , please!”

That made Fenris whimper and Invictus pause for a moment. “Are you sure about that? Fun is fun, but that made you pass out even when mostly healthy the last time we had that kind of night.” Vic tipped his husband’s face towards him, hoping he wasn’t too far gone to give an honest answer.

“I want all of you,” Anders replied. “Please, I - I can take it - you, all of you!”

“Easy love, let’s just get two of us in you for now, I want to see you take that like a good boy for us,” Vic whispered in his ear before kissing him and waiting to see how Zevran wanted to play things out.

Fenris was on the edge of his seat, waiting for someone to direct things, for once not taking the lead. 

Zevran shifted back a little and glanced to Fenris. “ _Carissimi_?” he asked softly. “If you wish to try, I will watch and warn if we need to stop?”

Anders bit his lip. “Someone do _something_ ,” he begged in frustration.

Fenris shook his head and motioned for Zevran to be the second. “I will watch for now, I ...trust him to tell us to stop if need be. Where do you wish me?” he asked.

“You sure love?” Vic was cut off by a very demanding pull from Anders. “Give us a moment, want to be sure we don’t hurt you beyond what you ask for- patience, love.” 

As Zevran rose from the bed to move around behind Invictus, where Anders could no longer see him, he let his head drop back onto the bed with a small moan. “I _want_ you to stop treating me like I’ll break if you look at me too hard,” he said plaintively. “I want you all to fuck me the way you used to. I want to be able to ask you to spank me, or choke me, or tie me up without dreading the way you get this worried look in your eyes.”

As he was complaining, Zevran pressed himself against Invictus’ back. “Hmm, perhaps we should do something about that, yes?” he chuckled to Invictus quietly. “Lean forward so that I may slide in too, my love.” Invictus could feel an oil-slicked hand touch his balls and gasped, then groaned.

Fenris forced himself not to react to Anders’ words, instead he sat back to observe, and try not to ruin their night with the wrong things to say. He curled up with a half-glass of wine as they figured out how to please their not fragile husband.

Invictus apologized even as he maneuvered forward, leaning over Anders with the slender mage bent almost double to let Zevran slide in next to him, a whimper escaping at the feel of the other man’s cock against his. “Fuck...so hard not to come right now.”

Anders’ complaints were suddenly silenced as he felt first Zevran’s fingers and then his slicked cock pressing steadily into him alongside that of Invictus. His eyes widened as his mouth formed an O of surprise; he breathed hard as Zevran slid slowly into him, stretching him almost painfully. A strangled gasp escaped his throat as he stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

“...Maker,” he finally whispered.

“Just Vic will do,” Invictus huffed as he waited for Zevran to move and set the pace, remembering how he and Fenris were a bit too rough with him that first time they’d both shagged him.

Zevran slid out a little before sliding back in, tapping Invictus to let him know he should do likewise. As Anders felt them both moving inside him, he shuddered then moaned faintly.

“Oh....oh fuck... oh fuck,” he breathed, curling his fingers into the bedspread as his toes curled.

“Should I move in counter to your strokes Zev? Or is this good for you Anders?” Vic moaned in the blond’s ear.

Fenris had moved to wash up and resume his spot, this time stroking himself slowly to what he was watching.

“In counter,” breathed Zevran, panting slightly.

“Oh fuck, I love you Vic,” Anders gasped. “Zev. Fen... Fenris?” He turned his head to look for Fenris, and the elf could see the mage’s eyes were slightly glazed, his forehead beaded with sweat. As Anders’ gaze fell upon Fenris, he loosened one hand from the bedspread and reached it a little towards Fenris.

The warrior approached, kneeling so Anders could touch him if he wanted. “You look so happy, beautiful,” Fenris said reverently.

“Feels so full... stretched... so good,” Anders panted. “F-faster... n-need more....” He reached out and took Fenris’ cock in his hand and began to pump it steadily.

Invictus felt Zevran’s hands come to rest on his hips before the slender elf began to thrust a little faster.

“Fuck...Anders…” Fenris moaned as he tried and failed to keep from bucking into the mage’s touch. “Gonna ...please.” 

“None of us...can last ...for much longer,” Vic gasped as he felt the way Anders writhed against them.

“Fen... let me taste...” whimpered Anders. “I’m so close....”

Invictus could feel he wouldn’t last much longer; the steady rhythmic thrusting of Zevran’s cock as it slid beside his was just too much, and the little shivers Anders was giving were pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Invictus curled his hand around Zevran’s arm, or was it Fenris’ as he felt his climax take him over, his moans loud to him as he slowed his pace. Anders moaned as he felt Invictus’ cock pulse deep inside him, the feel of his spend slicking inside as Zevran continued to thrust into his willing body.

Fenris moved so Anders could do as he pleased but he yelped at the way the mage clamped down on him and sucked hard. Anders drew Fenris’ cock down into his mouth and swallowed as he felt the elf’s thick cock brush the back of his throat; his moan was strangled against Fenris’ flesh.

Zevran’s thrusts sped up as Invictus came, and Anders shuddered, closing his eyes as he felt the faster movement, almost painfully hard thrusts reaching deep into his stretched tissues. He tried to reach his own cock but it was trapped between his body and that of Invictus.

Fenris whimpered at how Anders was sucking him, holding him in place until the mage finally let go of him with a lewd noise. He tried to reach for Anders’ cock but found no space. “Easy love, easy, once they move I’ll take care of you.”

“Vic,” Zevran grunted. “His... his throat... a little squeeze... he will come all the sooner,” he managed to gasp as he sped his thrusts even further.

Anders made an enthusiastic noise of encouragement as he swallowed Fenris’ cock again.

“Mak---Mythal dammit, Anders!” Fenris shouted more because he was getting overstimulated than actual surprise.

“Don’t blaspheme love…” Vic mumbled as he reached for Anders’ throat as he was told. He gave a gentle squeeze with each thrust Zevran made. 

Anders choked, and then his body convulsed beneath Invictus as he came hard, unable to breathe between Invictus’ hand around his throat and Fenris’ cock down it. As his body clenched around the two cocks buried inside him, Zevran made a quiet gasping cry and then came, his body trembling against Invictus. He stilled, then after a moment he withdrew.

Fenris panted as he felt his own climax take him, holding still until Anders let him slip free, with a few strands of his come on the blond’s lips as he pulled away. Vic pulled away slowly, and stumbled off the bed so he could stretch out the cramp in his back that had tried to start up.

Anders coughed, gagging a little before he managed to swallow most of Fenris’ spend. His eyes fluttered open dazedly as he turned his head a little towards the elf. He was panting hard, body trembling a little in the aftermath of his own climax. Fenris leaned in to kiss his husband, wanting to taste himself before he laid next to Anders. “Sleep now.” 

“Not yet, we need to at least wash up,” Vic panted from somewhere by the bed.

“Indeed we must,” agreed Zevran from across the room; he still sounded out of breath. He padded back towards them with a bowl of water. “Invictus, if you would warm the water please?”

Vic reached up for the bowl and warmed it with too much effort for his liking. He laid there, catching his breath and thinking how lucky he was. He sat up at the soft giggle he heard from Anders, and saw Fenris had rolled over to clean their husband off with his tongue, setting off his laughter.

“He’s ticklish there, of all places, hmm,” Vic said before flopping back to the floor.

“Tick-ticklish everywhere,” Anders gasped with laughter. “You - you already knew that!” He squirmed beneath Fenris. “Oh Maker, please, I can’t breathe!” He giggled helplessly, still out of breath from their exertions. As Fenris relented, Anders lay back with a low groan. He could feel Zevran and Invictus’ spend dripping from his stretched hole, warm and sticky between his thighs and pooling beneath him upon the bed; and his heart was racing still, stuttering and unsteady. He trailed a hand slowly up his body, across his ribs, to rest over his heart as he willed it to calm once more.

Fenris pulled away with a little smirk before taking a warmed cloth from Zevran. “Is that better?” he asked as he gently finished cleaning up his husband. “I like doing that now; remember when I hated it?” he asked quietly. He curled up and let his head rest on Anders’ stomach, pleased when he felt the other man's hand in his hair. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” murmured Anders.

Fenris had to move slightly when Zevran insisted on Anders rolling over slightly to lie on his side so the Antivan could clean him up; Anders hissed quietly as Zevran started to gently wipe away the traces of his and Invictus’ spend. He felt almost achingly empty now after being stretched and filled so tight before, and sore.

“No, want him to keep petting me,” Fenris protested as he was nudged aside. 

“Love, he can cuddle you once we’re all cleaned up and piled in bed. You’re not actually a cat remember?” Vic teased as he forced himself up and to the basin.

“’M a dragon...rawr,” Fenris mumbled as he tried to get comfortable until he felt Zevran trying to clean him off as well. “Stop, it’s cold.” 

Zevran snorted. “Very well; perhaps you prefer to do it yourself?” He wet the flannel then dropped it onto Fenris’ groin and ignored the yell as he turned to pick up a small jar of salve. He ignored Fenris’ grumbles, instead turning his attention to applying the salve gently inside Anders with a finger.

Anders shivered slightly and let out a small, breathy moan as he felt Zevran touching him inside; the salve was cool and soothing, but he felt acutely sensitive so soon after having come. As he lay there and let Zevran minister to him, he felt a stirring in his groin once more; as Zevran’s fingers brushed his sensitive spot inside, he shuddered. He could feel his heart begin to race once more as his breath came a little faster.

Fenris got up reluctantly to get cleaned off before rummaging for clean sheets. “Off the bed, so we can at least sleep on a dry, clean sheet.” He made the bed quickly and claimed his usual spot, with a dirty look for his elven spouse. 

Zevran was ignoring him; he had made Anders lean over the dressing table to finish applying the salve as Fenris made the bed, and he was gently murmuring in Anders’ ear as his finger still twisted and pushed inside the blond mage. The shiver that ran through Anders had nothing to do with the temperature of the air, if the flushed look on his face were anything to go by.

Fenris continued to glare at Zevran until he felt a slap to his backside. “I’m not in the mood for that now Vic.” 

“Well you’re being a brat, why are you giving him such a look after our nice time tonight?” Vic asked as he curled around his husband. 

“Not being a brat, he dropped a cold wet flannel on me!” Fenris huffed before cuddling the pillow.

“You are not jealous, come on Fen.” Vic stared at the way the elf’s ears flushed and how he refused to turn around. “Oh, you _are_ , aren’t you?”

“Stop it, and go to sleep,” the elf replied before hugging the pillow and ignoring the brunet at his back. It didn’t help his mood any that by turning away from Invictus he now had a clear view of what Zevran was doing to Anders - or that at that moment Anders gave a low, choking moan.

Invictus frowned and tried to get Fenris to turn over and face him. “Love, what’s wrong - this isn’t like you at all. You’ve been in a mood, and I would have thought fucking me senseless and getting sucked off would fix that. What’s wrong with you?”

The elf rolled over, only because it meant he didn’t have to see them together. “Nothing I want to talk about and ruin tonight. I’m going to sleep Vic.” 

The former First Enchanter sighed and stared at the elf next to him. “I’m not letting this go Fen, it's not like you to be jealous, especially after all this time.” He was able to see that Zevran had a hand over Anders’ mouth now, muffling the small sounds the blond was making. The Antivan was pressed against Anders’ back as his other hand continued to work inside Anders. The blond mage abruptly shuddered and clutched at the dressing table, and Zevran pulled his hand free before hugging the other man. He murmured something in Anders’ ear, and the mage nodded.

Invictus sighed and put his arms around Fenris, holding the elf close, but not before he noticed how he’d pulled a pillow over his head to block out the soft moans from across the room. “ _Malum,_ ” he muttered before pulling the pillow away and letting the elf use him to cuddle up to.

Zevran was washing his hand; Anders had straightened and now made his way a little unsteadily towards the door that led into the bathroom. Zevran leaned against the dressing table as he dried his hand, saying nothing as he regarded them both with an inscrutable expression.

Invictus frowned at him, not pleased with the extra exertion after they’d all worn Anders out rather thoroughly that evening. Fenris remained turned away, unwilling to look at the other elf or the mage if he was still in the room.

“Would you rather I leave the room and sleep elsewhere tonight?” asked Zevran in a low voice.

“No, that’s a stupid question, Zev. Also, it would upset Anders,” Invictus replied while Fenris kept silent.

“Then will you both hear me out whilst I explain what it was you may think you saw?” continued Zevran as he glanced towards the bathroom door.

“Go on, I’m listening.” Vic said as he felt Fenris tighten his grip slightly but otherwise remained quiet.

“It can be hard to feel so very empty so soon after being so very full,” said Zevran quietly. “Sometimes it can help to be... touched there. Gently, you understand?” He shrugged and glanced away. “I have experienced this myself. I thought, easy enough for me to help him a little as he adjusts, as I applied the salve. He did not expect to be ready to go again so soon however. He did not wish you to worry. He asked me to take care of it quickly.” His eyes glittered slightly as he dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“We did not do it to upset you, Fenris,” he said softly. 

Vic looked down when he felt the elf shake his head and curl closer to to him. “I don’t think he’s in a place to talk about it,” he said.

Fenris hated that the tiny spark of jealousy had turned to such a thing when they should be happy that Anders was more himself than he’d been in months. Rather than let that be what guided him, he opted to get up and look for his clothes.

Zevran remained staring at the floor; he might have been a statue, for all that he moved as Fenris hunted for his clothes.

Anders stumbled back in from the bathroom, yawning as he made his way towards the bed; he halted as he took in what Fenris was doing. “Fenris?”

The elf tried to give him a smile as he found his pants and slipped them on. “Get some rest, I’m antsy and want something to drink, I’ll be back in a bit love.” 

Vic had sat up to watch, hoping that Anders would believe him. 

Anders shrugged sleepily, then moved to stand before Fenris and wrapped his arms around the elf, hugging him. He kissed him gently. “Don’t be too long,” he smiled. “I love you.”

“Love you too; sleep well,” Fenris said before he left, glad that his escape didn’t cause a fuss. He knew he couldn’t stay gone long but he just needed a few minutes to get himself together, and figure out why it had bothered him so much.

Invictus said nothing as he let Anders cuddle up with him and watched Zevran slide in behind the blond. “Sleep well, loves.” 

It wasn’t long before Anders was fast asleep, his breathing slow and deep. Invictus became aware that Zevran was still very much awake however; and after a while, the blond elf silently slipped out of bed and returned to lean against the dressing table, his arms wrapped around his torso as he stared at the floor. In the thin beams of moonlight that faintly illuminated the bedroom, Invictus could see his face seemed pensive, his ears drooping almost.

“Go to him, stop moping. Both of you be back in this bed before daybreak or I will be cross with you and him,” Vic said quietly before settling down again.

Zevran glanced up at him, then turned and padded silently from the room.

Fenris had settled into his usual chair in front of the fireplace, glass of wine in hand as he pondered the fire and his own thoughts. He turned at the soft footfalls he’d know anywhere. “Thought you were all asleep.”

Zevran stepped out of the shadows and came to sit upon the floor by Fenris’ feet, his back resting against the side of the chair. “I could not sleep,” he said quietly.

“Nor can I.” said the elf, hoping he’d be left to his thoughts and his wine.

Zevran let his head drop back to rest against the chair and sighed softly. “I am sorry, _carissimi_ ,” he said after a moment.

“It’s not your fault I have not mastered myself after all this time. I left so I could avoid talking, and putting my foot in my mouth as I often do.” Fenris admitted. 

“Say what you will,” shrugged Zevran. “Perhaps I should be the one to remain silent for once.”

“I’ve nothing to say Zevran, I could not control my feelings of jealousy so I decided to go rather than hurt anyone.” Fenris finished his wine and rose. “I’m going to bed, I don’t have it in me to explain why I slept in the parlour when Anders wakes tomorrow. Are you coming?” 

Zevran stared at the remains of the fire and shrugged. “In a while,” he said softly.

“Come with me, it is cold out here and you will catch a chill.” When the other elf didn’t move, he took Zevran’s hand in his and pulled gently. “Please?”

Zevran finally looked up at him. “I cannot sleep,” he replied. “Why do you think I came out here? I could not lie there waiting sleeplessly for you to decide whether you would sleep in here or in there. And now, you would have me follow you and lie sleepless there?” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “You will not talk to me here, and we cannot talk in there for fear of waking Anders. So. Here I sit.”

Fenris scowled at the elf and crossed his arms. “Fine, I was bloody jealous Zevran, are you happy? I was jealous that you threw a damned cold flannel on me and turned away to Anders. You’ve done this before and I barely kept it under wraps. I tried to just keep quiet until I could let it go but you wanted to know, and you’re going to be an ass and sit here until I talk - well, there you go. I had a fit of jealousy and I was trying so hard to just keep quiet and let it pass because I didn’t want to ruin tonight. Now that you know, can we go to sleep?” The elf’s voice hadn’t raised beyond a whisper as he let his husband know exactly what was on his mind.

“Jealous?” Zevran blinked up at him, confused. “You mean....” He broke off with a groan. “Ah, I am a fool - of course, you were concerned and wished to care for Anders yourself! Forgive me!”

“Not... exactly... what I meant but I want to stop arguing and go to bed. Now are you satisfied Zevran? Can we just go to sleep now?” Fenris asked as he tried to keep from snapping. 

Zevran nodded, chastened; he slowly began to get to his feet, bracing himself against the chair as he rose with a stifled grunt.

Fenris helped him up and steered him towards the bedroom, glad to have avoided a fight. He still wasn’t happy but he didn’t want to argue. Zevran was limping slightly, no doubt thanks to sitting on the cold floor even for that short time; Fenris couldn’t help but notice he was favouring the leg he’d shattered nearly two years ago that had caused him so much trouble.

The taller elf put an arm around his husband and helped him the rest of the way without comment. He simply put the other elf to bed and climbed in behind Invictus to finally settle for the night. The warrior slept until he heard the scrape of the front door in the wee hours and the sound of boots.

A brief glance told him that the others hadn’t been awakened by the sound; even Zevran seemed still out for the count, curled up behind Anders, his face hidden by dishevelled hair and one arm dangling over the side of the bed. 

Fenris crept out of bed to see who could have been foolish enough to break in, just to find his son trying to make it through the parlour to the stairs. “Callus Leto Hawke, where in the Void have you been?” At the same moment, a higher pitched voice rang out.

“Callus, you’re in _so much trouble!!_ ”

Fenris turned, startled, to find Ellowynne regarding him with wide, startled eyes.

“Ellowynne, go back to your room please or go to your papa. I am going to have a word with my child.” Fenris asked gently before he turned to see Callus attempting to run for it. “Don’t you dare.”

He needn’t have spoken; Callus managed perhaps three strides before his feet seemed to freeze to the ground and he nearly overbalanced. He glared back at Ellowynne, who had folded her arms and was glaring back at him.

“Wynne, a _glyph of holding??_ Seriously?” he said in disgust.

“You are in big trouble,” she told him grimly. “Running away will only make it worse.” She glanced at Fenris. “Want me to paralyse him, Uncle Fenris?”

“No sweetheart, I can handle this, please dispel your glyph and go back to bed or go to your papa. Thank you.” Fenris gave her a charming smile before he turned to his son. “Promise her you won’t move and she’ll dispel it.”

Callus sighed and nodded. “I’ll stay put,” he conceded glumly. He gave Ellowynne a wounded look. “You were supposed to keep watch out, not gang up with him against me!”

She stuck her tongue out at him as she dispelled the glyph; she contrived to send a little spark of electricity through the glyph a split second before it dissipated, then turned and marched off towards the kitchen, followed by his yell of surprise.

“If you wake everyone else up I will fly over the foothills and drop you in the lake. Now follow me.” Fenris pointed to the parlour and let Cal sit before he started to pace. “So where were you? Do you have any idea what time of day it is? Is someone going to come looking for you after you ran out of their bedroom in the dead of night? Why didn’t you just ...Cal, why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Impressive breath control,” remarked Callus as he arched an eyebrow. “You said that all in one breath. You finished yet?”

Fenris scowled at the younger elf, the urge to smack him for his sass warring with the promise he’d made never to hit them. “Watch it, Callus, or you will be confined to this house for the rest of the summer. Or I’ll make you drill with me and Zevran every single day until you are too tired to do anything but fall into bed after dinner, if then. Do not sass me.” 

Callus folded his arms and returned his father’s stare coolly. “Ground me? Try it and I’ll move down to the village,” he replied. “I’ll train with you if you like, but drill me? Only if I agree to it.” He tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I get it. You think this is how a father is supposed to treat his son? Sorry, I don’t think you quite understand what’s going on here, Father. I’m not some kid. Not any more than you were at my age. You think I only worked out what my cock was for after I arrived in Skyhold?” He shook his head. “Father, I was fucking the maids and soldiers in Skyhold from two days after I’d arrived there. And before you ask, no, you don’t have a score of illegitimate grandkids back at Skyhold.”

Fenris’ expression had closed off as Cal spoke until finally he had dropped his gaze to the floor; when his son finished he simply looked at him for a moment before turning and leaving the parlour. He had nothing he could say, not when the fear at realizing he hadn’t known where his son had been abated; that wasn’t what he’d expected. He walked out to the garden and sat in his usual spot, and stared at the dirt while considering Cal’s words.

He had no idea how long he’d been sat there before Pin sat next to him and handed him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.” Fenris drank it in silence, sure his daughter was going to give him an earful too, since she’d never been shy about how she felt. “Come to tell me I’m not going to run your life too?”

She turned and gave him a sharp look. “No, I came to bring you a cup of coffee,” she replied, then arched an eyebrow. “I mean, if you _want_ me to make you feel like shit then I guess I can do that too, but you look like you’re already doing that fine by yourself, Father.” She shrugged.

“Sorry, guess I’m not good company. Thanks for the coffee Pin.” Fenris handed her the cup with a pitiful attempt at a smile. 

She gave him a small smile in return before turning to look out across the valley.

“I don’t think Cal really understands,” she said after a while. “Back in Tevinter, he and I had stopped being kids years ago, after all. I guess I wouldn’t have understood it either if I didn’t have Marian.” She shrugged. “People who don’t grow up slaves... they stay kids longer. Southerners even more so than up in Tevinter. Marian is so much younger than me in so many ways, though she grew up in the Circle until she was 13 - she was in the Gallows in Kirkwall; she ever tell you that?” She glanced at her father; when Fenris shook his head, wordless, she shrugged.

“Yeah. When Anders took out the Chantry and you all rescued the mages, she was one of the apprentices - her and Garrett.” She glanced out across the hills. “I’m sure you’ve seen it with Wynne - she’s much older-seeming than the kids her age in the village. It’s something the Circle does - makes kids grow up too fast. Like being a slave.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just worried Pin, that’s all.” Fenris worried at one of his nails as he considered her words. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not going to try and do that again. Go on inside, I’m going to get a bath and breakfast, or lunch; I don’t know the time.” She turned and laid a hand on his wrist and he stilled.

“Just hear me out, Father,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. “Callus doesn’t understand. He’s not like the boys his age in the village; he’s never been a child like them. He sneaks out because that’s what slaves do. He sleeps with tavern wenches and soldiers because he can’t understand the boys and girls his own age. He’s safe from those soldiers because the only man who could likely best him by now is either you or Zevran. He’s better trained than any Crow.” She blinked at Fenris and smiled gently. “But I understand, because I have Marian, and I look at her and I think, _that’s what a teen is here in the south_. And all the teens you’ve ever been around have been Southerners. You’ve forgotten how to think like a slave child. And that’s beautiful, Father. But you have to let Cal forget in his own way, and he’s closer to it than you are. He’s got to find his Invictus, his Anders, his whoever it takes. But he’ll find them.”

Fenris nodded and hugged her for a moment. “I’m lucky my girl is so smart, where I’m not. Thanks Pin. I’ll try and remember this, even when it hurts to do so.” He kissed her on the top of her head and rose to go in. “Be good to Marian, and to yourself ok?” 

She grinned. “You be good to you too, Father - and Zevran, hmm?” She winked before she picked up her cup and his then disappeared back inside, leaving him to wonder how much of what had happened last night might have been somehow overheard.

The elven warrior passed through the kitchen to drop off his cup and had the damned bad luck to find Zevran, Callus and Dorian all sat there lingering over breakfast. “Morning all,” he said as he tried to escape.

“Funny thing,” drawled Callus, a little too loud. “Someone tried to lecture me about bed partners today. He never mentioned he’d shagged you before he called you ‘ _amicus_ ’, Dorian. So, should I expect to see Meneris walking out of Father’s bedroom next?”

Dorian gaped at him, thunderstruck. Fenris felt his own face grow pale then hot with anger, but before he could even draw a breath Zevran’s hand lashed out and there was a sharp crack as it slapped Callus’ ear. The youth staggered, lifting one hand to his ear as it reddened, and he stared at the Antivan in shock as Zevran continued to sip coffee as if nothing had happened for a minute.

Slowly Zevran lowered his cup. “When you can best me in combat, one on one, then you may offer such insults to your betters,” he said quietly without looking at Callus. “But you had best kill me on that day, for if you insult either Dorian or your father before me like that ever again I _will_ kill you. Understood?”

Callus’ mouth opened and closed several times before he slowly nodded. “Yes... Domne,” he whispered, before turning and fleeing.

Fenris looked to his husband, then his friends before he too left the room. He had nothing to say that wasn’t going to turn into a screaming match with his son. Sassing him was one thing when he’d tried too hard, but that was beyond what he could take from him all in one day. He ran a bath and sank in, hoping he could calm himself. 

Meneris entered the kitchen to find a rather tense group at the table after having slept in. “I have a feeling I shouldn’t ask what happened.”

Dorian glanced up at him and immediately went bright red. Zevran merely set down his cup and rose to his feet.

“Meneris, my apprentice offered insult to you and your husband in your absence. As his Master, it is my failing in have not taught him better. What recompense will you require? My body is at your disposal.”

“Zevran, no, I _told_ you!” protested Dorian.

“That’s alright Zevran, we don’t need any such compensation, in fact I think we should go home since we are supposed to entertain some guests tonight. I slept far too long as it is. Maybe talk with Cal once he’s realized the error of his ways? I have a feeling Fenris was just too stunned to say anything and is hiding. We’ll be back to visit soon, alright?” Meneris tugged at his husband, eager to go all of a sudden.

Invictus wandered in to see Dorian winding up for a portal. 

“Leaving already? It's not even that late in the day,” Vic said sadly. 

Anders glanced over at Dorian. “Dorian, would you do me a favour?” he asked.

“But of course,” said Dorian.

“Knock Zevran out with a Spirit Bolt, would you?”

Zevran glanced at Anders, startled, even as Dorian’s eyes widened and then he smiled.

“Of course,” he agreed. A moment later, there was a crack of energy and Zevran gave a brief cry before collapsing unconscious to the ground. Anders made no effort to catch him.

“Anders! What in the void are you up to? Why would you do that to him?!” Invictus cried out as he went to get the elf off the floor.

“Anders, I’m wondering what this is about as well?” Meneris chimed in, doubly confused.

In answer, Anders rose to his feet and bellowed, “ _Callus Leto Hawke, GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE THIS INSTANT!!_ ”

Hearing that yell got Fenris out of the bath and dressed in a hurry, as well as made everyone jump.

“Maker man, you’re going to send me to the Ancestors if you yell like that again,” Meneris said as he tried to still his heart; Callus dashed in at that moment, Pin, Wynne, Marian and Garrett just behind him as Fenris brought up the rear.

Anders was pointing to Zevran, clearly in a cold fury that Meneris, Dorian and Invictus knew he had not been in before. “ _That_ , young man, is the result of your insult to Dorian and Meneris,” he roared in a voice that would brook no answer or dissent. “You will take Zevran to our room and you will care for him until I tell you otherwise. Am I clear?”

“Yes - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” the youth babbled as he took the unconscious Zevran from Invictus then bore him away swiftly. 

The moment Callus was out of earshot, the rage left Anders’ face and he sat down. “Dorian, Meneris, I think Zevran’s honour has been satisfied. And maybe now I’ll be able to look at his leg and actually heal it, as I’ve been trying to persuade him to let me do all morning.” He glanced around at the others. “I’m sorry to alarm you all, but please do remind Callus of this next time he gets too full of himself?”

Fenris had arrived in time to hear the last of Anders’ words and he was even more confused. “I left for a bath, then I hear Anders using his teacher voice, startling me out of the bath like a wet cat and now...Zevran is knocked out? What happened around here this morning?” 

“Love, just sit down and have breakfast, and know that Cal has had sufficient scolding for stepping over the line with you, Dorian and Meneris aside from what ever else happened to you early in the day.” Vic pushed him into a chair and put a fresh mug of coffee in his husband's hand. 

“I don’t understand,” Fenris muttered as he looked around the room. 

Ellowynne brought a cup of herbal tea to her father; of them all, she alone hadn’t appeared startled by Anders’ outburst. Anders was shrugging with a rueful smile.

“Your son was a brat, Zevran attempted to take punishment in his place, I needed Zevran out for the count because his leg is obviously troubling him so I got Dorian to knock him out and left Callus to think about his actions and the consequences for a bit,” he answered. “Callus isn’t my pupil but he _is_ my step-son.”

Dorian was chuckling. “And very smoothly done,” he replied. “I can’t speak for Meneris, but _I_ am satisfied that the insult done me has been quite adequately atoned for.”

“And now Cal’s grounded in Daddy’s bedroom,” added Ellowynne with a grin. Pin giggled.

“I see.” Fenris sipped his coffee and frowned. He glanced at Pin and kept the sharp words that had come to him in his mouth instead of sniping about them dealing with Cal. He finished his breakfast quietly while the others cleaned up or sat around the table chatting. 

“Want to help me in the garden love? I could use some help with harvesting the root vegetables.” Vic asked as he took the empty plate and mug from his husband.

“Sure, I should put on something suited to working outside, just give me a moment,” replied Fenris.

As he rose, Anders followed him out, saying to the others, “I need to check on Zevran - excuse me.”

Before they could reach the bedroom, Anders caught Fenris’ wrist and inclined his head towards the other spare room that had stood empty. “A word, love?” he asked quietly.

“Must we? I’d rather pretend the last few hours haven’t happened, if it's all the same,” Fenris said even as he let Anders tug him into the room.

“I know, love,” replied Anders as he draped his arms around Fenris’ neck and briefly kissed him. “And if I’ve overstepped the mark with Callus then I apologise. But something happened last night, and I’m worried it’s because of what happened between me and Zevran after we’d all finished last night.” He stared up into Fenris’ eyes and chuckled self-consciously. “Maker, you’d think I’d be used to you being taller than me by now.” 

“Can’t I just ignore the question, give you a kiss and go help Vic in the garden? I really don’t want to talk about it, I was being stupid, please?” Fenris blinked and tears fell unbidden. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just don’t yell like that again.”

“Maker, I’m so sorry,” breathed Anders as he pulled Fenris in close and held him. “If you’d prefer, then yes. I just - I couldn’t bear it if I thought I were the cause of hurt between you and Zevran. I know how much you love him. I would never do anything to hurt you - _either_ of you, believe me.”

Fenris sniffed and pulled the mage close to him for a moment before he stared at him. “I’m sorry, I...guess I’m just not ok still. I was jealous for a bit last night and I think the fight with Cal and then his insult just has me kind of off center. I’m breaking my promise not to run, I’m sorry love, go on and I’ll try not to freak out any more.” 

Anders nodded, then blinked. “Something happened with Callus this morning?” He looked worried. “Maker, I hope I didn’t make things worse? But I just couldn’t let what he’d said to Dorian just go....”

“It was because I tried to be ...I tried to be a father, and I don’t know how, not to someone who grew up a slave. I caught him walking in early and he told me in no uncertain terms that I can’t father him like that. Then the insult to Dorian, Meneris and me...just, it was too much. I swore I’d never hit the kids but I wanted to so badly in that moment. Zevran slapped him before any of us could react and I just walked out. But I just couldn’t deal with it, I’ve been off kilter since losing to Meneris yesterday and ...fuck I’m just messing everything up. I think I’m getting a bit stir crazy without my work as ambassador, or even training others.” Fenris stopped himself before he kept babbling. “I’m stupid is the short answer.”

Anders sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, drawing Fenris down beside him. “Oh love. You’re not stupid.” He drew Fenris into his arms and held him close. “I’ll write to Krem. When last I heard from him, he’d taken on some new recruits for the Chargers. He’ll welcome your help, I’m sure.”

Fenris laughed bitterly at that. “Maybe, I could just be in a mood today and tomorrow I’ll be content to sleep in with you at my side rather than up with the sun. I’m sorry for worrying you, just know that I had a tiny bit of jealousy last night but hopefully I’ve got it under control. I’m sorry to worry you.” He nuzzled against Anders and sighed. “As for Cal, at least he respects someone in this house.”

Anders groaned. “I shouldn’t have had to do that,” he replied. “And I’ll have to talk to Zev about making gestures like that. He’s not in the Crows any longer, and nor is he in the Inquisition; he shouldn’t feel he needs to do shit like that.” He fell silent as he stared at the floor. “Sometimes I wonder if any of us will ever escape our pasts,” he added quietly.

“Right now, I doubt it but I’m the last one to ask about that. Don’t worry about it love, accept that one of your husbands is just having a really, really bad couple of days and hopefully I’ll be ok later; I don’t want to worry you.” Fenris pressed a kiss under his jaw and sat back. “I’m glad you were having fun last night love; sorry if I was too careful.”

Anders smiled. “I was exhausted,” he confided. “I was fucked thoroughly into the mattress, and the ache inside when I woke this morning was so worth it. Maker, you have no idea how much I needed that. Feeling Vic’s hands around my throat at the end - that was just what I needed and I came _so hard_ \- Maker, it would only have been better if it had been your hands, love!” His eyes darkened at the thought. “Fuck, I’m half-hard again just at the memory!”

“Maybe tonight, if Vic doesn’t work me too hard in the garden? I want you to be happy love.” Fenris said with a smile. 

“Oh Maker,” Anders breathed, his breath coming faster. “Please.”

“Please what?” Fenris asked as he felt Anders take one of his hands in his. “Now?” 

Anders’ lips parted and he whimpered faintly.

“Needy,” Fenris whispered as he wrapped his hand around the mage’s throat and squeezed. “That what you need love?”

Anders gasped; his pupils were blown wide and Fenris could see the tenting of the mage’s trousers plainly, Anders’ cock straining stiff and hard against the fabric. “Tighter,” Anders begged.

Fenris complied, staring at his husband as he watched the way Anders’ expression changed and heard the tremble in his voice. “Come for me love, you’re so close.”

Anders choked, trying to gasp for breath in vain. His eyes widened as he stared at Fenris, the elf’s hands wrapped around his throat and halting his breath; and then abruptly he shuddered, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream as his eyes rolled back and he came, hard.

Fenris let go and pulled the mage into his arms, letting his brands light softly. “Anders? Open your eyes, or tap my leg if you can hear me. If you can’t then I’m getting Vic.” 

Anders gasped loudly for breath and panted as he rested against Fenris; after a moment he managed to nod, tapping Fenris’ leg clumsily.

“Fuck,” he wheezed. “Thank you....fuck... that....” He laughed, breathlessly.

“Fucking comes later if you like, can you get up and go to Zevran?” Fenris asked as he stared down at his husband. “I love you so much.”

“I’m not sure I can stand just yet,” Anders panted. He turned his head slightly and gave Fenris a sly smile. “Completely worth it though.”

“Alright, I’ll walk you to the room and then help Vic,” Fenris said as he let Anders lean on him as they walked.

Zevran was stirring as they reached the bedroom; Callus was sitting in a chair beside the bed but jumped up guiltily as they entered.

Fenris said nothing as he helped Anders to the bed and went to change into work clothes.

Anders set to work on Zevran’s leg, ignoring Callus who stood to one side, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other as his gaze darted over to his father then back to Anders as the mage worked on Zevran; the Antivan elf had opened his eyes and was looking around dazedly.

Fenris dressed swiftly, and approached Anders to give him a kiss before going. He noticed the way Cal shifted around but paid the boy no mind, not when he was still cut from their last talk.

Zevran glanced up at Fenris as the elf leaned over him in turn. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he greeted him with a small smile.

“Hi _carissimi_ , feeling better?” Fenris asked.

“Our love finally has me at his mercy and unable to avoid his healing talents, hmm?” Zevran replied ruefully as he gestured at his leg. Anders glanced up briefly.

“And if you’d let me treat you sooner, it would have been over with far less fuss,” he shrugged.

“Let him take care of you love, I’m off to help Vic in the garden. See you later ok?” Fenris pressed a kiss to the elf’s forehead, then to Anders before heading off.

Anders waggled a finger at Zevran. “And I don’t want to hear anything further about appeasing honour,” he added. He finally turned to stare at Callus, raising an eyebrow.

Fenris had paused at the door at the sound of Anders admonishing the Antivan. He smirked at that before he caught sight of his son as he left.

Zevran sighed. “The master is responsible for the apprentice,” he replied. “If the apprentice has not yet learned to guard his tongue, it is the duty of the master to teach him. If the apprentice insults another, then it is for the master to make restitution; it reflects ill upon him.” He shrugged. “But I think honour has been satisfied, yes. Dorian’s Spirit Bolt was not as strong as those of Invictus - though when last I were on the receiving end of _his_ magic, it was not truly him that I faced.”

Anders’ expression grew sombre. “Oh, believe me, it was. I’ve seen the effects of his spells before, including once on Arden - Maker, that was messy. I learned a whole new appreciation for the strength of his Force magic after I found myself on the receiving end mind you. Why do you think I asked Dorian to do it? You wouldn’t have survived otherwise if I’d asked Vic!”

Callus moved forward and spoke quietly. “I apologize, Domne, Ser Hawke. What else do you need of me to make amends?” 

Zevran regarded him sternly. “First, when Anders has finished with my leg, you can assist me up, apprentice mine. And then we shall go find Meneris and Dorian and you shall apologise to them.”

“You’re good to go, I think, Zevran,” Anders shrugged as he rose to his feet. He moved to the wardrobe and started to hunt through for a change of clothes; he was uncomfortably aware of his spend still cooling in his pants, sticky and uncomfortable, and was glad his robes hid the marks upon the groin of his pants. “I think I shall take a bath then go gather herbs with Ellowynne; the high meadow had a promising patch of crystal grace when we passed that way a few days ago, and I want to gather it before the weather turns.”

“What can I get you, Domne?” Callus asked as he watched Zevran sit up and carefully put weight on his healed leg.

“My knives, I think,” replied Zevran. He eyed Callus with a cool gaze and a cold smile. “I think it is time I put you through your paces again.”

Anders chuckled as he moved towards the door leading to the bathroom. “I don’t envy you, Callus,” he called.

“I’ve earned this I think, or I will feel as if I did once we’re done. Do you need anything besides your knives, Domne?” Cal asked.

Zevran grinned, all teeth and threat. “Do you think I need anything else, Callus?” he asked quietly.

“That is not my place to say, ser.” Callus gave a bow before fetching Zevran’s weapons. 

Zevran led the way to the sparring ring; as he and Callus made their way through the house, Pin and Marian tagged along after, curious. Dorian and Meneris exchanged curious glances then followed behind.

Garrett was sitting on the fence, binding off the last section of rope to fix the logs that had felled Dorian the previous afternoon; he grinned as Zevran vaulted the fence and strode to the centre of the ring.

Fenris looked up from their work but didn’t head over to watch, instead he yanked potatoes out as if they had offended him.

“Hey, we need those to be in one piece! Go on in and wash them off if you’re still worked up,” Vic said. As he straightened, Ellowynne came skipping towards him from the house.

“Uncle Vic! Daddy and I are going to pick crystal grace in the meadow,” she grinned. “Daddy wants to know if you’d like us to check to see if the little morel mushrooms are ready to pick yet?”

“Sure sweetheart, I’ll use them in dinner tomorrow if they are. Thank you.” Vic gave her a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “Soon you’ll be too big to pick up kiddo.”

“Not for Uncle Fenris though, right?” she giggled as she skipped over to him for his hug.

“I don’t know imp, you keep growing you’ll be tall as me soon,” Fenris quipped as he picked her up and set her against his hip. “For now though, you’re still light as a bag of feathers.”

“Her mother was tall for an elf too,” remarked Anders as he walked over to join them. “Though you’d dwarf pretty much any elf, love.” He leaned up to kiss Fenris. His hair was damp, and he wore fresh clothes. 

He glanced over to Invictus. “We’ll probably be gone a couple of hours, but we should be back before Arden and Hal get here.”

“Be safe, alright? I still get worried when you go off alone.” Fenris said before setting Wynne down. “Take good care of your papa ok?”

“OK, Uncle Fenris! And Daddy isn’t alone - he’s got me!”

Anders chuckled as he made his way over to kiss Invictus. “Come along, Imp - the crystal grace isn’t going to pick itself!”

They headed off along the path that led to the high meadow. It was a bright, sunny morning; warm, but with a brisk breeze to make it bearable. The sounds of Zevran and Callus sparring carried after them, along with the shouts of encouragement; the noises faded as they headed into the woods.

Anders smiled as Ellowynne chattered excitedly, pointing out squirrels in the trees and asking the names of unfamiliar plants or pointing out the ones whose names she knew. He let the chatter wash over him, content and at peace.

They’d often talked of moving to Nevarra; none of them could have dreamed when they’d fled Kirkwall that it would take them so long to reach here - but their life out here in the wilds was all that Anders had ever wanted. He had his loved ones, he had his freedom. He had nothing else to want for.

Perhaps that was why he was lacking caution as they gathered crystal grace in the meadow. It had always been a place of safety; no-one ever came there apart from Anders and Ellowynne, and occasionally Pin when they were gathering herbs.

His first inkling of danger was a sudden harsh buzzing of a bowstring a split second before the arrow took him in the left shoulder; he stared down at it in surprise as the dark red of blood began to seep through the white linen of his shirt. He lifted a hand towards the shaft, even as he felt the icy sting of magebane in his veins.

“Daddy!” shrieked Ellowynne; he lifted his eyes and his heart fell as armed men moved out from the shadows of the trees.

“So, at last I have found you, Anders. I don’t know by what foul sorcery you yet live, maleficar, but at last I shall put an end to you for what you did!” hissed Sebastian as he strode out into the sunshine.

“Ellowynne, _run!_ ” Anders screamed.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and co to the rescue.
> 
> CW: lots of sex. :-)

Zevran eyed Callus, panting, and grinned. “So, my apprentice. You are unarmed and my blade is at your throat. I ask again: will you yield?”

“Yes Domne, I yield,” Callus got out before he heard screaming. “What?”

The smile left Zevran’s face as he turned, eyes widening. “That is the Imp!” he exclaimed. He sprinted across the sparring ring and vaulted the fence easily.

He could see the young girl running along the path that led to the meadow, hurtling on light, swift feet as she ran towards the house, screaming for Zevran, for Fenris, for Invictus.

“Fenris!” shouted Zevran as he took off running towards her.

“Maker, what’s happened?” exclaimed Arden. He and Hal had arrived in the middle of the sparring match between Zevran and his apprentice; they now exchanged a look then took off after Zevran, as did the others.

Fenris bolted out of the house and caught up with Zevran, overtaking the shorter elf to scoop up Wynne. “What happened Imp, where’s your father?” 

“Soldiers,” she panted, eyes wide with distress. “Templars, and - and a man with chestnut hair and white armour! Daddy’s hurt - they shot him. The man in white armour called him ‘maleficar’!”

Zevran swore. “Sebastian - it can be no other!”

“His heart is mine. Wynne, go inside with Cal and Pin, I have someone to kill.” Fenris carefully put her down then took off at a dead run towards the way Wynne had come running. 

“Wait, Fenris!” called Arden as he and Hal caught up to them. “I have the right to be there when you take his heart. I still bear the scars of what he did to me!”

“If Anders is hurt, you’ll need my healing!” added Hal.

“ _Amicus_ , you have my aid,” panted Dorian as he joined them, unslinging his staff.

“Then fucking move it!” Fenris snarled as he waited for them to catch up. “Or should I just change?”

“Not unless you take me with you, _carissimi_!” exclaimed Zevran as he laid a hand on Fenris’ arm. He glanced at Invictus.

“You need me to show you the way,” panted Ellowynne. “You have to follow.” She took off back up the path towards the woods and the meadow.

“Imp!” cried Zevran; he sprinted after her.

“Hal?” asked Arden.

“Run; I can keep up,” nodded the red-head. 

Fenris changed mid-stride and let them climb on so Ellowynne could guide him. He stayed low to the ground so he could drop them once they were close enough to jump down and he could switch back.

Even then, they were all conscious of the passing of time. How long had it taken Ellowynne to run for help? Zevran and Invictus exchanged frantic glances.

“If he has harmed him....” breathed Zevran; he was unable to finish the sentence.

Fenris changed back at the edge of the woods and they plunged beneath the trees, darting into the shadows and following the lithe girl.

They came to the edge of the meadow and paused. At the far side, they could see a group of soldiers and templars gathered about a horse. It stood still, a single figure upon its back.

Anders sat astride the horse, his hands bound behind his back, a noose about his neck. The left shoulder of his shirt was dark with blood, and the mage was pale. As they stared, a voice with a distinct Starkhaven burr carried clearly to them across the meadow.

“Anders, for the deaths of Elthina and the innocent souls you slaughtered in the Kirkwall Chantry, I sentence you to death. You will hang by the neck till you be dead, and may the Maker have mercy upon your soul, maleficar!”

Fenris didn’t think; he merely reacted. He reached out and grabbed Invictus and Zevran, and teleported them within the circle of soldiers at the exact moment Sebastian struck the horse upon the rump with the flat of his sword. The horse reared and sprang forward, and Anders swung upon the end of the rope, choking as his legs kicked futilely.

There was a flash of light and Fenris stood before Sebastian; a whoosh of heat and a dull thud behind him told him that Invictus had severed the rope with a blast of flame as he sprinted for Anders. Screams erupted as Zevran’s knives began their deadly dance against the soldiers and templars.

And Fenris grinned savagely as Sebastian backed away, face ashen.

“Hello Sebastian, fancy meeting you here,” the elf said as he advanced on the archer. “You actually thought you’d take him from us, on our land, practically in our back yard?”

“He has escaped justice for far too long!” spat Sebastian. “I swore that day in Kirkwall that I would come for your precious Anders and I would make an end of him!” He gestured behind Fenris. “No matter what you do to me, Elthina is at last avenged. Look there, and see your maleficar lover, dead at last!”

The elf turned, and howled in rage at seeing Anders limp in Invictus’ arms. He turned to face the noble, eyes aglow and claws out. “He was no maleficar, he was chosen by your Andraste to return to us! She gave him back and you will pay for taking him!”

“Blasphemy!” exclaimed Sebastian. “You dare profane Her name thus?”

He was distracted as Anders suddenly coughed as he lay in Invictus’ arms; the former Champion had wrenched the noose free from his throat, and the unconscious man drew a ragged breath then coughed again, even as Hal and Arden sprinted to Invictus’ side. Hal dropped to his knees and reached for Anders, his hands already glowing blue with healing magic as Arden hastened to Fenris’ side.

“No - no, he cannot still live - _how_?” exclaimed Sebastian, then his eyes widened as he recognised Arden. “ _You!!_ But - you should be dead!”

“Too bad for you that I survived. Can’t say the same for you,” replied Arden. He turned to Fenris. “He’s yours,” he said flatly. 

“Finally,” Fenris smiled as he lit his brands and shoved his hand through Sebastian’s chest, sure to pierce his heart rather than simply crush it. Sebastian’s eyes widened as his mouth opened wide in a silent scream, though the only sound that escaped his throat was a low gurgle. Fenris savoured the look of agony upon the Starkhaven prince’s face as he held his hand there and felt Sebastian shudder. Finally, Fenris pulled his hand free, letting Sebastian land with a thud. “Come, Anders needs us.” He turned away.

Arden stared down at Sebastian’s dead body, the blue eyes gazing sightlessly in shock. Arden’s face was pale as he stood there, hands clenched at his side. His jaw twitched, then he leaned over and spat in Sebastian’s face. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Anders was breathing raggedly, his eyelids fluttering slightly. Ellowynne was kneeling near his head, watching anxiously as Hal worked to heal Anders’ throat; he glanced up as Fenris approached.

“He’ll be alright,” Hal assured them. “Invictus got to him in time.”

“I’ll check the perimeter of the property after I get my armor on, this will not happen again,” Fenris said with a hard look to the others. 

“Love?” Vic asked as he glanced up to see the hardened expression on the elf’s face.

They were surrounded by the cries of dying men; to one side they could hear a hiss and sizzle as Dorian took out several soldiers with a fireball. A man screamed on the other side of the clearing as Meneris’ sword cleaved through him.

The clearing fell silent, and Zevran emerged from beneath the trees. He was drenched in blood, his blades dripping; he limped slowly across the clearing towards them.

Fenris glanced at his husband and smiled ferally before coming to kiss him. “Good work, any left for me?”

Zevran shook his head. “I killed them all, save those that Dorian and Meneris killed,” he said quietly. He glanced over at Sebastian’s corpse. “Tell me he died in agony, _carissimi_. And tell me Anders lives.”

“Oh yes, I made it as painful as I know how and thanks to Vic and Hal, Anders will be fine. Let us go home, I will ferry us,” Fenris offered with that same coldness in his voice.

“I think that will be better, I don’t want to to overtax anyone after the fight,” Vic said as he rose with an arm around Anders. The blond mage was just about capable of standing, one hand clasped over the wound in his shoulder as he stared about himself, dazed.

“I can create a portal,” offered Dorian.

“Either way, get us home sooner than later,” Fenris snarled as he swung Anders up into his arms and felt Ellowynne clutch at one of his legs to be near her father.

“Fenris?” whispered Anders, his voice a low rasp. “Wynne... where....”

“I’m here, Daddy,” said Ellowynne, her expression grave and seeming far too calm and adult for her years as she took her father’s hand.

Dorian called up a portal leading directly into their bedroom. “Gentlemen and young lady?”

Fenris went first, straight to the bathing chamber, ignoring the shouts of Callus and Pin as he passed them. 

Invictus was next with Wynne in his arms, and Zevran right behind him. The former First Enchanter had barely let his step-daughter down before she ran after her uncle.

Marian and Pin exchanged glances, then hurried after, leaving Callus, Dorian, Garrett and Meneris to wonder what had happened. 

Hal stumbled towards the parlour, Arden’s arm around his shoulders.

“Arden?” said Dorian as he took a step towards the blond mage. “Are you alright?”

Arden halted then turned. He seemed to stare through Dorian. “It’s... over,” he said slowly. “I thought... I thought I would feel... I don’t know, relief? But... nothing’s changed.” His face suddenly contorted in distressed. “Nothing’s changed! I feel empty, dead inside! Nothing’s changed!”

“It never will, I know because of how I felt after Danarius died from my hand,” Fenris said as he passed by for towels. “This won’t change Arden, we can speak later if you want to.”

Arden stared at Fenris, and then gave a sudden sob.

Hal turned and wrapped his arms around Arden as the blond mage broke down. “I’ll take him into the parlour,” he said quietly before leading the sobbing man away.

Fenris was quiet as he helped bathe Anders, then gestured to Zevran. “Come, you need this more than I do.” 

Zevran stared down at the blood, then slowly nodded. “This is... not all mine,” he said with a shrug. He’d tried to clean his blades, but it seemed every scrap of clothing he wore were drenched in gore. He let his knives fall then began to strip off.

Anders lay in the tub, his head resting against the edge, one hand slowly rubbing at the rope burn about his throat as he stared at the ceiling.

Fenris helped Zevran rinse off before helping him into the tub, and wetting a flannel. He was quiet as he started to wash the other elf off, occasionally throwing glances to Anders. “What do you need, both of you?”

“Brandy,” sighed Zevran as he fingered a long shallow slash that began just below his throat and travelled diagonally down to his ribs on the left; it was slowly seeping blood into the water. If it troubled him, he gave no sign of it. “Much brandy.”

“I will have your apprentice get you something, can you manage for a bit?” Fenris asked in that odd monotone he’d dropped to. Zevran nodded. 

“I will drink brandy and then I will sleep,” he shrugged, then looked to Anders. “My heart?”

Anders blinked, then turned his head. “I think I just want to curl up with you two and Vic, and I want Wynne, and I want to sleep,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Sebastian - he’s dead?” He looked at Fenris.

“He can’t get any more dead, I could ask Dorian to confirm if you wish Anders,” Fenris replied before rising for a towel.

Anders sat up. “Maker. I thought I was going to die. I thought...”

Zevran sat up and drew Anders into his arms. “You live, my heart,” he breathed quietly. “And no-one will harm you again, I swear this.”

“You won’t, that’s final,” Fenris said before going to get Cal. He found the boy in the parlour with Invictus.

“Master Arainai requests a drink, his favorite is Antivan Brandy, he’s in the bath if you’d take it to him,” Fenris asked coolly.

Callus rose to his feet and bowed his head. “Yes, Father,” he replied quietly. He glanced to Arden, who was curled up on a couch with his head in Hal’s lap, weeping softly. Then he went to the drinks cabinet, selected a bottle of Antivan brandy, and edged carefully past Fenris to head to the bathroom.

Fenris made a noise of disgust at how careful Callus was when passing then heading to the sideboard for a bottle of his favorite. He read the label, and went out to pitch the bottle far as he could.

“Father?” said Pin quietly as she cautiously approached him.

“Yes?” Fenris replied as he stared over the garden. 

“Will... will Master Anders be alright?” she asked as she came to stand beside him. “And Wynne... I’m so worried about her. She’s been so quiet. Marian is with her right now.”

“Yes, he will be fine. I think we’re all going to stay close to home for a while. Wynne will be ok, I think, she’s a resilient child. Are you ok?” Fenris asked.

She turned and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m worried, Father,” she said. “You seem so angry towards Cal, and Wynne shouldn’t be dealing with all this - and Anders... his wound... the scarring on his throat... Father, they tried to kill him, didn’t they?” She suddenly hugged him. “You must have been so afraid for him.”

“I am hurt Pin, and angry but that is not your worry. I ...feel numb right now, and I just want it to stop for a while,” Fenris admitted as he continued to stare past her.

“It _is_ my worry, Father,” she insisted. “Cal is my brother, and you’re my papa - and you’re both hurting so much and I want to fix it but I don’t know _how_... Oh Papa, my Papa!” She buried her face against his chest as she tried to stifle a sob.

“Don’t cry Pin, it will be ok eventually. Cal doesn’t need me like that, and I need to let go, to realize that I can’t be a father like I’ve seen others handle their children. Go inside and check on Anders, be a good girl for me?” Fenris asked quietly, surprised when she hugged him close.

She hugged him tighter for a moment, then reluctantly pulled away and nodded. She looked up at him and gave him a tearful smile before she turned to go inside once more.

He went to his knees once she was gone and stayed like that until someone came for him long after Pin had gone in.

“ _Amicus_?” asked Dorian quietly as he closed the door behind him then came to sit on the low wall around the garden.

Fenris turned at the sound of Dorian’s voice and sighed, he still felt rather hollow even with time to himself. “We can’t catch a damn break Dorian, it just seems like once things start to go wrong, they don’t stop. All of this in less than a day and a-half, it is too much. I’ve been sitting here in the dirt, thinking you know. Wondering what brought all this to us, to have Sebastian nearly at our door. All this time, that bastard was still searching? Was it bad luck, or us being seen too often?”

The elf laughed as he turned to look to his friend with that same blank expression. “You should leave me here, I don’t know that I’m fit to be around anyone yet. I’m...feeling broken again and I shouldn’t put them through that, not when I’m like this. I’ll come in eventually.” 

Dorian moved towards him. “We’ll investigate - a group of soldiers like that won’t have moved unseen. I’m sure they must have passed through the village. We’ll find out, _Amicus_. The important thing is that Anders is very much alive - and Sebastian is very, very dead.”

“Fenris?” 

The elf turned at the weak, wavery voice; Anders had stepped out and was looking towards him. He was dressed in a fresh white shirt and grey pants. Someone had put his left arm in a sling; Hal had been unable to do much for the shoulder wound thanks to the magebane.

He stumbled a little as he made his way towards Fenris; Dorian reached out a hand to steady him and helped him to sit next to Fenris. The blond mage leaned against the warrior elf and rested his head against Fenris’ shoulder.

“Thank you for coming for me, love,” he murmured.

The elven warrior wrapped an arm around the mage and hugged him gently. “I would not have left you to him Anders. No matter the cost, he was not going to have your life. Why aren’t you in bed and resting?” Fenris asked. 

Anders shook his head. “Couldn’t - couldn’t relax enough to rest... not without you, love.” He swallowed hard. “Maker, I thought - when I felt the rope tighten - I thought -” He shuddered, then turned his head to press his face against Fenris’ chest as he fought to control his breathing. “So glad you came,” he whispered. “I’m not ready to die. Not again. Not when I have so much to live for.” 

“Sorry that I kept you waiting, but I can’t rest either. My mind and heart is ill at ease and nothing can soothe that but time and work on my part. Will you let Dorian take you inside? I’m not really fit to be around anyone just yet,” Fenris said as he ran a hand through Anders’ hair, slow and easy. 

Anders clenched his eyes closed for a moment, focusing on the sensation of Fenris’ fingers in his hair, then reluctantly straightened as Dorian crouched down next to him and waited for him to stand, offering his arm to steady Anders. The blond mage got to his feet slowly, then cast Fenris a last, unhappy glance before he allowed Dorian to gently guide him back inside.

The elven warrior rested his chin on his folded arms, closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He knew if he stayed out there too long, everyone would come out to him and he just wanted to have a little longer. He’d figured out what was wrong with him, why he wasn’t “fixed” as he’d hoped when Mythal had worked through his beloved. He didn’t know what to do with the truth staring at him.

There were footsteps behind him, and then Dorian lowered himself to sit on the ground next to Fenris. “Anders is resting in bed. Invictus and Zevran are with him at the moment. Despite his protestations, I suspect he may well fall asleep soon; the poor fellow is utterly wrung out I think.” He glanced to Fenris. “As, I think, perhaps are you, _amicus_?”

“Yes, and I don’t want to inflict my poor mood on them so I want to be alone. Being alone upsets them so what do I do to get my mind settled Dorian?” Fenris asked tiredly. 

Dorian lifted a hand to rest it lightly on Fenris’ shoulder, mindful of the swirling lines of lyrium etched through the elf’s skin. “Feel free to inflict your poor mood and your thoughts upon me, _amicus_ ,” he suggested with a gentle smile. “They know I’m out here and thus you are not alone - and I think perhaps your thoughts may be ones you are unwilling to share with them just yet? You will find me a good listener, I think, and I swear there is nothing you can say that could possibly make me think less of you, Fenris. You, Anders and the others have been through far too much and borne up with far more fortitude than I could have done. There is no shame in admitting one has had enough, under such circumstances, my friend.” His smile was kindly as he regarded Fenris thoughtfully.

Fenris laughed as he considered the magister he now called friend. “Then I have had enough, I am not fit for anything right now. I have never had the time or space to be left alone with my own thoughts except in Skyhold. Even then, I was never truly alone. I took up writing my thoughts but even that wasn’t something I felt I did well. I realized while I’ve been out here, that I’m still broken in ways and its nothing I did wrong.” 

Dorian nodded slowly, in a gesture clearly meant to encourage Fenris to continue.

“I’ve been...traumatized, I think is the word in Trade. I was literal property Dorian, that left scars that won’t be fixed even with Mythal’s power. I thought I was past it when I lost my fear of mages, when I realized that Invictus losing his temper didn’t have to mean me cowering or turning in on myself, or worse. I’ve been thinking about Callus and Vulpine, if they even need me in their lives. They came to me nearly grown, yet I keep trying to father them as if I’d been there from the beginning, or if any of us had been free instead of growing up in the Imperium. I just wanted to be good to them, and I can’t do that right.”

Fenris sniffed and wiped at his face as he paused, unsure if his friend would understand or if he was merely listening out of politeness. After all Dorian had grown up subjugating elves and other less fortunate mages because of his place in society. 

Dorian pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in his tunic and proffered it to Fenris.

“I cannot claim to know what it must have been like for you or your children to grow up like that,” he said softly. “I bitterly regret that I am a product of the very worst of the Imperium - bred like some damned stud stallion to perform, and I suppose to the void with whoever had to be used and discarded along the way if I’d performed _adequately_.” His voice dripped with bitterness. “I was defective however, in my own way - but that still doesn’t excuse the things that I saw going on daily around me. I am a part of that same faceless machine that treated you, Pin and Callus as objects, and I don’t think there’s anything I can ever say or do that can put right the wrongs that were done to you all.” He lowered his head for a moment, then glanced back up at Fenris.

“But know this, Fenris - it took great strength of character to reach out to those children - and to _keep_ reaching out, no matter how prickly their attitude towards you. I know nothing really of children - I’m the last person who’s ever likely to sire offspring of my own, after all - but one thing I _have_ learned from watching Anders around his own daughter is that in the end, all you can do is give them love and security, and hope to make the best of it - and that depends on how much they’re willing to make the best of it too. Callus will come round in the end; he’s an angry young man still trying to find his way in the world and contend with his own freedom.”

He leaned back on his hands and crossed his legs at the ankle as he stared out across the valley. “Pin seems to have her head screwed on straight. I know she was wary and hostile when she first arrived in Skyhold, but after that nasty business with the assassin in the infirmary she seemed to warm up to you. You may not have raised her from a baby, but there’s definitely affection between the two of you.” He leaned over slightly towards Fenris and smiled. “Give Cal some time. He’s far too much like you, _amicus_. Give him space and he’ll come around eventually.”

“He used to be less like me, and Pin more my child just by temper alone.” Fenris inhaled as he turned towards the sky and tried to gather his thoughts. “Mostly, I’m hurting Dorian. Cal hurt me deeply and I was never good talking about my feelings, and how do I talk to him, when he’s so damned full of himself and pushing me away? I’m tired of being vulnerable, I miss it sometimes, that hardness I had right after my escape. Things didn’t cut so deep or linger as much when I was alone, when I just had me to worry about. Sometimes, when I’m in a bad place, I wish I’d never escaped - that I’d never found Hawke or learned to be free. It was easier then in a way.” 

Dorian leaned back on his elbows and stared up at the sky. “You know, when I was Callus’ age, I was the most damnably arrogant brat. You thought I was insufferable when first we met? That was nothing to what I was like at eighteen. I swear, you would have wanted to rip my heart out within three seconds of laying eyes on me - and frankly, at that point you would probably have been doing the world a favour!” He laughed. “ _Venhedis_ , everyone despised me - but not half so much as I despised myself. I whored myself around to anyone who would fuck me - half as a big ‘up yours’ to my father, and half just to feel that _someone_ actually gave a damn about me. Well, at least long enough to fuck me into the mattress before they threw me out like something dirty they’d found on their shoes.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Well, except for Rilienus....” He swallowed hard. “Even he wanted nothing to do with me in the end though. Handed me back to my father, just as everyone else did. I was nothing and no-one.” He opened his eyes and glanced to Fenris. “It wasn’t until I joined the Inquisition that I finally felt I was worth something. And that’s when I learned to actually let people in, slowly. I had friends, and then....” He smiled slightly. “And then I let Meneris in just a little too far. He... he saw me at my most vulnerable, when I was hurting - after my father used trickery to try and see me. I’m still not entirely certain he wouldn’t have tried to kidnap me back to Tevinter had Meneris not been there....”

He sat up and briskly dusted his hands off. “Well. Anyway. I let him in, and that was it. Smitten. Still not quite sure how I got so lucky - a husband, and good friends? I could never have imagined that was even possible when I was a brat of eighteen.” He turned to Fenris. “I think I turned out not too badly, all things considered. And I dare say Callus will as well - and he has a father who would never have dreamed in a million years of using blood magic to make him something he isn’t, because his father -” Dorian’s face contorted briefly, his eyes suddenly suspiciously bright - “His father _loves_ him and wants only the best for him, and wouldn’t dream of forcing his will on his son but lets him be a man. And he’ll be a man you can be _proud_ of, _amicus_.” His voice was trembling as he spoke, but behind the shining eyes there was a fierceness.

Fenris turned to let Dorian see how he’d been affected by his words, the pain he’d shared before clinging to him and sobbing. 

Dorian gave a small gasping sob of his own then bit his lip as he held Fenris in return. He swallowed hard as he fought to control his breathing before finally bowing his head and softly crying too.

Just inside the door, Zevran turned to Callus; he stared at the youth for a moment before turning away, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth as he breathed hard and blinked rapidly.

The younger elf looked to his mentor, then his father huddled up with his magister friend, conflicted on how to feel. He’d heard everything they’d said; and his heart was torn. He hadn’t thought that his words had hurt Fenris but knowing the truth, seeing how his father wept had thrown him. He turned to Zevran in hopes he had advice or something.

Zevran lowered his hand and drew a shuddering breath before turning to Callus, slipping easily back into the smile that always hid so much. “So, my young apprentice,” he said softly. “I think perhaps it is time you actually spoke to your father, yes?”

“Now?” Cal asked warily. “He’s so vulnerable right now, what if he tells me to leave him alone too?” 

Zevran turned and looked at Fenris and Dorian, then gestured. “Go. If ever Fenris needed a kind word from you, Callus, now is that time. You have wounded him. Only you can help heal him.”

“I just hope he’ll hear me and not send me back in here, you heard him!” Cal said before glancing at his father & Dorian then back to his mentor. “He’s crying, the last time I saw him do that he was so drunk I had to put him to bed. I ...I’m afraid to approach him,” the young rogue finally admitted.

Zevran regarded him sadly. “And he is afraid that you will not,” he answered simply. “Go. I ask this not as your mentor - but as the lover of your father. He is hurting, and I... I cannot heal this hurt. Would you have me beg?”

“No domne, I would not ask that of you. For what its worth, I _am sorry_.” Cal said before approaching the two men and calling out to his father. “Papa?”

Dorian blinked and jumped slightly, startled by Callus’ approach. “ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” he muttered to himself. “I... I should go, _amicus_ , unless you wish me to stay?” He wiped at his eyes, heedless of the kohl that smeared upon his hand.

Fenris glanced at his child and turned back to gaze at the sky. “You can go Dorian, may I come find you after if I need a shoulder or a drink?” 

Dorian nodded. “Of course, _amicus_. Meneris and I need to leave soon - we are expecting guests at Skyhold this evening - but I am at your disposal. Perhaps... perhaps some time at Skyhold might be just the ticket for you, too? Hmm?” He got to his feet. “Just a thought.” He smiled, then gave Callus a brief nod before turning to head back into the house.

Callus shifted from one foot to the other, restless, then abruptly sat down in the space Dorian had just vacated. He swallowed hard, then looked at his father. “Papa... I... I’m sorry,” he finally managed.

Fenris didn’t look at the boy at his side, merely gazed at the sky. “Are you, really? Or did one of them send you out here?” He was brusque, sure the apology wasn’t coming freely. 

Callus stared at the dirt. “I... Zevran asked me to... to make right what I’d done. He shouldn’t have had to though... because I should have come sooner. I... I was afraid....”

“You weren’t afraid earlier, certainly not when you spoke to me as you did. You’ve made it clear what place I have in your life Callus, I won’t overstep again,” Fenris replied, knowing he wasn’t being fair in his hurt.

Callus’ head jerked up and he stared at his father, eyes wide and uncertain. “Father... I was _wrong_ , I didn’t mean - I....” His voice trailed away, and he swallowed hard. He looked worried and almost desperate as he stared at Fenris. “Please, I... I want to put this right,” he whispered.

Fenris finally looked at Cal, so his son could see the fresh tears threatening to fall. “You do? Then you really mean your apology? You are truly sorry? Cal, I was worried, that’s all,” the older elf admitted. 

“I do, I am!” cried Callus, tears beginning to run down his own face. “Papa, _please!_ ”

Fenris tugged Cal into his arms and cradled the younger elf to him. “I was worried, I just want to be a good father, will you let me?” he asked softly.

“Papa, you _are_ a good father, I - I just don’t know how to be a good son,” confessed Callus. “Pin - she seems to have taken to things so much better than I have, and I just... Papa, I’m not sure just where I fit in any more. It was so much simpler back in Tevinter, when all I had to worry about was keeping Master happy.”

“Freedom is hard Cal, but you’ll get it. Void, I still don’t get it right all the time. You’re a good son, sometimes, I’m not always a good father. I have to remember you’re not a little boy. I’m sorry too.” Fenris felt Cal hug him back finally and he sighed in relief at one thing going right. 

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen across the valley as they air cooled, until there was a footstep behind them - a deliberate scuff of a leather boot against the dusty path, and a throat was cleared behind them.

“Will you both sit and freeze out here all night, or will you come into the warm and bid Meneris and Dorian farewell?” asked Zevran quietly.

Fenris caught himself before he yelped at the Antivan’s appearance. “I might not have a weak heart but you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” 

Callus chuckled. “I knew it was Master Zevran,” he grinned.

“Warn me next time,” Fenris groused as he struggled to get up. “I can’t do that like I used to, I think I need a hot bath.” 

“Come and bid our guests farewell, and then I will draw you a bath, _carissimi_ ,” promised Zevran.

“Thank you, Zevran,” Fenris said as he headed inside. 

Meneris and Dorian were waiting in the foyer of the house; Dorian had washed his face and reapplied his kohl so it was once again immaculate, though his eyes still seemed a little red. Meneris gave Fenris an odd look as he entered, then glanced at Dorian, but said nothing.

Anders had emerged from the bedroom and was leaning against Invictus, looking as though he’d only just woken and wasn’t entirely with it; he smiled as he saw Fenris walking next to Callus however.

The warrior noticed the look from his fellow fighter but let it lie. Instead he embraced Dorian, and thanked him before he turned to Meneris. “Be good to him, and if you are ok with it I’d like to visit soon.” 

“You’re always welcome, just send a raven to let us know or use the rings. You be good to you, and them.” Meneris gave him a brief hug before retaking Dorian’s hand. “We shouldn’t keep our guests waiting too long love.”

Invictus wanted to drag Fenris to their room to talk but held off, mostly because Anders was in his arms. The blond mage was very drowsy but had insisted on getting up to see their guests off.

“Remember what I said, _amicus_ ,” smiled Dorian to Fenris. “There’s a warm welcome for you at Skyhold any time.” He turned and gave the others a small wave of the hand before he stepped a little way apart from them all, shook out his arms then with a grandiose gesture he threw open a portal with perhaps a touch more flare and light than was strictly necessary. He gave Fenris a wink, then he and Meneris stepped through and the portal winked out of existence with a faint pop of inrushing air.

The foyer seemed distinctly emptier with them both gone.

Fenris tilted his head towards their room when Invictus raised an eyebrow at him. “Later Vic, Anders looks barely upright as it is. I’ll join you after a bath.” 

“Alright, just...I was worried when you stayed out and when Dorian came in looking like someone either punched him or dashed water on him.” Vic replied as he got Anders headed back to their room. “Come on sleepyhead, time for real sleep.”

“Hmm?” Anders looked up, his eyes glazed. “Sorry, I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open,” he murmured. “Zev, what was in that tea? Chamomile, but something... something else....”

“Invictus is right - I think you should be sleeping, my heart, yes?” replied the Antivan smoothly. “Come, Invictus and I shall put you back to bed and then I shall draw a bath for Fenris whilst you rest.”

Callus followed behind Fenris, halting at the doorway. “May I bring you a drink papa?” 

“If you wish, that would be nice Cal. Thank you,” Fenris replied after tugging his tunic off and starting to fill a bucket. Zevran emerged from the bedroom a couple of minutes later, drawing the door closed behind him before crossing to the huge tub that dominated the room and began to fill it. They had all been heartily glad to have the dwarven plumbing installed - Meneris had lent them Dagna’s services shortly after they arrived in Nevarra, and Cassandra had supplied the assistance of several master craftsmen. The resulting installation was easily the equal of the gloriously huge tub Hawke had had put in back in Kirkwall that had fitted all four of them - just about.

Steam began to fill the room as Zevran straightened and smiled at Fenris. “Do you wish to bathe alone, or would you like me to wash your back, _carissimi_?” he inquired.

“That would be welcome, Zevran,” Fenris said as he sat forward to let the other elf wash him. He pulled his hair aside and closed his eyes. 

Zevran knelt beside the tub and began to wash Fenris’ back, lathering up his hands with soap before massaging Fenris’ back, deftly working to unlock the warrior’s tense muscles. He bent lower as he worked his hands down Fenris’ spine, ignoring the sound of the door opening behind them as Callus returned with Fenris’ drink; he was intent only on what he was doing as Fenris groaned in appreciation.

Instead of interrupting, Callus left the drink on a stool within his father’s reach and shut the door behind him, hurrying out to avoid hearing them, again. 

Zevran straightened and chuckled. “ _Carissimi_ , I think your son was afraid he might be interrupting us. Would you perhaps like to be doing something he would not like to interrupt?” His smile was devious. “My body is entirely at your command this night. What do you wish, my love?”

Fenris was silent; Zevran waited, then frowned slightly. He rinsed his hands in the water then moved around so he could see Fenris’ face. “ _Carissimi_?” he said softly.

Fenris set his glass aside then gestured for Zevran to come closer. The Antivan blinked, then with a glance to the door to assure himself it was closed, he pulled off his boots and shirt before shimmying out of his pants. Then he slipped into the water and knelt in front of Fenris, between the other elf’s knees.

“What would you have of me, my love?” he asked gently.

The taller elf leaned in to kiss Zevran for a while, needing the contact. “I… am not in a place to be in control, I would rather submit, get out of my head for a while. Can you do that for me? If not, I understand.” Fenris resumed kissing and nuzzling at the other elf while he awaited an answer.

Zevran tilted his head a little to one side. “Yes, I can do that for you, my love,” he nodded. “You only have to ask.” He smiled, then leaned forward to nip lightly at Fenris’ lip as he slid a hand into the soft white hair. “Gentle or rough?” he breathed in Fenris’ ear before slowly tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue delicately, drawing it along the tip before breathing gently upon it. He chuckled as he felt Fenris involuntarily shiver; he lowered his hand to palm Fenris’ cock and felt it stirring against his hand.

“Rough as you can give me, I need to forget everything and get out of this void in my mind,” Fenris rumbled in his ear. “Rope, toys, whatever you want I will do if it means you push me to my limits Zev.” 

Zevran pulled away slightly, his golden eyes searching Fenris’ gaze. “Then I must know what those limits are, _carissimi_.”

“Blood, and a collar are my only limits tonight. Rope around my neck or a gag is alright, if I manage to say _malum_ then stop.” Fenris bowed his head and waited Zevran’s command. 

“If you cannot speak at any point then there, also, I will stop,” replied Zevran firmly. “And I would sooner cut off my right hand than ever see a collar around your throat again, _carissimi_.”

“Sorry, I meant a rope collar which I am fine with since I know I can rip it off if need be. I like it more for breathplay than a hand at times, but I think it would make me panic tonight.” Fenris snuck another kiss in before resuming a submissive position.

“After seeing Anders hang? No, I could not do that to any of you,” replied Zevran gravely. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and a strange calm settled over him. He lifted a hand to caress Fenris’ cheek before sliding it slowly into Fenris’ hair. He locked eyes with Fenris and then abruptly tightened his grip in the warrior’s hair and yanked hard, forcing Fenris’ head back. His other hand snaked down between the warrior’s thighs and questing fingers brushed his taint before Zevran forced Fenris to rise upon his knees. A finger probed against Fenris’ entrance and then pushed steadily inside him.

“You want this?” said Zevran calmly. “How much do you want it?”

“Enough to beg you, cry and plead if it will please you, ser,” Fenris moaned.

Zevran laughed. “Beg? Hmm, and how prettily will you beg?” Two fingers thrust up into his body and then twisted, just _so_ , brushing his sweet spot but not quite enough.

“Please...oh Maker, please more of that… ser,” Fenris gasped, taken by surprise. 

Zevran pulled his fingers free then rose, his other hand still gripping Fenris’ hair. He sat down on the edge of the tub and spread his legs then pulled Fenris’ head towards his groin and his half-hard cock.

“You want more? Earn it,” he ordered.

“Yes ser,” Fenris breathed before leaning forward to take Zevran in his mouth, whining as he felt the way his hair pulled in the other elf’s grip.

Zevran drew a shuddering breath as he felt the heat of Fenris’ mouth around his cock and then the press and drag of his tongue along his shaft. He felt himself hardening and groaned. “Ah, Fenris,” he groaned softly. “I don’t know whether to let you ride me, or simply bend you over and fuck you senseless. Perhaps I shall do both?”

The other elf kept sucking but shivered at his husband’s words. He pulled back just to breathe before taking Zevran down to the base, sucking steadily and using his tongue just as he knew the other elf liked.

Zevran cried out hoarsely and clutched at Fenris’ head, involuntarily snapping his hips forward to thrust down the white-haired elf’s throat until he heard Fenris gag. Panting, he pushed the other elf away. “Enough - I do not wish to come yet,” he panted. “Out of the water; you cannot ride me there.”

He pulled his feet up out of the water then turned to lay out a towel. He glanced around then rose to find a vial of oil, which he set down beside the towel before he lay down. 

“Prepare yourself, but stand above me as you do so, so that I may watch,” he commanded.

Fenris bit his lip to keep from using his word so soon, but he got the oil but didn’t quite obey. He began to stretch himself but didn’t give Zevran a clear view as ordered.

Zevran was laying back, slowly fisting his own cock and pumping it idly as he waited, but at Fenris’ hesitation he stopped and sat up, his hands upon Fenris’ thighs as he stared up at Fenris with concern. “ _Carissimi_?” he asked in a low voice. “Speak to me.”

“No...not gone out of my head yet...sorry, was trying to be a little bad, ser,” Fenris said before getting into the right position for Zevran to watch him. 

“Hmm. Perhaps I should spank you,” replied Zevran in a low and dangerous voice, his eyes glittering. “Perhaps when you wear my handprints on that pretty rump of yours you will obey me more swiftly, hmm?”

Fenris nodded a bit too eagerly as he slipped a third finger inside. “Whatever you say my domne.” He tried to keep a moan in but failed to hide his excitement.

Zevran slid out from beneath Fenris and rose to his feet. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered. 

Fenris complied and hung his head as he tried to hold still. The Antivan knelt beside him and trailed a hand slowly and gently over Fenris’ backside, and then abruptly slapped it, hard. He followed it up with three swift slaps - two to the same buttock and then one to the other before smoothing his hand over the reddening skin. As he did this and Fenris involuntarily jerked, he was deftly coating his other hand in oil; as Fenris stilled under his soothing strokes, he pressed three fingers inside Fenris’ hole and then twisted them in a “come hither” motion that had Fenris keening again, his cock stiff and heavy between his thighs.

Zevran pulled his hand free and slapped the other elf’s arse harder - four sharp blows, the cracks echoing in the bath chamber as Fenris bucked and cried out. Then Zevran’s three fingers thrust in, hard and deep until Fenris was practically seeing stars as the Antivan’s skilled fingers brushed him just _so_ , over and over. When Zevran pulled his hand free, Fenris was practically whimpering and begging for more.

This earned him a swift spanking; five hard slaps on each buttock, the blows overlapping, no space between each for Fenris to draw breath until he was practically howling.

“Domne, domne… please!” Fenris begged as he tried to catch his breath. He dropped his head again as he trembled. “I’ll be a good boy...please.” 

Zevran ran a soothing hand over Fenris’ heated skin, then gently pressed two fingers against Fenris’ hole. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my hand,” he breathed, his other hand moving to his own cock as he began to pump his flesh again slowly.

“Can I suck your cock while I do it?” Fenris asked as he leaned back into Zevran’s fingers and began to ride them.

“No, my eager one,” chuckled Zevran darkly as he pressed a third finger into Fenris between strokes. “You will ride it soon enough, and I do not wish to come too soon. Not until I hear you screaming my name, _carissimi_.”

Fenris curled his fingers into the towel and arched back as he felt Zevran filling him. “Ser...please, I’ll be good for you,” he begged before he arched back, hoping to get the other elf to hit that spot. 

Zevran smiled, and without warning he added a fourth finger, twisting his hand as he did so to hit the sweet spot just as Fenris rocked back, and he had the satisfaction of feeling Fenris buck and then keen as the warrior saw stars for a second.

“Would you like to ride my cock, _carissimi_?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes! Yes, please oh fuck please allow me to ride you domne, please!” Fenris sobbed. 

Zevran smiled. “Let me lay down, and then you may ride me, _carissimi_. But ride hard - this stallion is wild and ready for you!”

Fenris let the line pass, only because he was eager for his husband. “Facing you, or away, ser?” he asked as he drizzled oil over the elf’s cock.

“Facing me,” decided Zevran as he stared up at Fenris. He looked rather flushed, a blush stealing along his ears to the very tips as he gazed up at the other elf.

The warrior settled above the other elf and reached back, eager to get fucked after the teasing. “What does my domne need of me? Fast or slow?” he asked as he sunk down with a filthy moan. 

Zevran let out a gasping moan. “Fast,” he managed to get out as he felt Fenris sinking down onto his cock. “Oh _carissimi_ , you feel so good....”

Fenris grinned as he settled in for a hard and fast ride, mindful, barely of the fact he could hurt his husband if he slammed down too hard. “Fu...fuck. Zev,” he moaned on the downstroke. Zevran groaned and began snapping his hips up to meet each downstroke, panting as he worked to match Fenris’ pace. The hard floor beneath the towel was painful against his back but he ignored it.

Fenris threw his head back as he tried to keep from yelling and startling everyone in the house. He begged quietly as he felt Zevran pushing up, each stroke from the smaller elf edging him closer to orgasm. “Maker..myth...Zev, please...oh…” he whimpered.

Zevran blinked sweat out of his eyes as he stared at the ceiling; he was close, so very close. He could feel heat coiling in his groin, building inexorably.

“ _C-carissimi_ ,” he gasped. “I....” He blinked. “Fuck me. I want to feel you bury your cock in me. I want to feel you come,” he managed to get out between thrusts.

Fenris stopped, confused slightly by the request but he didn’t question it. Instead he grabbed another couple of towels to put under Zevran. He knelt on top of the stack of towels and got the oil. “How can I serve domne?” he asked.

His attention was drawn to the door opening and Vic slipping in to leave a bag by them and padding right back out with a wink and a wave. The warrior elf turned back to his husband, curious about the change.

Zevran pulled his knees up and parted, reaching down to open himself swiftly, scissoring his fingers inside himself to stretch himself. “I need to feel you inside me,” he gasped. “Now, please!”

Fenris oiled himself quickly, using more oil than usual before he entered Zevran. “Did I displease you ser?” he asked as he rested on his elbows over the other elf. 

Zevran was panting; Fenris was well endowed, and the Antivan had not stretched nearly enough in his haste. He was filled, stretched - almost painfully so; but right now he welcomed the burn, he was so close. “No, no my love,” he gasped as he reached a hand up to thread his fingers into Fenris’ hair. “So good, so very good that I cannot bear to lie here unfilled by you. You are so good, my love. Come, fuck me - you have earned it. You are close, no?” He was panting, eyes dark as he stared up at Fenris, a little too close to begging himself. “Move,” he urged Fenris.

He tugged Zevran’s legs around him before he started to move, his eyes closed as he tried not to come as soon as he had stroked a few times. “Domne...do…” he gasped as he felt the smaller elf tighten around him. “Fuck.” 

Zevran cried out as Fenris’ thrusts grew harder, deeper; he was edging closer and closer until finally he came hard, shuddering beneath Fenris as the taller elf continued to pound into him. “C-come for me, _c-c-carissimi_ ,” he managed to gasp.

Fenris slapped the floor as he came instead of the scream he feared would wake the others. Instead he swore under his breath as he fucked Zevran through his own climax, finally slowing down and rolling to his side. He finally opened his eyes and stared at the slighter elf, wondering if they were done. 

Zevran whimpered faintly as he felt Fenris’ cock pulsing deep inside him and a hot warmth; he closed his eyes as Fenris finally pulled out and he gave a very faint keen as he felt himself suddenly empty. He felt hollow, fucked out as he lay there with Fenris’ spend slowly trickling out between his thighs and his chest still heaving for breath as his heart stuttered in his chest.

Fenris got to his knees and leaned over the other elf. “Ser?” he asked, concerned with how slowly Zevran was breathing. 

“Si?” breathed Zevran, his eyes blinking open.

“Have I pleased you domne, was I good for you?” Fenris asked as he brushed the hair out of Zevran’s face and took one of his hands in his. 

“Si ... cosi bene il mio amore,” sighed Zevran as he gazed up into Fenris’ eyes and smiled hazily. “Was... very good,” he added, his Antivan accent thick and heavy.

“Amore, es bien?” Fenris asked as he got more worried over the elf falling back to his own tongue. “Zevran?”

“Mi dispiace,” breathed Zevran. “Ah... I am sorry... you were so good, so very good, my love,” Zevran managed. He laughed breathlessly. “Perhaps... too good?”

“Perhaps, after all I was supposed to be the one riding the stallion, no?” Fenris laughed softly. “You know, I was supposed to be the one getting their brains fucked out tonight,” he teased.

“Ah, my love, I am so sorry!” exclaimed Zevran as he tried to push himself up. “You asked me too, and - ah, my love, I am sorry!”

“You can make it up to me once I get you cleaned up, after all Vic dropped a bag of toys when we were occupied.” Fenris said as he nudged the Antivan down as he rose for a washcloth. He returned to clean off his spouse, quiet as he made sure to get all of his spend cleaned up.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” said Zevran as Fenris cleaned him gently. “Perhaps we should take another bath together?”

 

“If you like, I was thinking you could just wind me up and use one of those toys on me until I’m begging again, but whatever you please Zev.” Fenris left the other elf on the ground as he emptied the tub and waited for it to refill with hot water. “Should I carry you?”

Zevran closed his eyes and smiled. “Yes... but first, go to that bag Invictus so thoughtfully left and select a toy. The largest one you think you could bear.”

The warrior rifled through the bag, and selected the same one that Invictus had foolishly tried to use on Zevran after their travel to Ostagar. He held it up and a fresh bottle of oil in one hand and the marble cock in the other with a devilish grin. 

Zevran slowly rolled onto his side and grinned. “Oh yes, my love,” he nodded. “I have felt how large that one is, _carissimi_. I very much look forward to seeing how you take it....”

Fenris kept smiling as he set the toy and oil to the side and picked up his husband. “Are you still in charge ser, or are we done playing at that tonight?” he asked as he put Zevran in the tub. “If I am still submitting, I shall show the proper deference to my domne.” 

“Do you still wish me to be in charge, _carissimi_?” asked Zevran then groaned hedonistically as he sank into the hot water. “Ohhhh... _carissimi_ , you could do with me as you will right now,” he breathed as he felt his back unkinking and slowly relaxing.

Fenris grinned as he knelt by the tub. “I thought you were still in control ser?” he asked as he eyed the way Zevran stretched. “As long as you don’t make any more horse riding jokes.”

Zevran coloured and then ducked his head underwater, embarrassed. He stayed under until he was forced to the surface due to the burning of his lungs. He gasped for breath then turned to Fenris. “That was not one of my finer moments,” he confessed, mortified.

“It was cute, though a bit silly. Now, will you please fuck me so I forget Trade...ser? After all, you felt so good you slipped back to Antivan.” Fenris grinned at him and leaned in for a quick kiss before he knelt next to the tub.

Zevran drew a deep breath and ducked under the water again before straightening, standing as he reached for the bag. He hunted through until he found a vial filled with a pale green, milky fluid. Eyeing Fenris, he uncorked it, took a deep breath then swiftly drank it down. He swallowed hard, then shuddered as he bent over and braced his hands against the edge of the tub.

When he raised his head, his eyes were almost black, the pupils blown wide and dark, and Fenris could see his cock swelling and stiffening as Zevran’s breath quickened. His eyes fixed on Fenris and slowly he grinned.

“Turn around and bend over, _carissimi_ ,” he whispered as he reached for the marble phallus and the vial of oil.

“Yes domne.” Fenris breathed as he obeyed quickly, using a stool to rest against as he waited for Zevran. 

He heard the quiet pop of the cork being removed from the vial of oil, and then shivered as he felt it hit the skin at the top of his crack. It dribbled down, cool and slick, between his buttocks and over his hole; he felt oiled fingers circle his hole slowly, and then three fingers pushed slowly into him before easing out again.

Zevran began to thrust his fingers in and out of Fenris, starting slowly then speeding up, occasionally grazing his sweet spot inside but never at a rhythm he could predict, until the white-haired elf was practically howling each time Zevran twisted his fingers just right to make stars explode behind his eyes.

And then his fingers withdrew altogether as he felt the Antivan lean over him. Oiled fingers snarled into his hair at the exact same moment that he felt the cool, oiled marble tip of the phallus press against his entrance.

Zevran leaned forward over Fenris’ back as his grip in Fenris’ hair tightened and the marble phallus was pushed steadily into Fenris. The warrior’s eyes widened as he felt himself breached forcefully, the pain of being stretched so wide - even after Zevran had been working him open with his hand - only just this side of bearable.

Zevran yanked hard on Fenris’ hair, forcing the larger elf to arch his back and then sit back upon his heels; as he did so, he felt the base of the marble phallus come to rest upon the soles of his feet - so that as he straightened, the act of sitting upright forced the phallus deeper into his body.

As he panted, open-mouthed, neck straining as he was forced to stare at the ceiling, Zevran wrapped his free hand around Fenris’ chest and pressed himself against his back.

“Tell me, is this what you wanted?” he practically purred, a feral note in his voice. Before Fenris could even think to answer, Zevran sank his teeth into Fenris’ shoulder and bit down - not enough to draw blood, but enough to make pain blossom and guarantee a bruise come morning. 

Fenris howled, and Zevran chuckled. “Perhaps I should gag you; we wouldn’t want to disturb the others, hmm?” he whispered. Fenris panted, his chest heaving.

The warrior couldn’t pull words together so he nodded in agreement, and hissed with each movement making the thick, hard marble shift inside him. He wasn’t sure if he could do anything else besides take what Zevran gave him. His eyes closed for a moment as he tried to keep quiet or ask for a gag.

Zevran pulled away slightly, though he kept one hand snarled in Fenris’ hair as he reached for the bag. He rooted around inside it then pulled out a few objects; by rolling his eyes to the side, Fenris could just make out that Zevran had laid out some red silken rope, a gag - and a large, heavy leather-covered paddle.

The sight of those things made the elf whimper mostly from anticipation. He tried to control his breathing, mostly so he could keep steady with a hand in his hair.

Zevran rose to his feet and circled around to stand in front of Fenris, his hand in Fenris’ ensuring that the warrior could only stare up at him, almost helpless.

“Fenris.” Zevran’s breath came a little fast as he stared down at his husband, his eyes dark with lust. “Tell me the truth. Are you alright with this?” 

The other elf blinked a few times and stared at his husband as he gathered his words. “Yes...domne, I asked for it.” Fenris replied quietly. 

“The rope, the paddle - you will submit to these? The gag?” Zevran stared down at him. “If once you breathe your safeword then I swear I will stop.”

“Yes domne, I trust you.” Fenris gave him a smile as he stared at his love. “May I ask one thing, ser?”

Zevran nodded slowly. “Ask away.”

“May we move to the spare…” Fenris moaned as he felt the shift of the toy as he tried to get comfortable. “Bed..bedroom? For your comfort domne, and it's easier to tie me up.” Fenris said slowly as he watched for the other elf’s reaction.

“I plan to bind your wrists together behind your back,” said Zevran quietly. “And then I shall lay you across my lap and I shall redden that beautiful arse of yours, _mi amore_ , whilst you wear that wonderful marble phallus inside you. I think I can do that as well in here as we could in the bedroom, no?”

“As you say domne, I am yours to do as you will.” Fenris replied with that same smile as he stared up at his husband. 

“Ah, so beautiful in your desire to please me,” Zevran groaned as he cupped Fenris’ cheek with his free hand, his eyes briefly fluttering closed before he opened them to gaze down at Fenris.

The Tevinter elf opened his mouth and took the other elf’s cock in his mouth to suck him down. He glanced up to see if he had overstepped in pleasuring Zevran.

The Antivan’s eyes widened and his lips parted as he panted, and then he gave a long, low moan as he let his head drop back, pushing his groin forward as he began slowly, leisurely fucking Fenris’ mouth. Fenris could feel a shudder of pleasure roll through the other elf. “ _Carissimiiiiii...._ ” moaned Zevran. 

Fenris couldn’t pull back if he wanted since Zevran still had his hair held tight. He moaned as he let Zevran slip out for a moment but kept sucking. He looked up and if he could have grinned he would have at the expression on the Antivan’s face. Zevran was panting harder now, and as he lowered his head to stare down at Fenris his eyes were slightly glazed.

“S-so good....” whispered Zevran, his voice stuttering as he panted, and then he groaned before he pulled away. “No more! I do not wish to come yet....”

He was breathing hard as he circled behind Fenris. He released the soft white hair then pulled the warrior’s hands behind his back and swiftly bound Fenris’ wrists before picking up the paddle.

“Now, _carissimi_ , let us have you up and across my lap,” he said, a little breathless.

He helped Fenris to get to his feet, pressing one hand to the base of the phallus to prevent it sliding out as Fenris rose; and then he sat upon the stool and guided him down to lie across his lap. Fenris couldn’t repress a gasp as his cock brushed Zevran’s.

And then the paddle came whistling down upon his arse and he yelled.

“FUCK!” Fenris shouted then caught himself when he heard the echo in their bath. “A..apol..apologies domne!” 

Zevran chuckled breathlessly but said nothing; a moment later, Fenris heard the whistle of the paddle through the air and had a split second in which to tense before it hit the same buttock again. He twitched and jerked in Zevran’s lap but managed not to yell this time, distracted by the sensation of his cock gliding against that of Zevran; he was growing hard himself now.

The paddle came down swiftly, four sharp smacks that echoed around the chamber, alternating first on one cheek and then the other - and then the fifth blow hit the base of the phallus, thrusting it into his body, and he couldn’t hold back another howl as he saw stars again.

That last slap of the paddle made tears fall and caused the bigger elf to sob and plead for more, or for it to stop, anything if Zevran would let him find release. “I’ll do… anything...just please, please...domne...ser… Zevran, oh fuck.” Fenris sagged against his bonds as he whimpered.

Zevran laughed. “ _Carissimi_ , would you like to use your safe word? Or would you like me to gag you? I warn you, if you choose the gag then I intend to beat you mercilessly for thirty strokes. And many will strike the phallus, but there will be no pattern and you will not be able to predict when next you will feel it thrust within you. So! Which is it to be? An end now, or the gag?” He patted Fenris’ red and sore arse; Fenris only barely managed to choke back a sob as his sensitive skin stung and smarted. “If you use your word, I will untie you and remove that large phallus that is tormenting you so; and if you ask very nicely I may fuck you for a while. Hmm? But I promise you will come so much harder if you withstand my paddle, and you will find that place you so long for where you no longer think.”

“Gag me domne.” Fenris got out as he tried to force himself to relax and not tense in anticipation of the blows. 

Zevran laid the paddle down for the moment then casually slapped Fenris’ arse with his hand as he reached for the gag with the other hand. He held the gag to Fenris’ mouth; when the warrior opened his mouth, Zevran swiftly gagged him, buckling the leather strap firmly behind his head.

“So! And now we begin,” announced Zevran as he reached for the paddle once more.

Fenris lay across Zevran’s lap and waited, but the blow did not fall. He blinked, wondering when Zevran would begin.

Just when he was beginning to feel restless, he started to turn his head - just as the paddle whistled down and struck him hard on the left buttock, and he jerked, his yell muffled by the gag.

The blows followed swiftly, overlapping; there was no pattern to them that he could guess at or predict, so that every time a blow hit the base of the phallus and it thrust up into him, he was caught unawares and every one wrested a strangled scream from him, his cock twitching and jerking against Zevran’s member as his arousal grew and tears rolled unheeded down his cheeks.

He lost count, and then he became unable to count, feeling only the burn of his inflamed skin and found himself yearning for each moment when the phallus thrust deep into him and he saw stars.

It took him some time to realise the blows had stopped, but not the thrusting of the phallus; it was being twisted inside him now, pumping in and out of his body. When Zevran pulled it out altogether, he gave a pitious moan of protest, muffled by the gag.

“Shhh, shhh, my lovely one,” panted Zevran. “Kneel up for me a moment.”

Fenris felt thick towels beneath his knees as Zevran lowered him from his lap; as he straightened, he saw that Zevran was flushed, a wanton look in his eyes as the Antivan rose. His cock was straining, stiff and dripping, as the Antivan laid a hand upon Fenris’ shoulder for a moment and fought to slow his breathing. 

Then he circled round behind Fenris and pushed him forward so that he was bent over the stool. Zevran caressed his sore rear, and then in one hard, almost savage thrust he shoved himself inside Fenris to the hilt and began to pound into him, setting an almost painfully hard and fast pace. One hand reached up and fumbled with the buckle behind Fenris’ head clumsily, and then the gag fell from Fenris’ mouth.

The moment the gag was out, Fenris starting swearing with each hard thrust into him, eventually cussing Zevran’s lineage back to the Dalish and maybe Arlathan. He felt tears falling as he was fucked relentlessly until his head was jerked back and his eyes snapped open to see them in the tall mirror. He couldn’t look away from how he was getting taken. 

“Zev...domne...master...fuck.” he gasped as he caught the other elf’s gaze in the mirror. “Break me.” he begged as a hard thrust made him rest on his toes suddenly.

Zevran’s hair was in wild disarray, his eyes glazed, his lips parted as he panted raggedly and continued to pound mercilessly into Fenris. As the warrior locked gazes with the Antivan in the mirror, Zevran abruptly leaned forward. Fenris caught a brief sight of the flash of Zevran’s white teeth a moment before the smaller elf sank them hard into his shoulder, next to the earlier bite, with a savage growl.

Fenris grinned at the feel of the other elf’s teeth in his shoulder, his own fangs showing his loss of control. “Harder...bite...harder, please domne.” he moaned even as he arched his neck to let Zevran do as he wanted. He clamped down on a scream as the other elf obliged him, and he felt skin break and blood trickled down his shoulder.

“Going...to come, please maestro, please.” he begged. 

Zevran reached one hand up to curl it about Fenris’ throat before he began to move even faster; his other hand snaked down, around their bodies to curl about Fenris’ neglected and weeping cock. He snarled savagely as he sank his teeth into Fenris’ shoulder once more and began to pump his fist around Fenris’ cock.

“Zevran… Zev… oh Maker… I can’t!” Fenris sobbed as he came without permission, or much more than the hard and fast strokes from Zevran. “Domne...I’m sorry...I’m sorry!” he babbled as he rode out his orgasm with loud swears mixed with apologies and Zevran’s name before he sagged as much as he could with the other elf holding his throat and squeezing.

Zevran’s breath was coming now in hard, fast, ragged gasps as he thrust mindlessly into Fenris with no signs of slowing. His eyes were glazed and seemed to stare through Fenris as the white-haired elf watched in the mirror, helpless. The Antivan seemed like a wild thing, possessed, his teeth bared and a low, savage grunting and the ragged gasping the only sounds that came from him. Sweat was trickling down his tawny skin across his chest, and plastered stray strands of hair to his face.

Fenris whimpered as he saw the look on Zevran’s face and felt the relentless pace he was keeping up. Finally he screamed “Malum” at a hard thrust that nearly pulled them off the stool. “Malum...please stop Zev, please.” 

Zevran’s eyes widened in sudden shock and he pulled out, staggering back and away from Fenris. He stood there, his body trembling as he panted hoarsely, blinking; slowly his eyes focused on Fenris, and he ran a shaking hand through his dishevelled hair before stumbling back over to the bound elf.

“ _C-carissimi_ ,” he panted. “Wait - ah....” He was fumbling with the knots at Fenris’ wrists, and then Fenris’ hands were freed. “S-s-sorry,” he rasped hoarsely, then doubled over, shuddering, for a moment.

As Fenris stood up, the door opened to show a very concerned looking Invictus. “Maker, I tried to ignore you but that scream, Fen what happened? Are you both ok?” Vic said as he approached them.

“Sort...of. Zev needs help, he ...couldn’t stop until I used my word.” Fenris said as he stared at the other elf warily. “He still hasn’t…” he made a rude gesture as he fumbled with getting the rope off him.

Zevran half-straightened; his gaze was still glazed and feverish as he glanced at Fenris. “Did.... did I hurt you?” he panted. “Didn’t... didn’t mean....” He bit his lip as he shivered.

“Not...ok a little bit, but not more than I’d asked for. Let Vic take care of you while I clean up, then I’m going to fall over for a few hours.” Fenris said shakily as he limped to the basin. 

Zevran tried to rise but fell back onto the towels, one hand going to his stiff and aching cock, the other threading distractedly into his hair as his chest heaved. “Vic....” he moaned.

Invictus got a soapy flannel to clean Zevran off before taking him in hand. He oiled his hand and stroked hard and fast while he held his other elven husband to him. “Come on love, give it up for me.”

Zevran writhed beneath Invictus’ hand, and now it was he who was pleading and sobbing. “Ah! Ah, please - fuck - someone fuck me!” he begged. “Damn me - please!”

“For Maker’s sake.. This isn’t how I usually like to hear you beg. Get on your back.” Vic said before stripping off his sleep pants and opening up his lover with a bit more oil. He held Zevran’s legs around his waist as he slid in, eager to help the elf. “What’s got him like this?” he asked as Fenris made his way over.

“Potion...never want to take it.” Fenris said as he watched the wanton way Zevran arched under Vic continuing to beg. “Not sure where we even got it from in the first place.”

“Val Royeaux,” said Invictus tersely as he thrust rhythmically into Zevran’s writhing body; the Antivan was sobbing as he clutched at his hair. “The wyvern hunt. Little shop near the harbour.” He gritted his teeth as his movements sped up slightly. “Asked for something to help keep up with Anders’ Warden stamina.... two doses in the vial.... never used it....”

Fenris’ eyes widened in horror. “Zevran took the whole thing!”

“Oh fuck me,” groaned Invictus. “You’re kidding??”

"I wish I was," Fenris said tiredly as he gently tried to sit but thought better of it.

"He's going to regret that." Vic huffed as he continued to try and fuck Zevran quiet. He sighed but manfully sped up, leaning forward to curl a hand around Zevran’s cock. He began to fist it in time with his thrusts; mindlessly, Zevran thrust his hips up to meet Invictus’ fist then back to meet his cock, panting encouragement to the former Champion.

The main door to the bathroom opened unexpectedly; Fenris glanced up as his heart sank, suddenly realising they’d failed to lock the door earlier.

Hal had his gaze focused on his hands as he pulled at the sash of his robes, glancing up only as he slipped them off, then froze as he took in the tableau before him. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as Zevran shuddered and keened beneath Invictus.

“More! Damn you, more - harder, I need - I need....” Zevran’s voice trailed off into a keening sob.

“Oh Maker,” breathed Hal. “I - I’m sorry, I didn’t....” He seemed almost frozen to the spot, unable to pull his eyes away, his hands still upon his robe as it gaped open.

"It's ok, we probably need your help," Vic panted.

Fenris felt himself flushing to the tips of his ears as he saw Hal. "Uh... hi."

Hal blinked, and his hands dropped; the robe pooled at his feet. “My... my help?” He seemed stunned. His eyes went from Fenris, taking in the way the elf was hovering beside Invictus, lifted up on his knees in a pose that surely couldn’t be comfortable, to Invictus who continued to thrust even as he attempted to grin self-consciously at Hal; to Zevran, who was oblivious to Hal’s presence and begging for Invictus to take him harder and faster.

Hal blinked again. “What did he take?” he asked in a calm voice, keeping his eyes on Invictus.

"Stamina potion, double dose. He's in great need," Fenris said as he knelt by Zevran’s head.

Hal turned and stared at Fenris, and then he rolled his eyes and groaned. “Not from a certain little shop in Val Royeaux perchance?” he sighed.

“Yes, but how -” began Fenris, surprised. Hal kicked his robes aside and swiftly began to unlace his pants as he made his way over towards them.

“Arden bought that self-same potion after he was done wyvern-hunting with Tallis,” he replied. “Pale green, opaque?” As Fenris nodded, Hal sighed. “Yes, same one. My Fenris decided to try it one night, except he didn’t realise there were two doses and took the lot.” He sat down and started unlacing his boots then kicked them off. He glanced up at Invictus. “At least I won’t have too much explaining to do to Arden later.” He started to slip his pants off.

"Goddess, the other me could be just as stupid as I am," Fenris quipped as he went to lock the door. He hissed as he forgot and sat down. "I'm going to beat his ass when I can sit again."

"No...you won't." Vic huffed. "You get some salve out and take care of your own ass."

Hal leaned over and pressed a hand gently against Fenris’ raw backside and let healing magic flow soothingly to take away the worst of the pain, then rose to his feet. “I don’t think we can afford for me to take the time to prepare myself properly,” he said as he bit his lip; he reached back and began working two fingers into himself. He swallowed hard, then they felt him draw upon more magic as he channelled it into himself. His breath came a little faster and his cock stirred slightly.

He swung a leg across so he stood straddling Zevran, then brushed Invictus’ arm away before lowering himself down until he was kneeling astride the writhing Antivan, facing Invictus. He swallowed hard then reached back and impaled himself slowly on Zevran’s cock. 

“Hal, no, you’re not ready!” exclaimed Fenris as he reached for the redhead; Hal shook him off as he gasped, then closed his eyes. Then he let out a small cry as Zevran bucked his hips up, thrusting his cock hard into the young mage’s body before pushing back into Invictus’ next thrust.

“Hal!” exclaimed Invictus.

Hal opened his eyes and gave the older mage a reassuring grin. “I’m OK!” he said hastily. “I-” he broke off with another shuddering gasp as Zevran moved faster beneath him. The Antivan reached up to grip Hal’s hips, and then suddenly he pulled off Invictus as he swung Hal around to sprawl upon hands and knees beneath him before starting to pound into Hal’s body in real earnest, Hal crying out upon every thrust.

“Hal!” cried Invictus and Fenris almost simultaneously. 

“I’m - I’m OK -” Hal managed to stutter out, then keened as Zevran sank his teeth into his shoulder. “Maker! Vic - please - you have to -”

Invictus realised straight away what Hal was trying to tell him, and quickly shuffled forward to ram himself into Zevran once more. The Antivan let out a glad cry.

“Ah, ah yes, yes!” he exclaimed, panting, and he began to rock in place - first back into Invictus’ next thrust, then forwards to slam into Hal, who shuddered with each thrust and gave small, panting cries.

“Hal... let me help you,” said Fenris as he reached for the red-haired mage’s hands. Hal lifted his head as Fenris leaned forward and their lips met in a clumsy kiss. Hal panted a low keen into Fenris’ mouth before pulling away for breath; Fenris released his hands and instead threaded them into Hal’s hair, murmuring into his ear soft praises for how well he was doing.

Invictus could tell from the way Zevran’s movements were becoming erratic and jerky that the Antivan was close to climax and redoubled his efforts, slamming into the elf as hard and fast as he could. Each thrust he made was driving Zevran hard and rough into Hal, who closed his eyes and moaned.

Zevran came with a scream, and Hal whimpered as he felt the elf come deep inside him; Invictus gave Zevran a few more thrusts then came himself with a hoarse shout before his movements slowed. He pulled out, and Zevran bonelessly collapsed forward onto Hal.

Panting, Invictus reached forward and pulled Zevran back into his arms and out of Hal, who fell forward into Fenris’ arms. Gently, Fenris turned Hal around until the mage was resting against Fenris’ chest as the elf took hold of Hal’s cock; the mage curled his own hand around that of Fenris and moaned breathily until with a shudder he came over their hands before falling back against Fenris, panting.

Zevran was doing much the same in Invictus’ arms, his cock at last softening between his legs.

“I... I am... I am sorry,” Zevran panted. “Hal... Hal, I never meant to use you so, I-”

“It’s alright, Zevran,” gasped Hal. “You didn’t even know what you were doing.” He managed to smile. “I even... even enjoyed it. Haven’t... haven’t been fucked like that in a while.”

“Hal, you’re bleeding,” said Fenris quietly.

“Oh?” murmured Hal, then glanced at the thin trickle of blood that ran down his chest. “Oh... so I am.” He giggled breathlessly. 

“Vic... thank you,” sighed Zevran. “I was... was so foolish....”

“Yes, you were,” agreed Vic. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

“The bathwater should still be hot,” suggested Fenris.

Invictus managed to get himself and Zevran into the water as Fenris helped Hal into the bath before sliding in behind him.

“Hal, are you sure Arden will be OK with what just happened?” asked Invictus with a frown. Hal nodded.

“As I said, something like this happened once before, whilst Anders was busy late at the clinic. Fenris took the potion, expecting Anders to be back any moment; by the time we realised he was going to be late, Fenris was in one hell of a state - much as Zevran was. Arden and I had to, er, deal with the matter between us.” He grinned ruefully at the memory. “Arden was limping for days afterwards, but he said it was worth it.” His expression sobered. “But will your Anders be alright with this? Me being fucked by Zevran, I mean?”

Fenris was quiet as he dabbed at the younger mage’s shoulder before starting to bathe him. He was thinking, probably overthinking how the night had gone for them. 

Hal hummed softly in appreciation as he relaxed under Fenris’ ministrations. “This isn’t what I expected when I came in for a bath,” he said quietly, then chuckled.

“Hal, are you sure Zev didn’t hurt you? You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself,” said Invictus, worried. 

Hal shrugged. “Healing magic - I relaxed the muscles so I wouldn’t tear, and a grease spell so I wouldn’t need oil. But I appreciate your concern.” He smiled reassuringly.

“As long as you’re sure, I was worried.” Vic said as he glanced over the red heads shoulder at Fenris. 

“And you, we’re going to talk once we’ve all had some sleep.” Vic said with no room for argument.

“Yes...ser.” Fenris replied quietly.

“I’m not going to ask,” said Hal. He was silent for a while, then quietly said, “I... I think I actually rather needed that. I hope Anders will understand and... and that this isn’t going to cause trouble with him.” He glanced up to Invictus. “Arden... well, he... he isn’t comfortable taking the lead. And since Anders came back - and what with the whole Mythal thing....” He sighed. “He... just isn’t interested, I think. He’s more and more Mythal, less and less Anders. It’s... like a male version of Flemeth, and it’s confusing and frustrating.”

“We’ll explain if he’s not ok with this, I asked for Zevran to get rough its my fault.” Fenris said as he tipped Hal’s head forward to continue washing him off.

“Nope, you are not going to take the blame on this. We can talk now in the other room if you are going to start blaming yourself for asking for what you want.” Vic used his teacher voice, especially since he knew Fenris wouldn’t cower from him.

“No,” said Zevran quietly as he bowed his head. “If the blame is anyone’s, then it is mine.”

Hal lifted his head. “Anders and Arden are both asleep. I’m involved here as much as Zevran and Fenris. Talk it out here, please. I don’t want to leave this room until this is resolved.” He looked at Invictus and added gently, “Please?”

“As soon as Zevran stops blaming himself, I will be at ease. It was an honest mistake to make.” Fenris said before he caught Invictus’ glare at him.

“As long as you do the same, then we can sleep and talk more tomorrow. You couldn’t even sit down and I daresay Zevran would be the same if not for Hal. It's ok, you needed it rough, you heard him, his Fenris did the same stupid thing and they got over it.” Vic said as he felt Zevran pulling his arms around himself. 

Hal stared down into the water, then glanced up at Invictus. “I... would not be adverse to... to doing this again. With Zevran not under the influence of any potion.” He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable as he felt himself blushing. He dropped his gaze back to the water.

“I did not stop to think,” said Zevran. “I saw the potion vial there and assumed it was something that would enhance things.” He laughed suddenly. “I, who perhaps know more of poisons than any living man, and I drank it without thinking.”

“I am glad it did no lasting harm Zevran. If you all don’t mind, I want to get dried off and finally go to sleep, I’m sore and exhausted.” Fenris said as he leaned back to rinse out the flannel he’d used. 

Hal felt his face flaming even more. None of them had responded to his comment. He closed his eyes. _Fool,_ he thought. _They’re not interested. You’ve only embarrassed yourself._ He cleared his throat, not looking around. “I can heal you, if you want,” he said in a small voice.

Zevran sat up and stared at Hal. “Hal?” he said quietly. “What is wrong?”

Hal cringed. “Nothing, I... nothing.”

“Hal you will never be a good liar.” Vic said tiredly as he glanced at the redhead. “Yes, if they are fine with it you can play with Fen and Zevran if you want. I know that need and I’m fine with it, you already have leave to be with Fenris.” 

Fenris’ head snapped up to stare at Vic but he said nothing,he really had hit his limit and wanted nothing more than to sink into bed, on his stomach and sleep for days. 

Hal lifted his head and stared at Invictus, naked want on his face, for the moment betraying his vulnerability. “You - you mean that?” He blinked, and then continued in a quieter voice. “And... you?”

“I don’t make a habit of false offerings Hal, well not since I left Kirkwall. Like I said it’s up to the others but I am fine with it.” Vic shrugged and stared back at his husband before asking Zevran what he thought.

Zevran smiled. “Me, I would like to watch you bend this beautiful man over and fuck his brains out, my love,” he grinned as he held Hal’s gaze and had the satisfaction of seeing Hal’s breath quicken. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Hal let out a soft moan, then glanced to Invictus before glancing over his shoulder at Fenris. “I....” He gulped. “P-please?”

Zevran moved forward in the water and reached out a hand to grasp a handful of wet, red hair before yanking hard to draw Hal’s attention. “We have already told you that we want you.”

Hal gasped and stared into Zevran’s eyes. His throat worked as he swallowed and felt his cock twitching with interest in response.

Zevran smiled as he noticed how Hal’s eyes had darkened. “You want this so much,” he said softly. “If I said I want to fuck you right now, would you give yourself to me? How far would you go?”

Hal’s response was a moan as he moved to kneel in front of Zevran.

“I... oh Maker,” he finally managed to gasp out. “I want that so much. Do what you like to me. I’ll suck your cock - Fenris’ cock, Invictus’ cock. You can all fuck me. I...” He whimpered as he reached for Zevran’s cock. “Please,” he whispered. “Look - I can make you come again. Invigorate - you can _all_ come again.”

Zevran glanced up at Fenris, who was leaning forward, his eyes darkening. The Antivan glanced over his shoulder at Invictus.

“Maker, I... I kind of want to take him up on that,” said Invictus in a tone of surprise. “Maker, that’s... kind of hot.”

“Sit on the side of the bath, my love,” suggested Zevran, then grinned as Invictus hastily pulled himself out of the water and spread his legs, his cock already half-hard. Zevran pushed Hal towards the former Champion, and Hal went willingly, kneeling on hands and feet between Invictus’ legs. He felt Invictus grab his head that force him down towards his waiting cock, and Hal opened his mouth willingly and relaxed his throat so Invictus could thrust his cock right into him to the base.

Invictus’ hips snapped forward, and Hal closed his eyes and moaned encouragement as the other mage began to fuck his throat. Behind him he felt Fenris touch his hip then press two fingers inside him; he canted his hips, inviting the elf to press deeper.

Fenris’ breath quickened as he steadily pressed three fingers into Hal’s body, then twisted and brushed them inside Hal’s body and the redhead shuddered then keened around Invictus’ cock.

“Oh... _fuck_ ,” breathed Invictus. “Feels so good.” He stared down at Hal as the other mage’s head bobbed, working Invictus’ member with his tongue and swallowing around it. “Hal... wanna fuck your throat. Can... can I take you?”

Hal moaned encouragingly, and Invictus began to fuck his throat, faster, moaning as he felt Hal swallowing around it.

Fenris thrust three fingers into Hal, then four. “Hal... I want to fist you,” he breathed. 

Hal pulled away just far enough to gasp a breath. “Do it,” he begged. “Stretch me. Fuck me hard.” Then he pressed forward so Invictus’ cock could slide into his throat once more.

Fenris tucked his thumb into his palm the grasped Hal’s hip firmly with his free hand as he slowly and steadily forced his whole hand into the slender man. Hal keened softly and shuddered as Fenris’ hand breached his ring of muscle, then bore down on the intrusion.

“ _Venhedis_ , that’s it,” breathed Fenris as he began to pump his hand in and out of Hal’s stretched hole. “Fuck, I’m going to fuck you so hard, Hal,” he vowed.

Zevran had oiled his cock and now he pressed up against Fenris. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he breathed. “Can I take you again?”

“Do it,” said Fenris, thoroughly aroused by Hal’s reaction as he steadily fisted the mage and Invictus fucked Hal’s throat.

“Fuck... so close,” gasped Invictus as he clutched at Hal’s hair and his hips snapped faster.

Zevran slid into Fenris and rocked slowly until he felt Fenris pushing back against him. He set up a steady rhythm to match the thrusts of Fenris’ hand inside Hal. “ _Carissimi_ , he takes you so well,” breathed the Antivan.

“Fuck... Zev... harder,” begged Fenris, and Zevran obliged. 

Invictus suddenly came with a shout, and Hal worked to swallow swiftly before he could choke on Invictus’ spend. Hal lifted himself up, and Invictus caught him beneath the arms to drag him forward. Fenris pulled his hand free then moved forward to ram his cock into Hal’s arse. The redhead arched his back and cried out, then gasped little panting moans as Fenris began to fuck him hard. Behind Fenris, Zevran thrust into the other elf, the force of his thrusts adding to those of Fenris as he pounded into Hal’s body.

Hal stared up into Invictus’ eyes as the other mage grinned then lifted a hand to wrap it around Hal’s throat. “Going to choke you,” panted Invictus. “You’re going to feel so good.”

Hal’s eyes widened as Invictus began to strangle him slowly. His body fought for breath that wouldn’t come; he felt lightheaded, and he felt heat coiling in his groin. It was more intense than he’d ever felt.

Then Fenris shifted the angle at which he thrust into Hal, and every stroke was hitting his sweet spot. He came, hard, trying to scream but no sound emerged as Invictus squeezed tighter until black stars were bursting before his eyes.

Suddenly he could breathe, great gasps of air as Invictus held him close. “It’s OK, I’ve got you,” soothed the older mage, and Hal relaxed into his arms as he felt Fenris’ cock pulse then the hot wetness as Fenris came with a hoarse shout deep inside him; Zevran following soon after.

“Thank you... oh thank you,” breathed Hal as he felt Fenris slipping his softening cock out of him and the elf’s spend run down his thighs.

Hal curled into Invictus’ strong embrace and closed his eyes. He felt replete and at peace in a way he hadn’t in so long.

Arms were around him; Invictus, Fenris; Zevran stroking his hair. 

“We’ve got you,” murmured Invictus.

And Hal felt safe.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we're not done as we thought! More shenanigans going on with our crew. A pleasant diversion has repercussions, and no one comes out unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Violence, abuse

The following morning, Fenris was the first one up. He made coffee and put together a hasty breakfast of leftovers from the previous day; once done, he rinsed out his cup and then fetched his sword before heading out to the sparring ring to practice alone.

When Invictus and Zevran finally emerged from their bedroom, Hal was up and making breakfast in the kitchen with Pin and Garrett. He greeted them with a smile; Invictus couldn’t help grinning back in turn. He’d had some very pleasant dreams involving a certain redhead, and he’d woken up hard and rutting against Anders’ backside. Anders had been drowsily moaning, more than half asleep; in the end he’d left Anders to go back to sleep and gone off to the bathroom to take care of his erection, indulging himself in a pleasant fantasy involving Hal on his knees in front of him and his willing mouth.

From the flushed look on Zevran’s face when he returned to the bedroom in search of clothes, he guessed the elf had had similar dreams occasioned by the previous evening. He and Zevran had exchanged grins as the Antivan made his way to the bathroom.

Now Zevran and Invictus were sitting in the large kitchen, enjoying mugs of good strong coffee as Garrett slid plates piled high with bacon, sausage, hash browns, mushrooms and eggs in front of them. After last night’s exertions, they had hearty appetites.

Hal excused himself to take a plate to Arden, who had not yet risen; Zevran, who had cleared his plate also, rose to do likewise for Anders. When Hal returned a little while later, Invictus poured him another cup of coffee; Hal nodded his thanks as he sat down at the table.

“What’s up?” asked Invictus as he poured himself another cup of coffee, noting the pensive look on Hal’s face.

“I’m worried about Arden,” he said quietly before taking a sip of his coffee. “He’s very withdrawn and barely speaking. I think what happened with Sebastian - and his feelings afterwards - have shaken him up badly. Sebastian’s dead, and now he doesn’t know how to move on.”

“I’ll get Fenris to talk to him later,” promised Invictus. “When do you two have to go back to Cumberland?”

“In a week,” replied Hal. “There’s a conclave then; Meneris offered to let the mage’s tower in Skyhold be the new Grand Enchanter’s seat, back when Anders held that title, and the offer still stands - I think Meneris is finding Skyhold rather empty and far too full of memories these days, and in any case it takes a lot of resources to maintain a fortress the size of Skyhold without an organisation such as the Inquisition, or a ruling power. If the College is guided from Skyhold, that would take care of the problem - but it has to go to a vote of the First Enchanters at Cumberland first.”

“Will the First Enchanters agree, do you think?” asked Garrett. Hal shrugged.

“I know Cumberland won’t; they like the prestige that comes with being effectively the ruling College. They’ve always been too tied to Chantry ways; they were one of the Circles who argued hardest for keeping the Circle system - which is another good reason to break with tradition and move the centre of power to Skyhold.”

“I thought the Colleges were autonomous?” asked Zevran as he returned in time to hear Hal’s words; he had his arm around Anders, who was dressed in a simple blue tunic of Anderfels style over a white linen shirt, his left arm in a sling. His hair was loose and tumbled down around his shoulders and down his back, and Invictus smiled fondly as he glanced up at his husband then moved to help him sit down at the table before fetching him a cup of coffee. 

“They are,” Anders answered, giving Invictus a smile of thanks for the coffee. “But there still has to be some form of governance and oversight; certain matters of policy have to be centrally decided and voted on by the Conclave, who gather wherever the Grand Enchanter is based. I can understand Arden wanting to move to Skyhold; we need to shake ourselves out of the old Circle ways and emphasise that the Colleges are a _new_ way, and not merely the perpetuation of the old system minus the templars. But he can’t do that without the support of the Conclave.”

Hal nodded. “And with just a week until that Conclave, this is a really bad time for Arden to be incapacitated,” he sighed.

Anders blinked. “What’s wrong with Arden?” he asked.

“Much the same as Fenris after he killed Danarius,” sighed Invictus. 

“Arden stood beside Fenris as Fenris ripped Sebastian’s heart out,” explained Hal. “You were unconscious at the time. I think Arden had hoped that with Sebastian’s death, he would feel a sense of healing, of closure and moving on from what he’d suffered at Sebastian’s hands. But it’s not that simple, and he’s... not taking it well.”

“Would it help if I spoke to him?” asked Anders quietly, just as the door opened and Fenris entered, hot and sweaty after his sparring session.

“No need,” the white-haired warrior replied. “I shall speak to him after I have bathed. I know only too well what he must be feeling now. I, too, thought I would feel somehow different after Danarius’ death.”

Hal rose to his feet to pour Fenris a cup of coffee; the elf smiled his thanks and leaned down to kiss Hal gently before taking it. “Are you well, after... last night?” he whispered softly to the redhead. Hal nodded.

“Never better,” he whispered back. “And you?”

Fenris grinned wickedly. “I had such dreams... and I cannot wait to bring them to life with you,” he growled softly in Hal’s ear. The mage shivered in delight.

Invictus cleared his throat loudly, then inclined his head slightly towards Anders, who had glanced up from his coffee to regard Hal and Fenris in some confusion. Hal felt heat rising to his cheeks.

“Did something happen last night whilst I slept?” Anders asked.

Garrett leapt up to his feet. “Marian, Pin, I think it’s time we went out to practice,” he said hurriedly, turning a little red. “Wynne, why don’t you come with us? I want you to show me your biggest and best fireball!”

Ellowynne jumped up. “OK, Gar!” she grinned. She turned to her father and kissed his cheek. “Bye Daddy - got to practice!”

“Alright, love,” said Anders, bewildered slightly as the three teens hurried outside with Wynne in tow, leaving him alone with Fenris, Hal, Zevran and Invictus. He turned back to Fenris and Hal. “What’s going on?”

Hal came and sat down at the table directly opposite Anders and bowed his head for a moment before looking up at Anders.

“Last night, Zevran took a potion that Invictus had bought a long time ago in Val Royeaux. It was supposed to be an augmented stamina potion - to give the imbiber the same stamina as a Warden.”

Anders glanced at Invictus who grinned and shrugged. Anders turned back to Hal and gestured to him to continue.

“The vial contained two doses of the potion,” Hal went on; Anders’ eyes widened and then he groaned, mentally connecting the dots just before Hal went on, “And... Zevran took both doses.”

Anders turned to Zevran, who shrugged apologetically. “I did not know it contained two doses when I took it,” he replied.

Anders turned back to Hal. “So... what happened? And... why are Fenris and Invictus blushing and grinning?”

Hal felt his own face growing redder. “Um... Fenris and Invictus were... having difficulties... er....”

“I was too far gone in a state of arousal, and I had already taken Fenris most vigorously,” stated Zevran; of them all, he seemed the most unfazed. “So Hal offered to assist.”

Anders blinked, then turned to look at Hal who had bowed his head, afraid to see Anders’ reaction.

“We didn’t want to disturb your rest, love, and it was... pretty urgent,” said Invictus. 

“I see,” said Anders. He lifted his mug and sipped coffee slowly as he regarded Hal thoughtfully. 

As the silence stretched out, Fenris shifted uncomfortably. “Are... you OK with this?” he asked hesitantly.

Anders lowered his mug and glanced at him. He was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess? I mean, you couldn’t leave Zev in that state really, so... Hal was acting as a healer in that respect, I guess?”

Hal squirmed in his seat, and Anders glanced at him then frowned slightly. “There’s more to this than that, isn’t there?”

Hal nodded, unhappily. Anders’ frown deepened. “I think perhaps you should tell me what’s going on.”

“I... I told them that... that I was not averse to... to repeating the experience,” he said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. “With - with all three of them.”

“But without the influence of a potion,” added Zevran.

Anders sat back. “I... see,” he said thoughtfully, then waited.

“We... also are not averse,” said Fenris slowly, studying Anders’ face for his reaction. “And we....” He glanced to the others.

“You... took him up on it,” said Anders. He said it in that same thoughtful tone of voice, a statement rather than a question.

Hal dared a brief glance at him then nodded his head, lowering his gaze again. “I’m... sorry; I know we should have asked your permission first....” he began.

“Yes. You should,” replied Anders quietly. His face was curiously blank, giving nothing away; Fenris, Invictus and Zevran exchanged worried glances.

When Anders didn’t say anything further, Fenris leaned forward to take his hand. “Please talk to us, if you’re angry ...you can take it out on me. Please say something.” 

Invictus watched them, occasionally throwing a glance to Zevran. 

Anders straightened, pulling back his hand before he got to his feet and turned away, pacing slowly. “The first time... you say Zevran needed help because of the potion. That... that I can understand. But... the second time....”

He turned and stared at them all. “You... left me to sleep. You left Arden to sleep. And you just....” His voice had slowly shifted from the flat tone to one of bewilderment. “Why couldn’t you just....”

Fenris was the first to crack, and beg Anders for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t asked Zevran to take me out of my head last night. Please love, forgive me.” 

Anders stared at him, then dropped his gaze to the ground. “I’m not angry with you. I’m not angry with any of you, I’m just... hurt.” He glanced up at Hal, who was staring at him with a stricken expression. Anders bit his lip, then tried to smile. “I’m not saying you can’t. I only wish you’d all just _asked_ me first. I would have said yes.” He turned back towards Fenris. “I would have said _yes!_ ” he cried, before dropping his head to his hand and drawing a shuddering breath.

The elven warrior went to him and hugged him, apologizing repeatedly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… please be upset with me, its my fault!” 

Invictus approached, looking just as pitiful as Fenris. “You were deeply asleep love, I’m so sorry. Please forgive all of us.”

Anders flung his good arm around Fenris’ neck and buried his face against the elf’s shoulder, struggling to control his breathing and not give in to the flood of tears that were threatening. After a moment, he blindly reached his hand towards Invictus.

Zevran rose from his place at the table and stood there for a moment, glancing from Hal to Anders.

“This... this is my fault,” he said bleakly. “I should not have taken that potion. I am a damnable fool, and now I have hurt you, my heart.”

“If I hadn’t asked you wouldn’t have taken it.” Fenris said blearily. “Whatever you want to do to me, you can have it. Anything.”

Anders pulled away from him slightly, enough to raise his head and stare up at Fenris. “I’m not going to punish you, Fen! Don’t say such things! Just - why couldn’t you have _waited_?” He looked to Invictus. “Any of you? Could you not have waited a few hours to ask me? Or woken me?”

“I...wasn’t in my ...I asked Zevran to take me out of my head, I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry, I’m so, sorry. Please forgive me.” Fenris begged.

“Love you said we couldn’t have left Zevran like that, and we got caught up in the moment. Forgive us please?” Vic said.

Anders pulled back out of Fenris’ arms and put his hand to his head. “I... I still love you all... but... Maker, I feel sick.” His voice turned bitter as he added, “Damn the bloody magebane, and damn that bastard Sebastian!”

Invictus went to get him tea and tugged Fenris back to let Anders breathe. He passed the other mage a cup of mint tea and rubbed gentle circles on his back. “What can we do to work through this love?”

Anders stumbled to the table and sat down, hunching forward as he cradled his hands around the cup. He stared down into the green tea and exhaled slowly.

“I forgive you,” he said quietly. “I forgive you all. I’m still hurt, but I also feel sick as a dog and it’s hard to think through the pain. But - but I _want_ to work through this.”

Fenris wiped a stray tear away before he got his own cup of tea and sat there quietly. “I’ll do whatever you say to make it up to you.” 

“Andraste’s -” began Anders heatedly, then broke off. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled slowly, trying to keep his temper. He opened his eyes and stared back into his cup of tea. “This isn’t something you can fix by - by penance,” he went on, quieter. “I don’t expect you to do anything other than just not doing something like this again.”

Zevran had dropped back into his own chair once more and was watching Anders with a worried expression. Hal had hunched in upon himself, head bowed, his face hidden by his hair.

“I’m so---” Fenris cut himself off and finished his tea instead. “I’ll call the children in to help with lunch, excuse me.” 

Anders merely nodded, then took a sip of his tea.

Zevran glanced to Hal, who looked as though _he_ might throw up at any moment. “Hal,” he said softly. “You should go check on Arden perhaps, yes?”

Invictus rose to start lunch and to leave Anders in peace until he was ready to talk to them. The blond mage seemed withdrawn; he and Hal seemed almost mirrors of each other, hunched over and focused only on their own misery at that point. Both seemed oblivious to anything around them.

Fenris returned with Cal and Pin in tow, and he nudged Invictus out of the way to cook, quiet as he passed each of them something to work on. He kept glancing at Anders but knew enough to keep his mouth shut until the blond was ready to speak to him.

“Hal?” prompted Zevran again, quietly.

Abruptly the redhead lurched to his feet. “Excuse me,” he blurted, his face pale, and then he fled.

Zevran blinked and exchanged glances with Invictus.

Anders had lifted his head briefly to watch Hal flee, but said nothing, merely returning his attention to his cup of mint tea.

Fenris served everyone, and made sure Anders had more of the lighter parts of lunch and refreshed his tea. He dug in without saying anything which got Cal and Pin to notice but not anything. 

Ellowynne looked around the others at the table and looked puzzled. “Where’s Uncle Hal?” she asked. “Daddy, you’re not eating!”

“Daddy’s not feeling very well, sweetheart,” Anders managed in a colourless voice.

“Uncle Hal needed to check on Arden Imp. I’ll take them something in a bit.” Invictus said, with a glance to Anders. “The magebane in your daddy’s shoulder is making him sick. He’ll eat when he’s able ok?”

Ellowynne gave Invictus a skeptical look. “Then why are you and Uncle Fenris tiptoeing around Daddy, and why does he look like he’s been crying?” she replied acerbically.

Anders lifted his head at that, startled, and they could see his eyes were red, his cheeks wet.

“Sorry Imp, we hurt your daddy today and we were trying to be gentle until he’s ready to talk to us again.” Vic said.

Fenris glanced down at his plate at her words and tried to keep from running out. He’d promised not to run from things and he didn’t want to make it worse. 

Ellowynne glared at Invictus, then Fenris, and finally Zevran before she slid from her chair and moved around the table to gently rub her father’s back. “How _dare_ you!” she hissed. “You _knew_ Daddy was hurt, and then you hurt him even more!”

Anders bit back a sob and lowered his head, covering his face with his hand.

“We’ve said sorry Ellowynne, believe us. We’re so sorry. Why don’t you take care of your dad and I’m going to go out to the garden to work.” Fenris said before gathering up the dishes.

“Wynne, will you let me help you with your dad? Please?” Vic asked her, surprised at how angry she was.

Anders rose from the table and turned towards the door; Ellowynne merely glared at Invictus before deliberately turning her back in him and putting her arm around Anders’ waist as he headed towards the door in silence.

Zevran glanced up at his face as Anders passed, then dropped his gaze to the floor as Anders failed to make eye contact.

“Well that went wonderfully.” Vic said as the door to their room closed. “Damn she’s angry with us.” 

Pin looked up at him. “What in the Void did you all do to him?” she exclaimed. “Dumat, I’d almost think you’d told him he had to go back to the templars or something. He looked -” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that before!” She glanced to Callus, Marian and Garrett in turn, all of whom looked equally mystified.

“We hurt him Pin, we ...made a decision while he slept and did something to break his trust. I need to get some air, excuse me.” Fenris hurried out to the garden, away from them on the pretense he was going to work but he just needed to get away from everyone.

Pin headed towards the door then hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to just leave him alone like that with just Wynne,” she said slowly. She glanced to the others; Marian and Garrett both glanced at each other then got to their feet and nodded.

“You go help them, I’ll drag father back in here and stop whinging. Don’t look at me like that Pin, we patched things up so hopefully he’ll listen.” Cal said.

“Anyone else we need to fetch whilst we’re at it?” asked Marian as she glanced at Invictus and Zevran. The Antivan glanced at Invictus, then shrugged.

“I shall go find Hal,” he replied.

Pin halted and stared at him. “Hal?” she echoed. “Wait - what does Hal have to do with this? I know he’s Father’s boyfriend on the side - but I can’t imagine him ever doing or saying anything to hurt Master Anders!”

Zevran spread his hands and shrugged. “It is... complicated,” he said slowly.

Pin rolled her eyes. “ _Venhedis_ ,” she swore. “Alright. You fetch Hal. We’ll go make sure Master Anders is alright.”

“Just...it’s way more complicated and honestly kind of embarrassing for your father than you realize Pin. Just go help Wynne, please?” Vic asked before heading to the bathroom.

As he made his way along the corridor, he heard noises of violent retching coming from the privy. Behind him he could hear Pin, Marian and Garrett heading towards the bedroom as Zevran headed off to the room Arden and Hal had been sharing.

From behind the closed door of the privy came a low, pitiful groan followed by what sounded like a stifled sob.

“Hal? Can I come in please?” Vic asked as approached the door.

There was a quiet click as the door was unlocked, and then it swung open slightly.

Hal was hunched over on the floor; his face was ghastly pale and sweating, and he looked utterly wretched. He stared up at Invictus and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his hand trembling slightly. He sniffed, and scrubbed at his eyes with his other hand.

“Come on, let he help you up and wipe you off yeah? Then we’re going to go talk while the kids get Anders and Fenris together.” Vic said quietly as he dipped a flannel in cool water. 

Hal leaned back to rest against the tiled wall. “Anders must hate me,” he moaned. “How can I ever face him again? After all he’s done for me - and what he’s been through....” He choked back a sob.

“I think he’s kind of overwhelmed and not quite recovered from being hurt. Wynne is caring for him and I came to check on you. Let him rest and then we’ll all talk ok? Everyone is at fault, not just you.” Vic said as he wiped at the younger mage’s face.

Hal closed his eyes. “He was absolutely right though. We - we _should_ have waited. And whilst the first time was to help Zevran, the second? That was me. That was entirely my fault. _I_ was the one who made the first move.”

“We’ll talk about it when Anders is feeling better ok? Don’t beat yourself up too much right now.” Vic said. 

“I just sat there whilst Zevran and Fenris both tried to take the blame and I - I said _nothing_ , I just sat there like a coward and said _nothing!_ ” gasped Hal as he opened his scarred eyes and stared up at Invictus. “I just sat there and watched him hurt and I... Maker. I am such a wretched snivelling coward; how on earth can I face him? I must be the last person on Thedas he ever wants to see. He - he seemed content, calm, almost happy when he came in for breakfast and I - I _ruined_ that!”

Invictus forced Hal to look at him and stop babbling. “Look, if I can forgive Fenris for sleeping with Belann, and he can forgive me for sleeping with Dorian when he hated him, don’t you think Anders will forgive us eventually? Stop beating yourself up and let’s go get you some tea and we’ll all talk when he’s able to do so. Please Hal?” 

“You... you don’t understand,” breathed Hal as he stared at Invictus. “I’ve done this before. In - in our Thedas - mine and Arden’s. I... I... me and Fenris - _my_ Fenris. It was me. I - I _seduced_ him. And it devastated Anders. And now I’ve done it again.”

“You didn’t seduce him or us if I recall. We all said yes, so stop beating yourself up, I’m telling you not asking anymore.” Vic said as he made Hal look at him. 

Hal let his hands fall into his lap and finally met Invictus’ gaze directly.

“Are you finished?” said Invictus sternly.

“Yes,” replied Hal, his voice colourless.

“Right, then let’s get you cleaned up,” decided Invictus.

They encountered Zevran in the hall, the Antivan looking worried. “Invictus, I cannot find -” He broke off as Hal stepped out from behind the taller mage, looking shamefaced and wan.

“Ah, there he is!” said Zevran in relief. “When I could not find him, I became most worried. Arden is awake and asking for you, Hal.”

“Oh Maker,” moaned Hal. “I... I need to tell _him_ now.” He threaded his hands into his hair. “What will he think of me? And after I did this to him and our Anders in our own world!”

“Would you like me to come with you?” offered Zevran courteously.

Hal shook his head and straightened his shoulders. “No. I was the one who did this. I’m the one who should tell him, and face the consequences.”

“Hal-” began Invictus as he laid a hand on the younger mage’s shoulder, but stopped when he saw the look of determination on Hal’s face. Invictus stepped back.

“We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us,” he said, then looked to Zevran, who nodded.

Hal drew a deep breath, then headed into the room he’d shared with Arden.

“Fuck,” said Invictus with a low sigh. “I need a drink.”

“It is yet early, and yet I think that sounds a most excellent idea, my love,” agreed Zevran.

“Sit, I’ll pour for us love.” Vic said sadly, and his hand wasn’t too steady as he poured them each three fingers of Antivan brandy. “To us love, no matter what happens.”

Zevran took his glass, and nodded, then lifted his glass. “To us, and may we all emerge from this wiser and still together,” he replied before sipping.

“I think we will, its just hard to see us fracture like this so soon after nearly losing Anders for real. I---” Vic’s voice dropped as he heard raised voices from the garden, and sighed. “Seems that Cal isn't having the best time talking to Fenris.”

“I heard nothing from our room,” said Zevran softly. “I do not know how his pupils are faring with Anders. Perhaps the silence is good?”

There was a sudden hoarse shout from the direction of the guest room, muffled by the closed door, and Zevran winced. “I fear that Arden has not taken the news of Hal’s indiscretion too well either,” he sighed.

“Well, let’s brace for whatever happens, but I won’t be surprised if Arden comes out to give us an earful in a bit.” Vic said as he refilled their glasses. 

Zevran chuckled mirthlessly. “No doubt you will be proven correct. Though perhaps that might pull him out of his dark mood of yesterday, hmm?”

“Screaming at us is a change from turning in on himself, I guess that’s better?” Invictus said just as the door opened and Arden came out. Further down the hall, the bedroom door opened and Anders stepped out.

Both Arden and Anders wore matching expressions - stunned, pale, a little in shock perhaps. Anders stumbled towards the kitchen; Arden watched, then turned towards the parlour then checked himself as he spotted Invictus and Zevran.

He stared at them for a moment, his expression growing cold, before he turned on his heel and stalked towards the kitchen.

A few minutes later, as Zevran and Invictus were staring at each other, Hal emerged from the bedroom with his head bowed, and slowly headed towards the kitchen after Arden.

“Not good,” muttered Zevran.

“Not good at all, but let’s see what happens. Just be ready to run, if you can.” Vic said as he tried to relax and see what would happen with the other two mages. 

Zevran followed Invictus into the kitchen. He had a brief moment to notice Anders sitting at the table, his face white; Hal standing to one side, wringing his hands and looking miserable; Arden standing in front of Anders and the table, his face twisting into a look of raw anger as Zevran met his gaze -

And then Zevran’s back hit the wall with a sickening crunch as he was flung violently back through the door and into the hall wall directly outside. He was pinned there by some unseen force that was pressing against his chest; he could scarcely breathe as Arden stalked towards him. Behind him in the kitchen, Hal had screamed, and Anders was rising to his feet with a horrified expression. But Zevran’s attention was all on Arden.

“You!” spat Arden as he glared at the pinioned Antivan. “This was _your_ fault! You fucking _bastard_! After everything that happened yesterday, you pull this stunt? You’ve hurt Anders, you have no idea what it’s done to me, and so Maker help me I am going to kill you, you fucking Antivan _whore!!_ ”

“Arden, _NO!!_ ” screamed Anders as Arden threw out his hand and shards of ice erupted from his feet to shoot out towards the helpless Antivan. 

Fenris had heard the screaming and bolted in to see what had happened, hearing Arden call Zevran a whore as he took in the scene. “Mythal save us, what have we done?” he said as he ran in front of Arden and tried to get him to stop. “No, no, Arden please don’t do this. Its my fault, mine. I can take this, you’re going to kill him or cripple him, please take it out on me.” 

“Fenris! Stop it. No one is killing anyone today and you are not going to take the blame either.” Invictus called up a Force Cage as he stared down Arden. “Arden, dispel whatever you’ve done and back away. I don’t want to fight you.” 

Arden glared up at Zevran, his eyes full of hate, then he turned his glare upon Fenris. His lip curled in a sneer. “Of course you’d protect him - you’re just as bad as he is! You’ve just been dying to fuck Hal, haven’t you? Over and over you’ve cuckolded me, you fucking bastard! You think I didn’t know?”

Fenris dropped to his knees in front of Arden as he stared up at the furious mage. “Arden, we thought you knew? I thought...you mean you, oh Maker.” He swallowed and tried to stay calm. “Grande Enchanter, I beg you not to harm Zevran. If you want to hurt someone, I can take it, he can’t. Please don’t kill him, not when you’re right. I’m sorry, I’m so damned sorry just let him go, please?” 

“Stop begging! We all were at fault here, and Arden is making a huge mistake. I get it, you’re angry and clearly you’re hurting but you can’t undo this if you kill him. Leave, say we’re no longer friends, do what you need to but don’t take his life. I swear it Arden, if you kill Zevran and you manage to leave alive? You’ll leave as an enemy, do you want that?” Invictus said as he held a spell at the ready.

“No, _no!_ ” cried Anders; he was struggling wildly as Pin, Callus and Garrett held him back. “Arden, no, for Andraste’s sake I’m begging you! If you kill Zevran then you may as well kill me too, because I can’t -”

Garrett slapped a hand over Anders’ mouth hastily. “Grand Enchanter, please - this isn’t going to help anyone!” he shouted desperately as Anders struggled harder. “Look - please, can’t we all just sit down and talk about this? Master Anders is hurt, we get that you’re upset and hurting, and Maker but I think you’ve half-killed Zevran already!”

Marian rushed forward and clutched at Arden’s arm. “First Enchanter, remember how you felt when Sebastian died,” she said in a low, urgent voice. “It didn’t change anything, did it? You still feel the same as you did before he died, didn’t you?”

Arden halted and turned to stare at her as she went on.

“Master Arden, if you kill Zevran, it will be worse. Because Zevran was your friend, and by killing him, it won’t make things right in your heart - and you’ll be hurting Master Anders so much worse. He’s already been betrayed by the men he loves. Would you have him mourn them too?”

She gestured towards Anders, who had fallen silent and stopped struggling; as Arden turned to stare at him, Anders sagged in the grip of Callus, Garrett and Pin, tears rolling down his face.

“Look at him, ser,” she said quietly. “You know he has a weak heart. If you kill Zevran, you’ll be killing him too.”

“I...” said Arden in a small, lost voice. He turned and looked at Invictus, then Fenris and finally at Zevran. “I... no... no, I....”

Zevran was abruptly released and fell to the floor as the ice disappeared.

Fenris carefully turned and went to Zevran, fearful the elf was already gone. “Please look at me if you can. Don’t be dead, please. If you are, then I might as well take my own heart.” 

Invictus dashed over to check on the Antivan, terrified he would find him dead or close to it. 

Zevran lay unconscious, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. Blood was seeping from his nose and was speckled upon his lips; a thin rivulet of blood was running slowly down the side of his face.

“He’s breathing, barely. Get your healing kit and Anders if he can pull together mana to help because this is beyond my skill. GO!” Invictus yelled to snap Fenris out of it. He focused on the elf under his hands, trying to see where the worst injuries were.

Fenris ran into the house, skidding to a halt with the bag for Invictus to have at the ready. He turned to see Anders and called for him. “Help him, _please!_ ”

Invictus frowned as he focused on sending his magic through Zevran’s body; he could feel that Zevran had broken ribs, likely a concussion and internal bleeding. “Get Anders or Hal, don’t fucking let Arden near him,” he said before focusing once more.

Garrett lowered his hand; he and Callus exchanged a glance then let Anders go. Pin grabbed his hand and half led, half dragged Anders over to Zevran’s side; Anders was white faced and in shock, but at Pin’s urging he reached out to try and drag enough mana together in spite of the magebane.

Fenris lit his brands and reached out to Anders silently, his head bowed as he hoped that it helped. Soon he was quietly praying in Tevene for Zevran, since he wasn’t sure what else he could do.

Anders linked his fingers with those of Fenris and closed his eyes. He gasped as he felt the raw power of the Fade rip rip through him, burning away the last lingering effects of the magebane even as Pin dropped to her knees beside him and began calling up healing spirits. Anders’ hands glowed with healing power as he stretched one hand out to Zevran. Small twinkles of light floated around him as Pin’s wisps gathered to lend their aid; they gathered around Zevran too, gently settling over his injuries - his head, across his ribs and chest, and down his bad leg.

Behind them, they could hear Hal crying - and then Invictus was distracted as Ellowynne threw herself at Arden and began punching and kicking him. “You killed my Uncle Zevran - I hate you, I _hate you!!_ ”

Arden stared down at her in shock, making no effort to defend himself as Marian hurried over.

“Wynne, don’t - Master Zevran isn’t dead, look! Your father is healing him, and Pin’s helping!” she exclaimed as she tried to pull the enraged child away.

“He’s dead, he’s dead and _he_ killed him!” Ellowynne insisted, and then she raised her hands, flames wreathing around her fists.

“Wynne, _no!_ ” exclaimed Invictus as he rapidly wove a counterspell; she turned and glared at him as her fire spell was smothered. He hurried to her and grabbed her hands, turning her to face him. “Wynne, Uncle Zevran is alive - your Daddy and Pin are healing him, look!”

She finally looked over at the group clustered around Zevran, and at that moment he coughed and then moaned softly in pain before drawing a rasping, bubbling breath; there was bloodied froth upon his lips.

“Fuck,” breathed Invictus. He knew the signs of a punctured lung when he saw one.

“Uncle Zev!” cried Ellowynne, and then burst into tears.

Invictus knelt down and hugged the crying child, making soothing noises. “It’s going to be OK, Wynne,” he said as they watched Anders healing Zevran. “Uncle Zev’s going to be OK, alright? Your Daddy won’t let him die, see?”

Arden backed away slowly and fell into a chair heavily before dropping his head into his hands. “Maker. What have I done?” he groaned.

Callus was watching Zevran as the Antivan lay there, a bleak expression on his face. He knew what the bloodied froth on Zevran’s lips meant too.

Marian straightened and elbowed her twin. “Gar. Look at Cal,” she muttered. He turned and groaned before moving over to Callus and laying a hand on the elven youth’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly in sympathy. Marian watched for a moment before making her way over to Hal, who had collapsed into a heap of misery on the floor. She knelt down next to him and took his hands in hers and began talking to him gently in a low voice.

Fenris opened his eyes once he felt Anders’ hand pull slowly from his, and he looked down at Zevran. “Mythal, what have we done?” he whispered. He took one of the slighter elf’s hands in his, uncaring that he was crying while sitting with him. He glanced over to where Arden had sat, but knew if he moved he would kill the other man.

“Arden needs to leave, because once Zev is ok I might not be able to control myself. I know we hurt you and him but this is too far.” the fighter said just for Anders to hear.

Anders stared down at the unconscious Zevran and merely nodded. He was exhausted and drained, his left shoulder aching terribly, and he felt emotionally exhausted by all that had happened that morning. He didn’t think he had much more in him to give.

Ellowynne looked up at her father. “Daddy, will Uncle Zevran be OK?” she asked in a small voice.

Anders nodded tiredly. “Eventually, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “He’s sleeping right now. He was very badly hurt, and he might have - might have -” He bit his lip, and swallowed hard, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “W-we nearly lost h-him but - but he’s going to make it,” he managed to finish.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Zevran’s unconscious face. There was still a smear of drying blood on his lips; Anders reached forward to brush it away, then suddenly felt a sharp pain through his chest. It felt like there was a vice around his ribs, crushing them, and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath. He clutched at his chest and gasped as he doubled over.

“No...no, no!” Fenris shouted as he turned Anders over. “Vic! Hal!” 

Anders lay there, staring at the ceiling. He felt strange, odd; it was hard to think through the pain that was radiating down his left arm and crushing his chest. He couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath, and yet he felt strangely detached from it all.

He heard Pin urgently telling Fenris something about foxglove and a bottle, then felt an arm around his shoulders, lifting him slightly. People were clustering around him; worried faces, talking to him, telling him to hold on and don’t leave them. 

_Not going anywhere_ , he thought to himself. 

Fenris’ face swam into view; tears were running down his face. Invictus was there - was he crying too? He wanted to tell them not to cry, but he had no strength.

There was something bitter on his tongue and someone was holding a glass of water to his lips. He wanted to spit out the pill that was dissolving on his tongue, but then Hal was staring at him fiercely and telling him to swallow.

It was easier to give in and swallow; he sipped the water and closed his eyes.

He felt a loosening of the tight iron band around his chest and a strange tingling. _Magic_ , he thought, and opened his eyes to see Hal staring down at him. Healing him.

Anders managed a faint smile, then closed his eyes again.

“Maker, I thought I was going to lose him,” breathed Hal as he stared down at Anders. “I could feel his heart stuttering. I - I think he’s going to make it.” He glanced up at Pin. “That was good thinking, going for the foxglove pills.”

“Can he be carried?” Fenris asked, his voice gone flat and wooden as he glanced at the redhead and his daughter. 

Invictus had risen to stare at Arden as if he couldn’t make up his mind on how to kill the other mage. “You need to leave, now.” 

Arden lifted his head slowly to stare at Invictus for a moment before glancing to Hal.

“I... I can’t leave now,” said Hal in a small voice. “Please... you have to understand. Anders and Zevran need me. No-one else here has my experience or skill at healing. I - I _can’t_ go with you.”

Arden got slowly to his feet. “Then... we’re done. It’s over.”

Hal looked stricken. “Arden -”

“No,” said the Grand Enchanter, shaking his head. “This is it. I’m leaving. If you stay here, then it’s over.”

“You can’t do this,” whispered Hal. “You can’t make me choose. I’m a _healer_ \- they _need_ me!”

“I’m going to fetch my bag, and then I’m leaving,” stated Arden as if Hal hadn’t spoken. “You have until I return to this room to decide if you’re coming with me or staying here. But if you stay here, then don’t bother to come back.” He turned and left the room, heading for the guest room.

Fenris let Anders down gently before running after Arden and grabbing him by the throat to drag him back out where he held him on the ground, claws out and his eyes dark with fury. “You will not do this Arden Hawke. You are the one that nearly _killed_ Zevran in your anger. We hurt you and him, but I swear to Mythal and all you hold dear if you abandon Hal when we need his healing skills I will tear you to pieces very, very slowly. I offered you to take it out on me, but you almost killed two of us today. I will be damned if you hurt Hal like that. You’re going to sit in that fucking chair and be quiet until we know if Zevran and Anders will be ok. Do. you.understand me?” 

Invictus had gathered Anders in his arms as he watched them, a sleep spell at the ready in case Arden still decided to leave Hal there. He wanted to pull Fenris off but he agreed with his husband. Angry or not, Anders was in no fit state to heal a cat, and he was nowhere near as skilled as the young enchanter. 

Cal had sat by Zevran to protect him, but was concerned that someone was going to die before the day was out.

Arden bucked and struggled to free himself, grasping Fenris’ wrist and trying to wrest it away from his throat but in vain. “Un- unhand me!” he snarled. “You have no right!”

Hal watched, silent, his face blank in shock. Behind him, Ellowynne was glaring at Arden in near-hatred.

“Let me hurt him, Uncle Fenris,” she hissed. “He hurt Uncle Zevran and Daddy is very sick and hurt. Let me hurt him!”

Fenris grinned, fangs out as he stared at the mage under him. “If you had not tried to dump Hal like that, and simply left? I wouldn’t be doing this. So will you sit and let Hal work or are you going to make me tie you up until you see reason?” 

“Fenris, let him go if he wants. If he’ll drop Hal when we need his healing skill, do you think he’ll treat him well after this anyway?” Vic asked.

“That’s their decision once Hal has helped here. I am no mage, and treating Zevran is beyond my skill with herbs and such. I will have a talk with Arden, even if I have to hogtie him to the spare bed to do it.” Fenris said in that same flat voice as he stared at the blond.

Arden glared up at the elf. “Fuck. You,” he growled, then spit into Fenris’ face.

“I did once, or did you forget?” Fenris replied calmly as he wiped his face off. “Vic too but you didn’t complain then did you?” 

Arden merely glared at him, then ground out between gritted teeth, “Damn you, damn you to the Void!”  
“Too late, I’m sure there’s a rather well appointed spot waiting for me there. Now will you let Hal help us as a Healer, nothing more or do I need to force you to stay?” Fenris blinked, as he felt tears welling up again despite his anger. “Arden...must I beg you not to hurt him as well? I will take whatever you want to do to me, but we need him so they don’t die!” 

Arden’s face was like stone. “Let me go,” he growled. “Beg all you like but I am leaving, and to the Void with all of you. You’ve got what you wanted! Let me leave, that’s what you all wanted, wasn’t it? Keep him! I no longer care. Just get the hell off me, and I’ll go!”

The elven warrior wiped at his face before he closed his eyes and teleported to the spare room, one arm firmly around Arden’s waist so he could keep him in place. “I’m sorry Arden, but I can’t let you break Hal like that, I’m going to tie you to the bed and ask Vic to put you to sleep for a while. I just hope to Maker when you come around you’ll at least listen to one of us.” Fenris sounded sad as he struggled with Arden and finally had to call for help. He wound up keeping Arden under him, barely as he opened the door and called for Cal over the other man’s screaming, cussing and yelling. He ignored the begging for the moment, since he wasn’t going to let go.

“Callus, bring me rope, now!” He shouted.

“No, no, _no!_ ” screamed Arden as he bucked and flailed, desperately trying to escape. “Not that - please, no, not rope! Don’t put me to sleep!” As Cal entered bearing a coil of rope, Arden’s struggles became more frenzied and he began screaming in terror.

“ _No!_ Don’t - please, don’t, don’t hurt me - I’ll do anything, just please, not that!”

“You won’t listen, and you spit in my face so fuck you Arden. I begged, I asked and I threatened. So now its come to this.” the elven fighter said as he picked the slighter mage up and put him on the bed. “Wrists and ankles, I don’t want him to strangle himself trying to get off the bed. Get your sister or Invictus to use Sleep on him once he’s tied.”

Fenris held his feet together despite Ardens’ attempts to lash out and kick him in the face. “You’re so lucky you missed.” he snapped before pulling the mage’s arms behind his back. 

“Mercy, please have mercy!” Arden was sobbing now in terror. “Whatever you want - I’ll say whatever you want, only please don’t hurt me! Maker, have mercy!” He’d given up struggling and lay limp beneath Fenris, not resisting as his wrists were bound firmly behind his back.

“Father,” said Callus in a worried voice as he stared at Arden. “Father... he - I don’t think he’s with us.”

The older elf stared at his son, then down at Arden who was weeping quietly but had stopped trying to struggle. He knelt down to the other man’s level, noticing how he had tensed finally. “Arden?” he asked carefully.

“Please,” Arden whispered through his tears as he stared through Fenris. “Don’t hurt me again. I can’t take any more. Just... please, have mercy on me. I’m not him. I swear I’m not. Please....”

“You’re right, he has no clue where he is right now. Probably thinks he’s captive again or maybe that templars have him. Go get Invictus please and I’ll stay here until we can figure something out.” Fenris took the chair next to the bed and sighed. “Fuck...I quit.”

Cal swiftly left the room and sprinted back down the hall to where Invictus was waiting with the others. “Master Invictus, Father needs you,” he said urgently. “Something’s wrong with Arden. He seems to think he’s being held captive or something. He’s just... gone.”

Hal glanced up at him with a hopeless expression. “He was tortured for a year in Sebastian’s dungeon,” he said dully. “Sebastian thought he was Anders. He was slowly torturing him to death. He... gets flashbacks sometimes. Nightmares.”

“Ok Cal. You help Hal get Anders to our room, then someone make a stretcher for Zevran. Pin you and Imp take care of that will you? Then someone write up a request for workers to come and look at our wall. Then I am going to get very, very drunk even if its early in the day. All of you move!” Vic used his teacher voice before heading inside to deal with Arden. 

Arden had fallen quiet, now, lying still as he gazed through Fenris; when Invictus entered the room, his glazed eyes fell upon the other mage and he gave a ghastly smile. “Kill me,” he whispered. “Put an end to this. I can’t handle any more of this. Just put me out of my misery. You’ve won. I’m Anders. Kill me now.”

“Maker he thinks he’s back in Sebastian’s dungeon.” Vic sighed as he approached the other mage. “I’m not killing you, though Maker knows I kind of want to after this morning. If we untie you, will you stay in this room?”

“Vic, he doesn’t see us. This is like when I’d think I was back in Minrathous, when I’d retreat back into my memories. Can you get us some food and water then lock the door from the outside? I’ll untie him and hope he comes around on his own. Or put him to sleep and then lock the door from the outside and I’ll stay in here?” 

“Neither is a good solution, he’s a powerful mage Fenris he could hurt you when he comes back around.” Vic sighed as he considered them. “How the blue fucking Void did we go from last night to this? Never mind, I know how, I’m just ranting. You need food and water, and so does he, after all he went on this rampage before so much as coffee this morning. I’ll send one of the kids in with a tray. Just ...keep him tied till then.”

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat; Invictus looked up to see Garrett standing in the doorway. “Perhaps magebane? it’ll render him pretty much helpless - no magic, and he’ll feel too sick to do or think much. I mean - I hate to suggest it, but - well.” He shifted uncomfortably.

Fenris nodded and left the room to get a vial of magebane from their room, and shut the door, locking it before he untied Arden’s ankles and got him sitting up. “Open your mouth.” he asked softly.

Arden looked at the vial and gave a small, hopeless sigh before he closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

He gagged a little on the bitterness of the drug, but swallowed it all. As Fenris lowered the empty vial, he opened his eyes and stared up at the elf. “You’re going to kill me now, aren’t you?” he whispered. “I won’t fight you. I’m tired. Just... please make it fast.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, baring his throat.

“No one is going to kill you, though Mythal knows I am so, so tempted right now Arden Hawke. I’m going to untie you and you’re staying put. I’ll stay by the door and when you are yourself again, I hope you can be sensible.” Fenris said as he caught himself about to raise his hand towards the other man’s throat. He turned and waved the others out. “I’ll lock the door then untie him. You have your keys Vic?” 

“Yeah, I’ll leave you alone unless we hear fighting. I’ll bring you something in a couple of hours and let you take a break ok?” Vic kissed his cheek before ushering Garrett out ahead of him and pulling the door closed.

Arden had lowered his head and opened his eyes, and he was now staring at Fenris’ hand. He’d caught the movement as Fenris had checked his urge to reach for his throat, and he was staring at the elf’s claws in vague puzzlement.

“Once you remember, it won’t seem so strange.” Fenris untied the mage and sat back, staring at Arden as if he was torn between fighting him for nearly killing Zevran and going to pieces. The last couple of days had pushed him past his emotional limits. Instead he lowered his head to his hands and sobbed. 

Arden blinked and stared at the elf, then down at the red marks around his wrists from the rope. He rubbed his wrists slowly, then glanced up at Fenris in bewilderment. “Why... why didn’t you kill me?” he asked in a small voice.

The elf looked up, his expression blank as he considered the mage. “You’re not ok Arden, and much as I want to hurt you? This wouldn’t be a fair fight, you don’t remember right now and even I won’t hurt you when you’re not in your right mind. Just sleep, or something would you?” 

“This... this is a trick, isn’t it?” Arden said, his voice wavering. “Please... don’t do this to me. Just... I’d rather you just beat me and get it over with. Don’t play with me like that.” Clumsily he began to strip his shirt off.

“No! Put your shirt back on, right now. Just leave me alone, you’ve done enough today. Just … leave me alone, please.” Fenris asked as he went to the door and sat against it, hoping distance from Arden would make it a little more bearable.

Arden dropped the shirt onto the floor then dropped to his knees beside it. He bent over until his forehead touched the carpet, his back bowed, and stayed like that, waiting.

“I’m cursed that’s it, I’m bloody damned and cursed.” Fenris whispered as he scrabbled against the door, unlocked it before slamming it closed, leaving Arden alone. He was shaking as he sat against it, and soon he began to laugh, a bitter, high sound that wasn’t normal for him at all. He kept going as he considered how the last couple of days had gone until he was on his side, still laughing hysterically. 

Marian emerged from the kitchen, bewildered; she approached Fenris slowly, and stared down at him. Slowly she crouched down. “Master Fenris?” she said tentatively. “Master Fenris, are you alright? Should I get Master Invictus?”

The elf didn’t answer, he just continued to laugh and giggle to himself as he laid there, not hearing the girl or ignoring her. 

She got up and lifted her gaze to the door behind him. Carefully stepping over him, she gently opened it and then halted, staring at the blond man huddled on the carpet, forehead pressed to the floor, arms limp by his side, back bowed still.

“Master Arden?” she ventured quietly. “Grand Enchanter?” There was no response.

She turned and fled in search of Invictus.

Invictus had left Zevran in Callus’ care as he was nearly bowled over by Marian. “Careful, you almost took us both down. What’s wrong now?” he asked the girl, sure something else had gone bad. 

“Master Fenris - won’t stop laughing,” she gasped. “And Grand Enchanter Arden - something’s very wrong. He’s on his knees on the floor and won’t move.”

“Fuck me and the wyvern that cursed me.” Vic muttered as he went back in for his staff and a black box from the dresser. “Can you and your brother come help me? I think I’ll need someone to stay with Arden until he’s back to himself and I’ll deal with Fenris.” 

Garrett nodded and he and Marian fell into step with Invictus. “What are you going to do to him, ser? Arden, I mean?” asked Marian.

“Nothing, though I want to break his damned neck right now. You two get Arden up and back in bed, and I’ll deal with Fenris. Then everyone is taking a nap, so help me Dumat.” Vic said as he approached to find Fenris still laughing off and on, the door open and Arden still waiting for something. 

“We are all accursed by the Maker, I swear it.” he said as he got Fenris sitting up and his arms around the warrior. “Love, you hear me?”

Garrett and Marian went into the bedroom. Marian crouched down and tried to persuade Arden up off the carpet.

“Stop playing games,” came the mage’s voice, muffled by the carpet. “Just whip me and get it over with.”

Marian and Garrett exchanged shocked glances, then Garrett glanced to Invictus. “Ser?”

“He thinks he’s back in Sebastian’s clutches and Fenris is a jailer. Pick him up if you have to and put him on the damn bed.” Vic replied before putting the black box in Fenris’ hands and holding him. 

“Love, you’re ok, you’re ok. I’ve got you and you’ve got your box. Come on, you scare me when you do this.” Vic pleaded.

The elf was still laughing softly even as Vic held him, as he held the box that held all his mementos. “Not ok, not ok” he muttered in between soft giggling.

As Vic tried to get him up but couldn’t manage it before Callus came past. He tried to keep the younger elf from seeing how his pater had gone to pieces but failing. 

“What is wrong with him?” He asked.

“Cal, please...he’s just hit his limit is all. If I can get him to our room, I can manage this. Can you see if Marian or Garrett needs help before you go back to Zevran?” Vic whispered reassurance to Fenris as he held his husband.

“Of course Hawke, I’ll be back in your room shortly if you need anything else.” Cal said before turning just to hear Arden begging for a whipping. He smiled as he entered the room to find the twins staring at the blond human before them. 

“Go on, I’ll take care of him. First Enchanter Hawke might need help getting papa to their room anyway, I can handle one scrawny mage on my own.” Cal said with that same devious grin.

The twins looked at each other skeptically then at Cal, unsure they wanted to leave the Grand Enchanter alone with their friend.

“Cal you have that look about you, can we leave you alone with him?” Garrett asked.

“Yeah, Pin and Imp need more help than I do and she really needs someone to keep her calm, she’s so worried about her father and Master Zevran that I’m no help with. Please help Hawke, and I’ll take care of this one.” He gave them that same winning smile that had gotten someone into his bed before shooing them out of the room and locking it. That smile was gone when he turned back to Arden, laid out on the bed.

“So you nearly kill my master, and Anders. Now you play at being docile? I’m going to give you that whipping you begged for. After seeing my father go to pieces, I’m going to enjoy this, even if you might not realize who I am.” Cal’s grin was sheer malice as he looked around for a strap or something to take his anger out with.

Arden was lying on his back on the bed, one arm flung up over his eyes; as Cal approached the bed, he lowered the arm and opened his eyes, turning his head to stare at the elven youth dully. He said nothing. After a moment, he slowly sat up, and unbuckled his belt slowly before taking it off. He doubled it over, then held it out silently.

Callus frowned, then took it; Arden glanced up at him, then rose from the bed. He walked to the middle of the room then knelt down and bowed down. “Do your worst,” he said quietly.

Cal sneered as he let the belt whistle through the air for a few quick strokes. “You’re not so gone anymore, I can see it in your eyes.” 

Arden flinched slightly at the sound. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked. His voice was calm and flat.

“No, though I should for what you did to Master Zevran, Anders and father. I’m just going to beat you like one of them should have.” Cal grinned savagely as he wrapped the buckle around his hand and swung it one last time before he moved behind Arden. 

Arden merely nodded. “I understand,” he said softly. He bowed his head, his long blond hair falling forward until Callus could see the rope scar around his throat, above the old scar tissue of past beatings and whippings. “Will the others try to stop you if I cry out?”

“Probably, but you can’t think I care right now.” Cal said as he pulled his arm back and struck Arden hard over his shoulders, and without missing a beat hit him on the reverse swing. 

Arden let out a ragged gasp, then bit his lip. He curled his hands into fists, the nails digging into his palms. As the belt struck him again, slightly lower, he held his breath against the blossoming pain then let out a strangled groan, determined not to scream.

Cal struck him repeatedly until he felt wetness on his face after a hard blow to the other man’s back, and he realized it was blood. He stopped when he saw the ragged mess he’d made of Arden’s already scarred flesh. He dropped the belt and went to the room’s basin for water, his hands shaking at what he’d done in his rage. 

Arden had been almost silent throughout the ordeal, save for the ragged gasping of his breath and stifled grunts. Even as he felt his blood running, hot and wet over his lacerated skin, still he managed not to cry out until the final blow, when a hoarse, ragged cry escaped his bitten, bleeding lips. 

He was bowed low, face practically pressed to the carpet now as he shivered in reaction to the sheer pain that was rolling through him. His back was afire. Dimly he recalled the whipping he’d received at Alrik’s hands, and he shuddered, remembering what had come next.

“P-please,” he managed to get out hoarsely. “Please tell me you... you didn’t bring... vinegar?”

“No, I’m angry not that sadistic. Just hush and let me clean you up then you’re going to sleep and hopefully not be such an asshole to everyone when you wake up.” Cal muttered as he wrung the bloody flannel out for the second time, having to get a fresh batch of water and soap. “Seems you can me out of Tevinter, but not that damn place out of me.” he said as he gently urged Arden to stretch out on his stomach. “Hold still, you need salve.”

Arden lay on the floor, his arms by his sides, and slowly managed to uncurl his hands. His nails had carved bloodied crescents in his palm. He lay still, shivering slightly. “I can’t heal myself,” he murmured. “They gave me magebane.”

“Yes because you tried to kill Zevran and spit in my father's face after you were going to leave Hal here simply for helping to heal. I wish father had choked you just enough to make you fear death.” Cal muttered angrily as he applied salve to the cuts, and reached for a healing potion. “Can you take this on your own?”

“I don’t fear death,” replied Arden. “I’ve begged for it too many times to fear it now.” He glanced at the potion. “I don’t deserve that, or your care.”

“Trust me, the only reason I didn’t kill you is for what it would do to Hal or the other strange Anders. I care nothing for you any longer, not after what you’ve done today. Now will you drink that potion or do I need to shove it down your damn throat?” Cal said as he sat back and tried to get Arden to sit up with him and take the vial.

Arden turned his face away. “Go. Leave me.” He tried to curl up, away from Callus.

“The Void you you are going to just give up. Open your fucking mouth or I’ll shove this so far down you’ll shit it out later.” Cal snapped.

Arden tried to shove him away, and suddenly found his arms were pinned to his sides as Cal’s strong arm was wrapped around his torso, and with the other hand Cal jammed the neck of the vial against his lips, forcing it into his mouth and wrenching his head back. He tried to struggle but he may as well have saved his strength; Callus was implacable, and the vial was being forced into his throat. The potion flooded his mouth and throat, and then the empty vial had been cast aside and Cal’s hand was firmly clasped over Arden’s mouth and nose, sealing his nostrils shut.

“Swallow, damn you, or you can fucking choke for all I care,” snarled the elven youth in his ear. Arden struggled even harder, but in vain. His chest was burning, and all he was aware of was the pain in his flayed back and the burning in his chest. Black stars were bursting before his eyes and he felt lightheaded and dizzy.

Finally he surrendered and swallowed, even as he felt consciousness beginning to fade.

Cal felt him go limp in his arms finally, and he got the slight human into bed and under the blankets before he cleaned up, rolling the bloodied belt up so he could burn or bury it later. He fell back into the chair with a troubled sigh, scared for what he’d done but strangely calm about it. It had felt good to beat Arden, and that’s what worried him the most. 

 

***

Anders opened his eyes slowly and blinked as he stared at the underside of the canopy of their bed. He blinked, for the moment still too sleep-fuddled for coherent thought.

He turned his head slowly and saw Invictus sitting in a chair beside the bed, and he managed a drowsy smile. “Hello, love,” he managed, and was surprised at how weak it came out. His chest ached dully, and he felt out of breath.

“Hey love, glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” Vic asked as he approached the bed. 

“Weak,” Anders confessed. 

“Not surprising, everything considered. Want something to eat or tea? I’ll get you a potion too while I’m up.” Vic said with a smile. 

“Tea would be good,” Anders nodded. He sighed. “What... what happened? I think I had a heart attack. Was that Hal healing me, just before I passed out?”

“You did and yes it was. I’ll explain once I check on everyone. Just rest up until I return love.” Vic gave him a gentle kiss and helped him sit up and propped him him up. “I won’t be long, just relax.”

Anders glanced at Zevran where he lay unconscious beside him, Fenris curled up around him asleep. “I should think Zevran will be out for hours,” he said quietly. “Poor Fenris. He was as frantic as any of us over what happened, and I’m guessing he didn’t cope too well with me collapsing right after.” He sighed. 

Vic nodded, leaning over to run a hand through Fenris’ hair. “Fen was worse actually, he kind of...broke last night. Just lost it and started laughing hysterically, even his box didn’t do anything and I finally had to put him to sleep. I hope to Maker everyone is in a better state today. Rest love, I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Anders joked weakly. He laid back against the pillows and smiled.

“Well you’re feeling better if you can joke.” Vic quipped before heading to the kitchen for tea and something light for Anders. He returned with the tray which he sat over the blond’s lap, and offered to feed him. 

Anders was content to lie there and be fed, for once. He felt weak as a kitten, and trying to sit up had made his chest hurt worse, so he made no fuss about being fed from Invictus’ hand.

He tired all too soon however, and between one bite and the next he drifted back into sleep.

Vic set the tray aside, and after settling Anders he went out to check on everyone. He found the twins were up and having tea in the parlor, Pin was sitting with Imp, doing tricks to distract her and Callus was nowhere to be found, neither was Hal. He waved at them on the way to see what state Arden was in and paused. He entered and noticed the dark stains on the carpet and the way the other man was laid out on the bed. Instead of trying to question him, he left in search of the younger elf.

“Have you seen Cal this morning?” he asked Pin as he tapped his hand against his thigh, impatient to find out what had happened while he tended to his husbands. 

Pin glanced up; she had been in the middle of showing Ellowynne how to summon wisps. The younger girl was impatient and grew too excited when she managed to call one, and her excited bouncing kept driving them off.

“Not since early this morning,” she replied. She noted the expression on his face, and nervously added, “Ser.”

“You don’t have to ser me Pin, you’re not in trouble. Your brother though, he may be calling me ser before I’m done, or stop beating me, ser. Pardon me while I look for him, and one of you find Hal.” Vic grinned at her before turning around to check the kids rooms.

Ellowynne jumped up. “Uncle Vic, Hal went out towards the willow pond yesterday,” she called. “I don’t think he ever came back though.”

“Thanks sweetheart, Marian can you go get Hal and bring him in? If you hear screaming it means I found Cal.” Vic turned again to head upstairs, wondering if the boy was still in the house.

Marian dashed out of the back door from the kitchen and sprinted down to the willow pond. She’d rarely seen such a look of barely-restrained fury on Invictus’ face, and it scared her.

She found Hal by the willow pond; his back was resting against the trunk of the willow tree, one hand trailing in the water, fast asleep.

**

Meanwhile Invictus had knocked on Cal’s door, and opened it when there was a low call of come in. He shut and locked it, crossing the room in a few steps and snatching Cal up by the front of his tunic. “What did you do?”

Cal looked up into Invictus’ face, startled. “What? Master Invictus -”

“There was blood on the floor when I went to check on Arden, and…” his voice trailed off as he noticed the blood stained belt. “You ...beat him?” Vic asked as he tightened his grip on the teen.

Cal drew a gasping breath as his gaze went to the belt; mentally he cursed not having gotten rid of it. “It - it’s his belt. Ardens,” he managed to get out. Invictus’ grasp upon his collar was coming close to choking him as the taller man hefted him there with his toes barely able to touch the floor. “Master Invictus, I can explain -”

“Explain? Explain! What the bloody fucking Void is there to explain? He was out of his mind when I left him, Fenris told me you’re the one who noticed he wasn’t fully present and yet you beat him? What is wrong with you?” Invictus felt his hands warming as he yanked harder on Cal’s tunic.

Cal’s gasps became ragged and his eyes widened as suddenly it was much harder to breathe. “M-master Invictus - I c-can’t breathe!” he wheezed frantically as his feet kicked helplessly a few inches off the floor. “S-ser - _please!_ ”

“Don’t fucking ser me, do you have any idea how much worse you’ve made things?” Vic eased up when he realized how Cal was struggling to breathe. He dropped the boy to the floor harder than need be but he didn’t care. “Your father is already in a shit place because of all that happened, do you know what this will do to him when he realizes what you did? Do you Cal?” Vic asked in that low, dangerous tone he’d used as Champion. 

Cal scrambled to his knees and bowed his head, hunching over to make himself look smaller. “I’m sorry Master - I’m so sorry, I didn’t think! Forgive me - forgive me, Domne! I shouldn’t have done it but when he handed me the belt I just - I just - please, forgive me Domne!” 

“Maker damn it, not this.” Invictus picked Callus up and sat him on his bed a bit more gently than he’d let him drop to the floor. “Cal, you’re not a slave don’t ever call me that again do you understand?”

Cal dared to dart a glance up at him from behind his hair, then slowly nodded. “Yes, ser,” he replied quietly. 

“Look at me, because I am so not doing this with you. It's bad enough when your father goes back down that path. Why did you beat Arden?” Invictus asked as he tipped the younger elf’s chin up so he had to look him in the eye. 

Cal swallowed hard but met his gaze. “Can you honestly say you didn’t want to do the same, ser?” he asked. “I know my father did. I know how close he was to giving in and killing him. He nearly killed Master Zevran - _my_ master! And Master Anders might have died - and would have, if not for my sister’s quick thinking and Hal’s healing. And then after that, he would have just thrown Hal aside like - like a discarded toy he had no further use for, and I could see it was destroying Hal! Ser, if you’d been in my place - if you’d stood there and he’d handed you the belt and then kneeled, can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same?” He stared into Invictus’ eyes and saw a brief flicker of something. He pressed the point further. “He knew what he’d done. He’d come back to himself and he was practically begging me. Could you have turned away? Wouldn’t _you_ have wanted revenge - to punish him? Ser?”

Invictus hated to admit it but he knew Cal spoke the truth. “Yes, but...it wouldn’t have done anything Cal. Nothing good came of you beating him, did it? Did your father ever tell you how cruel I used to be, how I used to hunt mages with him in Kirkwall? You know what being cruel gets you? Absolutely nothing. You drank to sleep, hoping to avoid dreams, and even now you fear me enough to slip back into bowing like a slave, is that what you want Cal?” 

Cal blinked rapidly as he stared up at Invictus, unable to look away thanks to the older man’s grip on his chin. “H-he... he has a rope scar around his neck,” he said, his voice quieter and smaller. “He... he looked.... the scars, they, he looked like -” He broke off and swallowed again. “He looked like Master Anders. And he was bleeding, and I felt... Maker. That now I knew how templars must feel. I - I liked it. But now I feel... I feel dirty,” he confessed in a whisper. “I’m sorry ser. I’m so sorry.”  
Invictus took a deep breath before he lost his temper again with the boy. “Go check on your father and I’m going to work on Arden so he can at least have some healing before Hal sees him and flips out. You should talk to your father once he’s awake, maybe. He got pushed past his limits and so have I but someone has to be an adult around here until things get settled.” 

“I put salve on the cuts, and I made him take a healing potion,” said Cal hastily. “He didn’t want to, and he said someone gave him magebane. But I made him drink it anyway.”

“At least you did that much, I’m taking this belt and when your father is ...better he’ll discipline you. Be glad I’ve learned some self control since I was your age you’d be crying for more than mercy right now. Go on.” Vic snatched up the belt and pointed at the door so Cal could go ahead of him.

At the mention of discipline, Cal blanched, unable to tear his eyes away from the bloodied belt for a moment until he finally leapt up to obey.

Vic shut the door behind them and headed down to the spare room to check on Arden, hoping the other mage was awake if not sitting up. He tucked the belt into a drawer before he approached the bed. “Arden, are you awake?”

Arden lay very still. his back was one mass of fire, from shoulders down to the small of his back. He was certain his kidneys must be bruised and he’d be pissing blood for a week. His stomach was cramping painfully; even if he thought he was capable of moving, the thought the effort would likely make him puke. He could barely think straight for the pounding in his head. When he heard Invictus’ voice, he closed his eyes with a wince.

“If you’ve come to kill me, I think you would be doing me a favour,” he weakly joked.

“I think Cal nearly granted that wish. Hold still so I can work on you.” 

“Believe me - moving is absolutely the last thing I have any intentions of doing,” replied Arden with a grimace.

Invictus pulled up a chair and got to work, frowning as the magebane in Arden’s system pushed against his magic. He finally got most of the pain and inflammation eased to where the other man could turn over if he wanted or sit up with help. “You can turn over now, and maybe you should tell me why he beat you like this?”

Arden opened his eyes and blinked. He contemplated turning over, but he wasn’t sure how much of a good idea that might be, and elected to remain still.

“I’d say it seemed like a good idea at the time, but all my ideas lately seem to have been really, really bad ones,” he admitted. “Maybe the truth is that I think I was slowly coming to my senses and I realised I deserved it. He was there, he _wanted_ to do it. So... I let him.” He closed his eyes. “I think he stopped too soon. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to face Hal again, or make amends to Zevran - and Maker, I thought Anders was going to drop dead on the spot.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Invictus. “Why did you heal me? I don’t understand why you’re not simply picking up where Cal left off, because Maker knows you have more just cause to beat me even than he does. Zevran was his master - but he’s _your_ husband.”

Invictus pinched the bridge of his nose as he pondered Arden, and how pitiful the other mage looked. “Like I told Cal, nothing comes of it. Had you actually killed Zevran? Then you would be dust right now, and Leliana would be looking for a new Grand Enchanter. You caught yourself before you could kill him but you have done so much damage Arden, I would be more worried about me and Fenris than Zevran or Hal right now. You know just how cruel I can be when I put my mind to it. I’m getting more healing potions and then I’ll work on your back, then you will face Hal when he’s ready, understood?” 

“Leliana has no jurisdiction over the Colleges anymore,” Arden pointed out. “But I’m not so sure the Conclave won’t be voting on a new Grand Enchanter anyway. You know as well as I do that healing potions are almost useless when the patient has been dosed with magebane, and Fenris gave me enough to render me powerless for at least another day. But I almost wish you _would_ be cruel, Invictus, because I think I could take that better than this concern for my health right now. I - we were friends, and... and I’ve destroyed that. So... please don’t treat me with kindness, because I don’t think I can handle that right now, and I don’t deserve your care. Just... let me rest here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll make it to the inn in the village, and I won’t trouble you any more.”

Invictus gave him a sly grin as he leaned forward until he was almost nose to nose with Arden. “Oh no, you don’t get off that easy Hawke. You will stay here until Hal deals with you and don’t you fucking dare act like this is actually kindness, this is me being cruel. I learned long ago that hatred can be shown in more ways than striking someone with fists or magic. Its going to hurt you worse for being here and me caring for you, than you slinking off to lick your wounds at home or pretending you’re fine at the Conclave, which I’ll be taking you to as a...friend.” 

Arden blinked, and then answered Invictus’ smile with one of his own. “Yes. You _are_ cruel.” He held Invictus’ eye as he added slowly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for being creative, you’ll hate me even more before I’m done. Or I’ll let Fenris rip your head off, if Hal wants it. Be glad I’m the only one functioning now or I’d have cut your head off and skull fucked you until I was bored for what you did. Now stop talking, I’ll be back later.” Vic snarled at the other mage before backing away. 

Arden watched him as he moved towards the door, then slowly and painfully rolled over onto his side so that his scarred and lacerated back was towards Invictus. He curled up slightly, and Invictus caught a brief glimpse of the rope scar around his neck.

For a moment, it was Anders that Invictus saw in the bed, torn and bleeding, and Invictus felt his stomach lurch, queasily as he watched the blond man shudder in pain.

“Can we please get a break today, huh?” He asked as he headed down to his office for more potions and stitching kit. He hoped that neither Fenris or Hal went in before he got back because both of them falling apart at the same time on him was more than he could deal with. 

As he emerged from the office, he saw Marian gently leading Hal into the kitchen. The young redheaded mage still wore the same clothes he’d had on the previous night, though now they had grass stains on the legs, and the cuff of his left sleeve was muddy and damp. Hal looked as though he’d barely woken up; he was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Invictus came over once he was seated and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, how are you doing? Can I get you anything?”

“I’ve... had better days,” said Hal, his voice sounding a little distant. “But I think I’ve had worse days too. That last fight with Corypheus comes to mind. At least Zevran and Anders haven’t actually died. And... well... nor have I. So... I guess... doing better than then?” He turned and glanced at Invictus with his odd, mismatched eyes; their gaze seemed a little unfocused.

“I’ll be back in a bit, and I’ll run you a bath in the guest bedroom and find some clean clothes for you, then we’ll get you fed ok?” Vic said with a glance to Marian. “Can you actually start that bath for him? I might be a while if Fenris is up.” 

“Certainly, Master Invictus,” she nodded. She gave Hal a worried look, then headed of in the direction of the bathroom that led off from Arden’s room.

“Please just call me Invictus, no more of this Master shit from any of you.” Vic said as he rose to finish up with Arden and hope Fenris was both awake and aware.

He found Arden still lying there much as he’d left him. The blond man gave no sign of noticing when Invictus entered; he lay still, an occasional shudder running through him. His breathing would stutter each time it happened before evening out into a soft rasp.

Invictus locked the door, and set out his instruments before filling a basin for cleaning up as he worked. He tugged the bandages off without too much care for Arden before threading the needle and starting at his shoulders. “Make a sound and you’ll need more stitches when I’m done.” he threatened. 

Arden’s breath stuttered and then went silent as the blond man tensed. His hands curled into fists, and then he slowly exhaled. “Do what you have to,” he whispered.

At each jab of the needle into his flesh, Arden’s breath stuttered again; occasionally he gave a small gasp. At one particularly vicious jab, Invictus wasn’t certain he didn’t hear a faint whine that was instantly stifled.

“Good boy.” Vic said as he moved on to a new spot, he worked briskly with no gentleness at all until he was done. He took particular glee in making Arden whimper as he worked on the last one, tugging a bit too hard as he tied off the last stitch. It was a small sound, but Arden wasn’t quite able to hold it back. As Invictus stared down at his handiwork, he realised Arden’s body was sheened in sweat, and his breathing had become harsher. Shudders ran through him more frequently.

Invictus got a cool flannel to wipe the other mage down before letting healing magic glow between his palms. “A little more work on you, then you’re going to sleep this off.”

Arden flinched at the touch of the flannel before lying still, though Invictus could see the muscles of his back tensing at the mention of more work. He heard Arden swallow audibly, but the mage said nothing.

Invictus did what he could for the other mage, not being gentle as he worked over the scarring and damage he could feel as he went. Finally he leaned back and stared at Arden. “I’m done as much as I can be, you should sleep and when you get some fucking courage, come out and face Hal, Fenris and the rest of us.” 

Arden was silent, but after a moment, he nodded before slowly curling up. It had to have hurt, as the skin tautened and the stitches pulled. But Arden made no sound beyond a very faint gasp.

“You can speak to answer me. Am I putting you to sleep or will you stay the fuck in one place?” Vic asked as he gathered up his tools. 

Arden tucked his head further down. “Do as you wish to me; I won’t fight you,” he said dully.

Vic pitched the bag to the ground and yanked Arden the hair so he had to look at him. “Stop this meek act, you damn near killed Zevran with barely a thought, I know you’re not so sweet and soft. That’s it, get up, get dressed and I will bring Hal to face you if he can stand it. I’m sick of your simpering.” 

Arden cried out and then froze as he stared up at Invictus, his neck straining as he lay there, eyes widening. “It’s... it’s no act,” he gasped. “Please - don’t - don’t make me face Hal. If he sees me like this - I don’t care how much you hate me, hurt me all you like but please don’t hurt him!”

“Only to keep him from being hurt beyond what you did. You fucking disgust me, I wish Cal had finished what he started.” Invictus took his bag and left Arden to do what he wished, he only hoped that Hal was still in the bath if their former friend ran off like a coward.

Arden lay where Invictus had dropped him. He could feel blood seeping into the sheets beneath his back and feel the burn where several stitches must have torn. He blinked up at the ceiling and focused on calming his heart down. 

Invictus had no idea. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to Arden and Arden would have no choice but to submit - he was too weak and in pain to do anything else, and certainly not to fight it. He could no more have gotten up and walked out that door than he could have climbed the Frostbacks.

He closed his eyes, and hoped sleep would come easily; he feared it would not.

Invictus calmed himself before he returned to the parlor to find Fenris had woken up, made it to his usual chair and was staring at the fireplace blankly. He noticed Pin was trying to get a response from him with no luck. “Why doesn’t the Void just open under me right now?” he asked.

Pin glanced up. “Mas-” She checked herself. “Invictus, Father isn’t himself,” she said quietly, darting a worried glance at her father before looking back at him; he wondered if she’d overheard what he’d said to Marian about calling him master.

“He’s probably still upset over yesterday Pin. Would you be a dear and get him some tea and maybe some of the stew we had left from dinner? He hasn’t had much since last night. I’ll tend to him after I put this away.” Vic said with far more patience than he thought he had left. 

“Of course,” nodded Pin. “Would you like some tea as well?”

“Please, and can you make sure everyone else eats something for lunch? I’ll have to go to town for more food or send you and Garrett if you don’t mind?” Vic asked as he tossed his bag under the closest chair and went to Fenris.

“Garrett’s in the garden with Wynne I think; Marian is -” She broke off, and her voice changed. “Hello, Hal - are you feeling any better?”

“A little, thank you,” replied the redhead, his voice neutral as he entered the parlour. He was wearing a spare tunic of Anders’; it was a little on the large side for him and only served to make him look younger. 

Invictus went over to offer a hug, if Hal wanted it. He certainly looked like he needed it. “May I?”

Hal looked at him blankly for a moment, then walked into his arms and pressed himself against Invictus. “Please,” he murmured. He rested his head against Invictus’ shoulder as he felt strong arms embrace him, and gave a shuddering sigh. “Please tell me this is all a horrible dream,” he whispered. “Please tell me that I’ll walk into that bedroom and nothing will have happened; that Arden still loves me, that Anders and Zevran aren’t hurt. I know it will be a lie but - please, for a little while, let me believe that?”

“Sure if that’s what you need, it's all been a terrible, terrible dream Hal. I'm sorry for my part in it.” Invictus cradled the younger man in his arms and massaged the back of his head as he held him. “Come on, let’s sit for a little while ok?” 

Hal gave a choked sob, his arms tightening a little around Invictus. “I’m afraid,” he whispered. “I know what Arden will do to himself. And after what happened with Sebastian... Vic, he wasn’t himself. That... that wasn’t Arden. That was what Sebastian did to him. A year in solitary, at the hands of Sebastian’s butchers... He.... I am so afraid!”

“I know Hal, I know. Once everyone’s recovered a bit we can all talk about it. I think he’s going to be better once he’s had some sleep, you’ve had some food and more rest. Did you eat yet? If not, I’ll start on lunch for everyone.” Vic closed his eyes and tried to banish the image of Anders that leapt into his mind, afraid and alone in a cell once more.

“I couldn’t eat earlier,” Hal replied. “I don’t even remember going down to the willow pond. I just remember waking up as Marian shook me, and my sleeve was wet.” He shrugged.

“I think that may be for the best, honestly.” Vic sighed as Pin returned with a tray for them. “Come on, let Pin take you for more tea and I’ll be in shortly to keep you company.”

Pin gave him a friendly smile and Hal nodded before disentangling himself from Invictus. They headed off to the kitchen together, leaving Fenris and Invictus alone together.

Vic leaned over to look into Fenris’ eyes, concerned when the elf didn’t even shift his gaze to look at him. He ran a thumb over the other man’s cheek, and still got no response. “Fenris?”

The elf blinked, then slowly his eyes focused on Invictus. “...Vic?” His voice was a hoarse rumble.

“Oh thank Mythal, I thought you were still checked out.” Vic said softly. “Love, please tell me you know who I am and where you are right now.” 

Fenris smiled dreamily. “You’re Vic, of course. Where’s Malum?”

Invictus’ expression fell. “Malum died when we still lived in Kirkwall, remember love? Do you know where you are?” 

Fenris continued smiling, but slowly a look of disbelief crept over his face until the smile was a rictus. “No. Not Malum? He - he can’t be... Anders, where is Anders?”

“He’s sleeping, you woke up after he did. He’s ok, just tired we had a hard night. Everyone is kind of tired out, and you came out here and just flopped in your chair, I wanted to see how you’re doing.” Invictus wanted to haul Fenris out of the chair and hug him so he couldn’t see the panic that threatened to take over. 

Fenris was staring at him now, the smile gone. “Zevran,” he said slowly. “Zevran - he is... where is Zevran?”

“Asleep with Anders, love do you remember where we are?” Vic pleaded.

Fenris glanced around the parlour, and Invictus could see a look of confusion cross his face before his expression turned blank and he looked back at Invictus. “Arden,” he said flatly. “Where is Arden Hawke?”

“He’s in the guest room, why?” Vic asked as he reached for Fenris’ hands to keep him in place. 

Fenris shook his hands off as he rose to his feet. “Because I’m going to kill him,” replied Fenris flatly as he headed out of the room.

Invictus ran after Fenris and got in his way. “Fen, love.... Can we talk first? Because Hal is in the kitchen and feeling kind of fragile, I’m sure he could do with seeing you before you do anything rash. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you up and about, please?” Vic found himself flat against the door and Fenris in his face.

“You dare try to keep me from murdering him for nearly killing not just Zevran but also Anders? He spit in my face Vic, he was going to leave Hal like trash.” he hissed. He turned and threw open the door, shattering the lock, and strode in.

Arden was lying on his back exactly as Invictus had left him; as Fenris entered, his eyes snapped open and he turned his head to look at Fenris.

“Fenris, please don’t do this. I spent half this morning scolding Cal for beating him half to death. If not for you, think about what it will do to Hal. Please, I am begging you, that if you are going to kill him, do it only if Hal says so.” 

The elven warrior had let his claws extend and his eyes were dark, the pupils more like slits as when he was fully changed than an elf. He snarled as he listened to his husband, conflicted. 

Arden’s gaze was drawn to the claws. He stared at them for a moment, then slowly rolled over to turn his back to them. The bed was stained with his blood, and they could see where half the stitches had ripped open, Arden’s back still seeping blood from long whip cuts. Arden wrapped his hands around his head and slowly curled up. 

“Maker dammit,.” Vic swore as he saw the damage, unsure how the stitches had ripped open. 

Fenris backed up and sat against the door, letting his claws retract. The fight went out of him at the sight of Arden’s blood, and the bed. It was too much like Anders for him. “Looks like someone beat me to it.” 

“Your son,” replied Arden weakly. It was getting hard to think through the pain, and the cool air on the cuts made them burn all the more fiercely. He welcomed the pain; it drove out thought, allowed him to merely exist. His thoughts were narrowing down to simple concepts. “Belt,” he managed to get out. “C-claws,” he breathed. He closed his eyes, “Hurt,” he whispered.

“I think he wants pain…like I did last night. If he does? Don’t give it to him, let him suffer.” Fenris said as he got himself under control. “I’ll fix the lock, you … find something to do Vic.” 

Invictus stared at Arden and swore. “He never had food last night or today. I’ll fix him something can you… clean up and redo his stitches, maybe a little more gentle than I was?” Invictus dashed out to the kitchen muttering under his breath about failing Anders rather than Arden.

“Fenris?” slurred Arden. “Fenris... call Anders... is he working late in the clinic again? Justice drives him too hard....”

“He is, you’re tired and hungry” replied the elf with a sigh. He didn’t want to play along but the last thing he needed was Arden panicking and drawing Hal or Anders in to see him like that. “Come on, you need to wash up before he gets home, let me help you.” 

“Fenris... I’m thirsty, love,” sighed Arden. “So thirsty.”

“I know, I’ll get you some water in a bit. First you need to get washed up, we worked hard today.” the elf counted to ten in Trade and Tevene to keep from lashing out. “Get up and let me help you.”

“I... I don’t think I can,” responded Arden weakly. He flopped over onto his back then arched his spine with a gasp, his back on fire. “Fenris... help me,” he whimpered.

The fighter wanted nothing more than to leave Arden to his suffering but he knew that if he started screaming it would hurt Hal. So he helped him up and leaned him over the chaise so he could wash him off. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

Arden trembled as Fenris began carefully wiping him with a damp flannel, and then his knees gave way and he collapsed with his upper half across the chaise, his lower half upon the floor. “S-sorry, I’m sorry,” he slurred as he let his head drop onto the velvet surface.

Fenris breathed hard through his nose. It was hard, with Arden resembling Anders so much - and now more than ever. He was torn between the desire to rip into him with his claws... and draw his Anders to him, hold him safe, care for him. “Not my Anders... _not_ my Anders!” he muttered to himself.

Invictus returned as Fenris was stripping the bed and and swearing as he found the mattress was dotted with blood as well. “Thank the Maker you’re back, I need to get another cover for this. Can you get him fed?” 

Arden lay collapsed half over the chaise, faintly moaning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Invictus waited until Fenris had changed the bedding out and between the two of them they got Arden into bed with a tray over his lap. Fenris pitched the ruined sheets into a basket to deal with later while Vic got some broth and tea into the nearly insensate mage. Fenris paced as he waited for his husband to finish, until finally the blond enchanter had been cleaned up and put back to sleep.

“I’ll be back, we’ve got a spare set of locks in the cellar. Check on Hal.” Fenris snarled on his way out.

“Fuck this is bad.” Vic muttered as he pulled the door closed and finally made his way to the kitchen where Pin was warming soup and had already given Hal some of it and more tea. She saw the look on her father’s face, and let him pass without bothering him.

Hal was sipping his soup slowly, his face blank and his mismatched eyes dull and empty. He looked up as Invictus entered and Fenris passed through the kitchen, but then returned his gaze to his bowl of stew.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden needs help, a lot of it but no one can give it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Suicidal ideation, torture, violence, abuse. Unhealthy fantasies of death and beating, auto erotic asphyxiation and breathplay.
> 
> A very dark start to this chapter, and no one is dealing with things well.

Arden stared at the ceiling. 

He’d been locked in for several days. The Conclave would be meeting - and without him. Doubtless the College would be electing a new Grand Enchanter - after all, when word got out, he’d be viewed as unsuitable. Or maybe they’d just assumed he’d been killed en route? Jumped by bandits, maybe. That happened a lot these days, without the Inquisition around to keep down the bandits. An envoy from Montsimmard had died that way, four months back. Maybe they’d just assume he was dead.

He blinked. An insidious little idea was taking root. What if -

He slowly sat up. That was the answer. He knew Fenris would never finish what Callus had started. He refused to let Arden off that easily, and besides, he wouldn’t want to hurt Hal that way.

But if Arden slipped out quietly and disappeared in the woods, no-one would be the wiser. They would all assume he’d just run away, gone to ground like the coward they all knew him for.

They wouldn’t have to know.

He rose to his feet and slowly managed to limp towards the door. Movement was slow and painful; Fenris hadn’t been bothering to lock the door as it was obvious Arden wasn’t capable of going anywhere.

It was evening. Ellowynne was in bed; he’d heard Invictus going to read to her. The teens were all down in the village - he’d overheard them earlier talking about a dance; Fenris had made them promise to be back by midnight.

The elf was likely checking on Anders and Zevran. The Antivan had apparently woken up with no memory of Arden’s attack on him whatsoever; the others had been unsure what to tell him. He was still weak and only slowly recovering.

Arden took his staff and slowly limped through to the kitchen.

Hal was sitting at the kitchen table. He turned his head to look at Arden, then dropped his gaze as though disinterested. Arden felt a pang of regret. What love there’d been between them was evidently dead.

No reason now to linger then.

He said nothing as he slowly made his way across the kitchen, then let himself out of the back door.

Once outside, he set a punishing pace for himself as he headed off up the path that led towards the woods and the meadow clearing where they’d rescued Anders from Sebastian. It took him far longer to limp to the woods than they had run, then flown; what had taken mere minutes then took him nearly an hour now. It was full dark by the time he reached the woods. He stumbled on, not heeding the brambles that caught and tore at his clothes and skin. He paused as his over robe was caught on a branch. Shrugging, he left it there, continuing on in just his shirt and pants.

When he came to the meadow clearing, he paused for breath before heading across the meadow to the tree where Anders had nearly died. He was dully surprised to find the corpses of the dead soldiers and templars still scattered around, rotting now with their swords slowly rusting. Sebastian still lay where he had fallen, in his white armour, though his blue eyes had been pecked away by crows and his body was rotting and stank.

Arden slowly looked around himself. He’d come here with no real plan, but he was surrounded by all manner of sharp weapons. Surely there must be something suitable here with which to end his miserable existence.

He wandered around slowly then selected a knife at random. He stared at it for a long moment, then slowly got to his knees. Hesitantly, he pressed the edge of the knife to his throat.

He swallowed hard, suddenly afraid. He closed his eyes, then drew the knife swiftly across his throat.

The cut was shallow. It started to bleed, but it was only a minor wound at best. His hand shaking, he tried again. Then again.

He was sobbing with frustration; he could feel blood running wet and warm down his throat and soaking into his shirt, but it wasn’t enough; none of the wounds he’d managed to inflict were even halfway likely to prove fatal. He threw the blade away with a hoarse, ragged yell of despair and sobbed brokenly.

He managed to get to his feet and stumbled in despair. He’d failed at everything and now, it seemed, he was even a failure at dying.

His eyes fell upon a sword. Slowly, he bent and picked it up, and stared at it. Then he turned and walked to Sebastian’s corpse.

“Hello, Sebastian,” he said. “Do you remember you tried to kill me once? I tried to do it too, but I’m as useless at that as I am at everything else.”

The corpse said nothing.

“I was thinking, perhaps you’d like another go. Would you help me?”

He knelt down and planted the hilt of the sword in the ground and curled Sebastian’s dead hand around the hilt.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” he said quietly as he rose to his feet and stared down at the dead Prince. “You can have my blood again. You finally get to take my life. Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

He choked back a sob. “I - I hope it doesn’t hurt for very long,” he confessed. “But if it does, I - I guess I deserve that too.” 

Swallowing hard, he steeled himself, then closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall forward towards the point of the sword that was leveled at his stomach.

Fenris huffed as he ran for the clearing, angry that he had to track Arden down damn near in the middle of the night, his rage growing as he caught sight of the blond trying to fall on a blade. “Oh no you don’t.” he said before teleporting behind the mage and yanking him backwards and away from the sword.

“You….son...of a bitch. I had to run…” Fenris stopped to catch his breath as he he stared at the man he’d come to hate in a short time. “Don’t you dare.”

Arden had cried out as he felt himself yanked backwards, and now as he stared up at Fenris he gave an odd, hysterical chuckle. “Fenris. The last person I expected to see. Have you come to do the job yourself?” He stared into Fenris’ eyes, the laughter dying. “I’d welcome it,” he confessed. He gestured to his lacerated throat. “I tried to do the job myself but it seems I’ve botched that as much as I’ve botched everything else. But you could do it. In fact I’m _begging_ you to do it.” He swallowed hard, tears in his eyes. “Fenris. Kill me. Please.”

“No, you sniveling little shit. You are going to live, and suffer. You hear me? I am not giving you an easy way out because you lost yourself, and now want to wallow. I’ve been there Arden, it's hard to live, so very hard but you’re going to. Even if I have to carry you back and make you beg Hal for forgiveness.” 

“You don’t have to make it easy,” whispered Arden. “You could make it slow. As slow as I know you could make it. I don’t deserve to die quickly, do I? But if anyone deserves to make me pay for what I’d done, it’s you. Take your time. Take payment out of me in flesh, blood and pain. Kill me as slowly as you like; make me beg for it to be over. But please. Do it. make me pay for what I’ve done.” Tears began to roll down his cheeks. “Please, I’m begging you,” he whispered brokenly. “Just... make me suffer for what I’ve done. Hurt me. I don’t understand why you won’t kill me. You want to. I _know_ you want to. I can see it in your eyes. No-one has to know - they’ll think I just skulked off like the coward I am. No-one will notice one more corpse here amongst all the others.”

The more Arden spoke, the more Fenris felt horrified and repulsed. He killed out of necessity, not because he enjoyed it. He gagged a bit as he backed away from the weakened mage before him. He was stunned at the way the blond seemed almost...ecstatic at the idea of being slowly murdered. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered.

Arden gave him a ghastly grin. “I’m sick, Fenris. Very sick.” He tapped the side of his head. “In here. I’ve been sick a long time. Someone should have slit my throat a long time ago - just put me down like a rabid dog.” His tone turned almost conversational as he gestured to the slashes across his throat. “I tried to do the job myself but, well.” He dropped to his knees and pulled open his shirt. “You could do the job so much more efficiently. Those wonderful claws of yours. You’d be doing the world a favour, really, wouldn’t you, hmm?” He grinned.

This was not what the warrior had expected when he’d dashed out of the house upon finding the guest bedroom wide open. At worst, he’d thought the mage would have collapsed somewhere from his slowly healing injuries. This, this was more than he could handle. “You...you’re going to get up and come back and Maker...you’re going to sleep and I’m going to get drunk. Tomorrow, when I’m not ...when I can talk, we’re going to talk and not do this. Do you hear yourself, Arden? You sound happy about death, and dying at my hand. This isn’t right, why...why are you saying these things?” Fenris realized he was shaken, his mind racing on what to do with Arden to get him back and drugged, or knocked out so they could stop talking like this.

Arden tilted his head to one side as he stared at Fenris. “You fucked me once, Fenris. Remember? You fucked my brains out - you and Invictus. You put your hands around my neck - do your remember?” As Fenris jerked, eyes widening, Arden grinned. “You _do_ remember! You choked me a little, just enough to stop my breath a few seconds, and I came so fucking hard.” He smiled at the memory. “I’ve fantasised about that night for years. Dreamed about it as I was beating myself off - except in the fantasies, you slowly strangle me to death. Maker, that’s so damned hot.”

His cheeks were flushed as he stared at Fenris. “I’ll let you do it to me now, if you like. What do you say, hmm? One last hatefuck. Fuck my ass raw then send me on my way to the Void.”

“I have never felt less like sex in my life, even as a slave than I do now.” Fenris said as he stared at Arden in horror. “You need help, more than I can ever give you.” he said as he continued to stare at Arden, almost afraid the other man might try to get him to commit such a depravity upon him. “The things I’ve seen in Tevinter...how could you even say that to me?” he whispered.

“So, that’s a no then?” said Arden in a disappointed tone. “Ah well.” He glanced down at the bloodstained front of his shirt and ran his hands down it as though only just noticing it. “Huh. I made quite a mess of myself, didn’t I?” he mused as his hands reached his belt before he glanced up at Fenris.

“Goodbye, Fenris,” he smiled, as he pulled out his belt knife and drove it hard into his stomach.

He grunted, and stared down at the blood welling around the blade as he went white. “F-fuck,” he managed to gasp. “Oh, fuck. Hurts. I....” He looked up at Fenris with the expression of a man who had just realised they’d made a huge mistake. He made a faint whining sound then curled in upon himself as he pitched forward to writhe slowly in agony.

Fenris snapped back to himself when Arden toppled over, scooping him up and teleporting back home, calling for Hal or anyone to help him. He laid the blond out on the floor, panicking as blood continued to well up and out of the wound. 

Arden was hyperventilating and shaking, eyes wide and unseeing as he writhed in agony. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he was panting faintly.

Hal jumped to his feet, startled, and then screamed as he stared at the blood and the knife. He threw himself down on his knees beside Arden and stared down at the wound horrified.

Arden swallowed. “Hal. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I, I’ve made a bad mistake,” he managed to get out, his voice high and panicky. “Hal, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - fuck, fuck fuck it hurts so bad!” He closed his eyes. “Maker, why does it hurt so much?”

“You stabbed yourself in the gut you stupid fuck.” Fenris replied before stumbling back and letting Hal get in to work. He noticed the blood on his hands and clothes as he sat down and he kept shaking. He looked at his hands then at Arden, still mortified by what the other man had said. “Get...Vic, I think… I need help.” 

Hal stared at the blood soaking through Arden’s clothes; the blond mage was shuddering, his breath coming in frightened, agonised pants. “Vic? _Vic!_ ” Hal screamed.

Invictus ran into the parlor, unsure who to go to first. “What in the Void happened here?” he asked Hal.

Hal was reaching a shaking hand out to Arden but hesitating, as though afraid to touch him, as he threaded his other hand into his own hair. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” whimpered Hal, and Invictus realised the young mage was panicking and barely this side of hysterical. “Arden, he - Arden!”

The blond mage stared up at Invictus, his body shuddering. From the pale, waxy look of his face, Invictus could tell Arden was going into shock. “Vic,” he gasped, and tried to smile; the effect was ghastly. “I’ve done something very stupid. Seems....seems to be a habit of mine. I’m sorry, I think I’m bleeding on your carpet....” 

“Shut it.” Vic snapped as he checked the wound. “Hal, I need you to calm down, so when I pull this out you can heal him, can you do that?”

Hal was hyperventilating, but he swallowed hard and nodded, trying to will himself to calm down by sheer thought. “Do it.” He managed to call healing magic to his hands.

Arden screamed as Invictus pulled out the knife, then lay still, shuddering, eyes wide and staring blankly at the ceiling as Hal pressed his glowing hands against the wound. Slowly Arden’s eyes closed and at last he fell limp. 

“Vic...help me please.” Fenris asked as he stared at his bloody hands. “He...he said such terrible things Vic. I want his blood off me, I need to get clean.” 

Invictus moved over to the elf and crouched down so he was blocking Fenris’ view of the unconscious mage and Hal. “OK, Fenris,” he said soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you up and into the bath, alright? He’s not saying anything now. And he’s not going to say those things to you again. Come on - that’s it, up we come.” He helped Fenris to his feet. “I’m going to gag him when Hal’s finished, and then I’m going to put him in the guest room and you won’t have to look at him at all, OK?”

Hal glanced up at Invictus, still healing. “I’ll gag him,” he said, his voice distant as he concentrated on what he was doing. “I’ll gag him and tie him up. You won’t have to touch him.”

“Good,” snarled Invictus. He turned away and gently guided Fenris to the bathroom where he sat the trembling elf down and filled a bucket so he could start to sluice the blood off Fenris’ hands.

Fenris fell silent as Invictus took care of him, though he continued to stare blankly ahead and shudder as he thought about the things Arden had said. He’d never realised how dark the other man’s mind was. He choked back a sob at the idea of ever trying to choke Anders again, it wouldn’t work he’d just hear that damn conversation. 

He realised Invictus had been calling his name gently for some time. “Fen? Are you still with me Fen? The bath’s ready. Come on, love, you’re checking out on me and it’s got me scared. Stay with me, Fen.”

“Why, why should I stay?” Fenris asked quietly as he felt a tug at his hands. “I ...can’t Vic, why would he say those things to me?” the elf stared at Invictus before he dropped his gaze to the floor as his husband tried to get him up and into the tub.

Invictus frowned. “What things, Fen?” He crouched down in front of the elf, holding his hands. “What did he say, Fen?”

“I can’t repeat them!” Fenris said before curling back in on himself. “Please don’t make me.”

Invictus’ expression grew dark. “Alright, Fen,” he said softly. “I won’t make you. But I _will_ make _him_ tell me. But don’t you worry about that. He’s not here, and he can’t touch you.”

Invictus resolved that he would be having a very intense conversation with Arden once Hal had finished with him. One that would likely result in a lot of pain for Arden and a great deal of satisfaction for Invictus. He’d had quite a lot of practice at getting answers out of captured apostates once, after all, and he’d always delivered them to Meredith with unbroken skin. He’d taken pride in that. He’d never cared what happened to them afterwards until he’d met Arden, ironically enough. He was looking forward to introducing Arden to some of his techniques. Up close and personal.

“Vicky, help me clean up please?” Fenris asked with a nod to the tub. He really wanted a bath but didn’t trust himself to get in without slipping and cracking his fool head open. He felt detached from things almost, and it was better than the horror that clawed at him at Arden’s words.

Invictus was as gentle with Fenris as he would have been with Ellowynne, helping him in gently and sponging him down. He washed Fenris’ hair diligently yet with a light touch, and he kept his voice calm and gentle, hiding the fierce cold anger he felt burning within.

Fenris leaned into his touch, almost nuzzling against Vic’s hand as he relaxed and his shaking ceased. He rested his cheek against the edge and took one of Vic’s hands in his. “I love you, thank you.” the elven fighter said quietly, his eyes half open as he felt a gentle touch to his head. 

“And I love you too, Fenris,” murmured Invictus as he stroked the soft white hair. “I love you so much.”

“I’m not a bad person am I? He… begged me to kill him, I cared about him once, and he hurt us Vicky. He nearly took Zev and Anders from us. He was going to kill himself and I stopped him, but he wants it like a templar wants lyrium, there’s something really wrong with him. But the things he said, I could never...Maker, Vic.” Fenris’ voice shook again as he felt tears falling and he turned to the other man for comfort.

“He’s fucked in the head, Fenris,” said Invictus. “It’s not your fault. Fuck, he _gave_ himself to that butcher Alrik once, from what Hal once told me and from what he said himself. How fucked is that? He was messed up a long time ago. Fuck knows how far back. It’s not your fault, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“Ok Vic...ok.” Fenris pulled away to dunk his head under the water a last time before sitting back and staring at the ceiling. “If I ever get that dark, if I ever seem like I’m that gone, take care of me. I never, ever want to put another person through what I dealt with tonight.”

“Fen, you’ll never be like that. There’s a dark side in you but it’s nothing like that,” murmured Invictus. “Come on, let’s get you out of this water; it’s getting cold. Let me get you into bed with Anders and Zev, yeah?”

“OK,” nodded Fenris.

Invictus got the elf out of the tub and rubbed him down with a clean towel to dry him, before gently drying his hair. He led him through to the bedroom where he got him settled between the sleeping Anders and Zevran, then gently kissed him. Fenris’ eyes were already heavy, after the trauma of the evening followed by the long, hot bath.

Invictus left him sleeping and then stalked along the hall to the guest room. Hal was leaning against the door, waiting; as Invictus approached, he held out the door key.

“He’s bound and gagged on the bed and he is whole and well,” the young mage said. He looked exhausted, with a brittle brightness about his eyes that told Vic Hal had taken lyrium to finish the healing. Invictus took the key as Hal went on. 

“He’ll be waking up shortly. Do what you must to him. But don’t do it here. And I don’t want to hear it. I’m going down to the willow pond. Come and find me there when you’ve finished with him.” 

“Hal... what are you saying?” asked Invictus slowly.

Hal clenched his fists by his sides. “I’m saying I’m done. I’ve reached my limit. I can’t help him any more, and after what he did to Zevran and now Fenris?” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t. Not any more. So do what you must. All I ask is that if you kill him, don’t....” He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Don’t tell me. I just never want to lay eyes on him again. I want to remember him as he was, not how he is now. And if that makes me a coward... well, I’ll live with that.”

“As you wish, maybe you should go in and sleep with the others, Fenris is finally down and Anders is exhausted as was Zev. I’ll go to the woodshed, and keep him gagged.” Vic reached out to the younger mage, sad at what he’d lost. “For what it's worth, I’m so sorry.”

Hal smiled sadly. “So am I,” he replied. he lowered his head and walked away in the direction of their bedroom, leaving Invictus alone before the door.

“What a Maker damned mess this week has been.” Vic said as he waited for Hal to turn the corner before going in to greet Arden with a terrible grin for what he was going to do to the other mage. “I guess you think I’m going to kill you, but you’re so, so wrong. What I’m going to do is worse.”

Arden opened his eyes and stared up at Invictus. He’d been stripped down to his pants and was barefoot, mouth firmly gagged and his arms bound behind his back. Several lengths of rope had been left lying nearby - possibly left over from when Fenris had tied him to the bed several days before. 

The blond mage was regarding Invictus silently, not moving, a wary look in his eyes.

Invictus hauled him up by the rope and grabbed the other rope, looping it around his arm. “We’re going to the woodshed, it’s where I keep the tools, even the ones I rarely use anymore. Walk.” 

Arden made no attempt to pull away, docilely walking to the woodshed. As Invictus pulled the door open and lit the oil lamps, Arden walked into the middle of the space then halted to glance around. He stared at the tools hanging on nails on the walls, at the large heavy workbench, the vices for gripping things, and then he slowly turned to look at Invictus as the other mage firmly locked the door then turned back to him.

Invictus left him standing there as he pulled down the clamps and vices, even rooting around in his old tools for a couple of fine blades and a vial of magebane, which he handled very carefully until he’d pulled on gloves. 

“Arden...remember when we first met? How you saw my cruelty? Just nod, that gag isn’t coming out, no one is going to hear you but me.” Vic said as he considered the rope and grinned as he got an idea. 

Arden nodded. His eyes were starting to dart around nervously - to the tools on the walls, the workbench, the heavy vice at groin height, the rope still coiled in Invictus’ hands, and finally back to Invictus himself as he swallowed hard. He was drooling slightly around the gag.

“That was nothing compared to what I plan to do to you.” Vic snarled before slugged Arden hard in the face, pleased when he fell at his feet. “That was for Fenris, for tonight.”

Arden had been knocked backwards and fallen heavily, unable to catch himself with his arms bound behind his back. He slowly rolled onto his side then managed to struggle to his feet. He was breathing heavily through his nose, one eye purpling and half-closed. He turned to face Invictus again.

“No one said you could stand, mage.” Vic hissed before using Force magic to put Arden down again. “You will not enjoy this you sick fuck. You’re going to hurt.”

Arden went to his knees; his grunt was muffled by the gag. His chest was heaving now as he panted through his nose. He lifted his head to watch Invictus.

“That’s better, stay down dog.” Vic said as he got the other rope and quickly released Arden’s hands only to tie them together in front of him, and looped another length around so he could lash it to one of the beams. He pulled until Arden’s toes barely scraped the floor, and his arms held up painfully. 

“So many things I can do to you...not enough to kill, I’m not giving you what you want. I am going to hurt you, in a very not fun way.” Vic said as he cracked his knuckles while walking around Arden. “So much time, so many fun things to play with.” he muttered before picking up a metal rod, heavy enough to hurt but not break anything, depending on how hard he swung. He put it back down, not ready for that kind of hurt, yet. 

Instead he grinned as he noticed where the vice was and yanked the other man’s pants down to his knees. He lowered him down from the beam then he nudged him forward.

“Put your cock in the vice,” he ordered.

Arden darted him a shocked glance, as though uncertain he’d heard correctly.

“You heard me. Do it,” ordered Invictus.

Arden swallowed hard, but moved forward until his cock was laying in the teeth of the vice. He glanced at Invictus as the other mage grinned and began to turn the handle of the vice slowly; Arden’s breath came panting, more and more frantic as the vice closed on his flesh and squeezed, tightening slowly, Invictus savoring the look on Arden’s face as he kept going.

Arden’s face contorted in pain and he began to try and beg, muffled by the gag as tears sprang up in his eyes until he was trying to scream.

Invictus leaned back and grinned evilly, pleased with how he’d already worked the other man up and he’d barely begun. He picked up the spade he’d used a few days before, still coated lightly in dirt as he moved behind Arden. “I thought you liked pain, I thought you liked the idea of slow torture.” he whispered in the blond’s ear before reaching back and slapping the barely healed cuts with the flat of the spade. “It’s going to burn when they open, and that field dirt gets in there.”

Arden jerked involuntarily and then screamed behind the gag, his voice trailing off raggedly as he panted hard. He spread his legs a little to brace himself, then slowly nodded.

“Oh no you don’t, you don’t get to get off on this. Don’t beg for it. You will hurt.” Invictus said as he said before stepping back to really get into smacking, sure to hit the stitches, and some spots repeatedly as he hit the blond over and over. 

Arden arched his back, screaming and sobbing around the gag. His hands were clenched into fists as they hung, bound, in front of him, but he made no attempt to struggle.

Vic dropped the spade once he saw how Arden was sobbing, gratified at the muffled screams. “You can’t help yourself, look at you spreading even as I try to beat you half to death.” The other mage looked around for something to keep Arden from getting further ideas or Maker take him, actually enjoying the pain.

Arden had hunched over as Vic stopped; all the stitches in his back had ripped free and blood was running down his back through the dirt from the spade and dripping down his legs. The blond mage was panting hard and shuddering, eyes wide in pain. As he heard Invictus moving around behind him, he tried to look over his shoulder, a fearful look in his eyes.

Invictus was frustrated at not having something he could use at his fingertips. “I’d use the handle of the spade, that would stop you from squirming. Too much like that bastard who you gave yourself to though.” He stood up to see Arden was shaking his head no, almost frantic as he sobbed behind the gag. He stared at the blond, unsure what he could want.

“If I take the gag off you and you scream, I’ll cut your tongue out.” Vic said as he reached behind to loosen the knot.

Arden coughed as the gag was removed, then gasped for breath. “Please - I - I swear I’m not trying to get off. I _won’t_. That - Maker - I swear I’ll keep still. Don’t - don’t rape me, not like that, not with that, _please!_ ” The terror and dread in his eyes was too real to be an act.

Invictus grunted as he moved forward and put Ardens arms back up and released his cock from the vice. He wasn’t done but he did want answers before continuing. “I’m not a monster, I won’t do that to you. You will tell me what you said to make Fenris react like that.” Vic coiled a length of rope around his hand and swung it as he went in a circle. He waited until he was almost past the other mage’s back before swinging hard and fast to slap his open wounds. “Well, talk.”

Arden couldn’t help it. His back arched reflexively and he screamed, toes scrabbling wildly for the floor as he was swung by the force of the blow. The scream died to agonised sobbing as hot wet blood dripped quietly onto the floor. He was heaving for breath and began to babble apologies. “I’m sorry I screamed, I’m so sorry - I’ll talk, please, let me talk!”

“Stop screaming, I’ve already got a headache.” Vic said as he paused in front of Arden and he tilted his head at the mage’s begging. “So talk.”

He smiled sadly and tearfully. “You’re going to want to kill me when I’ve told you,” he managed, between gasps. “I told - told Fenris. I _told_ him I’m sick. I - I asked him to kill me slowly. To draw it out. And he said he wouldn’t - I wanted to feel his claws. I... I reminded him of how you and he fucked me once, how he put his hands round my neck, and -” He sobbed, biting his lip. “I asked him to fuck me and strangle me to death whilst he did it.” As Invictus’ face darkened, he shook his head. “I - there’s nothing I can say to make anything better. And I can’t stop you doing this. So - if you’re going to beat me to death.... so be it. Maybe you’d better gag me. Because... this fucking hurts, and I think my arms are dislocating, and I don’t think I’ll be able to not scream if you hit me again.” He stared down at Invictus, a look of dread in his eyes.

 

“I’m not killing you, only because Hal asked me not to. But you will wish you were dead before I'm done.” Vic said as he lowered the mage’s arms.

“Cock, back in the vice.” Invictus was stone faced as Arden obeyed, then he gagged him, tying his arms behind him again. “You hurt my heart, my love with your sickness. Now I’m going to do the same to you.”

Arden turned his head to stare at him, a look of incomprehension in his eyes as he saw the other mage reach for an old dusty box which he set on the end of the workbench.

“I miss these things, I thought I was a better man now, but I guess I’m not. Once a cruel bastard and all that.” Vic said as he rifled through the implements pulling out a couple of things, including a collar. He grinned viciously at Arden before buckling it around the mage’s neck and popping open a vial full of thick, green poison. 

“Open up, time for a bit of prevention.” Vic ripped the gag off and pried his mouth open to pour half the vial down Arden’s throat. “Swallow so I can gag you again.”

He retched as the thick oily magebane hit the back of his throat; Invictus clamped his hand over Arden’s mouth and pinched his nostrils closed so he couldn’t spew it out again. For the first time, Arden actually struggled briefly before finally swallowing as he closed his eyes.

Invictus put the gag back, tugging harder than needed before he gestured at Arden’s throat to enclose it with Force magic, eager to choke him but not give him anything for it. He considered what to do as the blond jerked, then swore as he tugged against the vice holding his cock. 

Arden was struggling to breathe, his eyes wide as he struggled. He was aware of the pain in his groin but it was overwhelmed by the desperate struggle to draw breath as his eyes bulged, staring at Invictus in naked terror as he struggled until Invictus was forced to throw a loop of Force magic around him, holding him in place. He could see from the way Arden’s lips worked around the gag that the blond mage was silently trying to scream.

Invictus went behind the other mage, and pressed two fingers at the top of Arden’s ass, letting an arc of electricity go through him before pressing two fingers at his entrance and repeating the move. He smiled at the shriek that was barely muffled by the gag, as he waited, and repeated it until Arden was sobbing brokenly. “Though you liked the electricity trick?”

Arden’s chest heaved between sobs. His whole body convulsed again as Invictus sent another bolt through him, tearing another scream from his raw throat. He made a sound behind the gag that might have been a muffled “fuck you”.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if Fenris’ life depended on it.” Vic said before letting another bolt loose inside the other mage. He circled back to watch the way Arden tried to buck against his force magic. “I’m going to let you down and you can leave, crawl away I don’t fucking care. But Hal wants to remember you fondly, not as this shell you are now. If I ever think you’re near our home again? I will flay you, after Fenris has killed you so you get nothing from it. I’d skull fuck your corpse just to get even. But its late, I’m exhausted and frankly you’ve worn me out. I don’t care how you leave, just go.”

As Invictus ungagged him, Arden gasped raggedly, his breath stuttering. He said nothing; when Invictus untied his arms, they fell limply by his sides. As his cock was released and Invictus dispelled his Force magic, he collapsed to the floor.

“You’re so pathetic.” Invictus yanked his pants up and dragged Arden outside so he could open a portal. He smiled as he thought of a perfect place to send him, back to Cumberland. He opened a portal and laughed as he kicked the blond mage while he lay there. “Go on home, go.”

Arden lay still on the floor of the empty Conclave chamber for a moment, then began to crawl slowly away from Invictus, the blood from his lacerated back smearing on the pristine white marble floor as he dragged himself slowly, painfully away from the other mage.

Invictus watched for a while before closing the portal, and turned to clean up the mess he’d made of the woodshed. He decided to let it wait, locking the door before heading into the house and cleaning his body, even if his mind wouldn’t settle.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Character death, emotional trauma,

Hal had no idea where Arden had gone, after the dreadful business of a couple of days ago. He knew that he had been sent on his way, but he didn’t ask Invictus for details, and Invictus said nothing.

They settled into something of a new routine. Invictus settled Hal into the other guest room then stripped the room Arden had used. He was in the middle of washing the sheets and bedding when he heard Dorian’s panicked voice coming from outside.

“Fenris? Invictus! Anders, Zevran - Maker’s sakes, please tell me you’re not dead!” He began banging upon the door frantically. “ _Venhedis_ , the children...!”

The elven warrior opened the door and caught Dorian’s hand before he could slap him. “What in the Void is your problem? I was taking a nap.”

“Hal,” Dorian gasped out. “Hal is missing, and Arden’s been the victim of a brutal attempted murder. He was found half-dead, collapsed in the Conclave chamber. We don’t know how he got there but there’s rumours of another attempted Qunari invasion.”

Fenris tugged him inside and shut the door, pushing Dorian into the parlor where Hal was reading with Ellowynne and Zevran had fallen asleep in the warrior’s favorite chair. “See, he’s not missing and Arden Hawke is a dead man to us. What did he tell you?” 

Dorian stared at Hal in bewilderment as the young mage raised his head to glance at him.

“Nothing. He’d been in a coma since he was found,” the Tevinter magister answered slowly. He turned and glanced again at Zevran. “ _Amicus_... Zevran’s looking very pale. And... what has happened to his leg?” he added, his eyes drawn to the bandage around his knee. he glanced back at Hal, who was still regarding him with eery calm.

Instead of speaking, Fenris pointed to the damaged wall and folded his arms. “Your Grand Enchanter did that. No one in this house gives a damn if Arden Hawke lives or dies, let him rot in his coma forever.” the elf snarled before taking a seat.

“As for the mysterious assailant, it's no mystery Dorian.” Vic said as he entered, passing off the laundry to Hal who passed the book to Ellowynne then rose, accepting it with a silent nod then left the room.

“And... Anders?” Dorian asked, quieter, obviously shaken.

“Asleep, the shock nearly killed him, again and he’s been on the mend ever since.” Vic said as he sat next to his first love and motioned to the chaise. “Sit, you look a bit pale.”

Dorian sank down onto the chaise and stared at them both. “What -” He cleared his throat. “What happened, if I may ask?” he asked quietly.

“He tried to kill Uncle Zevran,” Ellowynne piped up unexpectedly. “He threw him into a wall with Force magic and tried to kill him, and then he told Hal he didn’t want him any more, and Daddy’s heart broke and he had a heart attack and nearly died and I _HATE ARDEN HAWKE!_ ” she suddenly shouted. Dorian flinched.

Zevran awoke and jerked upright, reaching for a knife before he checked his instinctive throw. He groaned as he sank back into the chair. “Little one, it is not good to startle me awake,” he chided weakly, then coughed and winced.

“Wynne, inside voice please.” Fenris asked quietly before leaning over to put a blanket back over Zevran. 

Invictus offered a hug to the girl so she wouldn’t shout like that again and frankly startle him. 

“Sorry Uncle Zevran, Uncle Fenris,” she said, contritely.

Dorian was regarding her with a horrified expression. “ _Venhedis_... but... I don’t understand. You’ve all been friends for years and I can’t imagine Arden Hawke behaving like that - it seems completely out of character. Everything seemed fine when Meneris and I left!”

Fenris glanced at Ellowynne then rose, indicating Dorian should follow upstairs so he could explain. There were some things the girl didn’t need to know about her “uncles”. He poured a glass of red for each of them before explaining what had happened, why Arden apparently snapped. “I had felt bad about it, until he tried to kill Zev.” 

Dorian ran a hand slowly over his face and groaned. “He’ll have to be replaced as Grand Enchanter - assuming he survives; as I understand it, it could be pretty touch and go. Am I to understand Invictus had something to do with that?”

“I went to bed, he could have, he could have just left him to his own devices. I no longer care what happens to Arden.” Fenris replied cooly, his gaze flat, almost cold as he stared at his friend. 

Dorian halted in the act of reaching for his wine glass, chilled by the unfriendly way Fenris was regarding him. “Fenris... I’m simply pointing out there are going to be very serious repercussions from this,” he said quietly. “Right now, I’m the only person apart from you lot and Arden himself who know what happened. It’s quite obvious that Invictus has a bloody good idea of how Arden came to be in that state, and I can put two and two together and work out it was no Qunari invader who did that to him. I can recognise Force and Primal magic as well as any other mage, and I can recognise when they’ve been used on someone.”

“Then they figure it out, and we explain as best we can, it doesn’t matter Dorian. We’re all broken by this, I can’t sleep through the night without help, Zevran may never walk without a limp again and Hal has lost two people who supposedly loved him in his short life. Anders nearly died in Vic’s arm’s again.” He sipped his wine and continued to stare at Dorian. “My family is everything to me, and if I have to kill to protect them I will, or in in Arden’s case won’t take his life.”

“I fully appreciate that, _amicus_ ,” said Dorian gently. “But if they find out it was Invictus -”

“Are you threatening my husband?” Fenris asked simply as he leaned back and regarded the magister.

“I? No,” replied Dorian. “But there will be trouble for Invictus when he’s found out -”

The mage’s next words were cut off as the elf leaned forward and started to press his hand into Dorian’s chest. “You are my friend, and I love you as one, maybe a bit more. But you will not tell another soul about this, or Vic’s involvement. If he confesses, then he does. But this will not be your story to tell, am I clear _amicus_?” Fenris still regarded him blankly as he let his fingers almost brush the other man’s heart.

Dorian’s eyes widened in shock and he gave a soft, pained gasp as his body shuddered around Fenris’ hand. The magister seemed to be attempting to speak but couldn’t get anything out; he nodded jerkily as his body trembled.

Fenris leaned back and let his markings dim, refreshing the other man’s wine as if nothing had occurred. “Thank you for understanding, its been a trying time and really, do you want to see what would happen if templars showed up to arrest Vic? No one wants that Dorian, believe me.”

Dorian had collapsed back into his chair, his face looking grey and his eyes closed as he gasped for breath. 

“Fen- Fenris -” he managed to get out then groaned.

“Yes, Dorian? Do you need help?” Fenris asked as he leaned forward and pulled the magister to him. “What’s the matter _amicus_?” 

“ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” Dorian murmured weakly. “I swear you’ve half killed me.”

“Better than fully killing you, as Meneris would be rather put out with me I imagine.” Fenris said as he shifted to hold Dorian. “Should I call for help?” 

Dorian managed to shake his head. “No... just let me rest a moment... I felt my heart actually stutter. Horrible feeling. I’ve never felt such agony before.” He closed his eyes. “I thought I was dying.”

“I’m sorry, I barely reached in so I thought it was more of a warning than coming close to harming you. Forgive me eventually?” Fenris said quietly as he closed his eyes and cuddled against Dorian as a way to apologize. 

“You’re forgiven, _amicus_ ,” murmured Dorian. “But I’m in no fit state to return to Skyhold tonight. I’ll say nothing of this to Meneris. I must let him know Hal is safe, but I’ll tell him I miscalculated with my portal or some such. He’ll not ask further, of that I’m certain - though doubtless I shall get a lecture when I return.”

“Vic can send you back if you need to go, or the other guest room is free for now.” Fenris still sounded wrong, like there was nothing left in him besides meeting basic needs and forcing himself out of bed. 

“I’m not sure Meneris wouldn’t guess there’s more to this than a simple mishap if he were to lay eyes on me right now,” replied Dorian. “Maker, I feel weak as a kitten right now. How is it that you’ve reduced me to this with a touch?” He groaned. 

“Sorry it’s not the usual kind of touch we share Dorian. That’s been the last thing on my mind lately.” Fenris admitted as he reached up and started carding his fingers through the mages hair. 

“Pity,” Dorian sighed. “I’ve missed your cock, _amicus_ , and it’s been far too long since I felt it. Your husbands have had it all to themselves since your wonderful increase in size, and I’ve been quite pining for it.” He managed a small smile.

Fenris laughed bitterly at that then realized how it might come across. “Not laughing at you Dorian, just...you heard what caused him to snap. Besides, lately I’ve been more in a receiving mood than giving. I just want to not think as much as possible.” the elf said as he continued to card through the dark locks, gone longer since in the days past the Inquisition.

“I don’t suppose I could beg you to indulge me, if I offer to reciprocate after I’ve had a chance to rest and recover?” Dorian murmured hopefully.

“I suppose, let me tell Vic so we won’t be disturbed.” Fenris untangled himself to go downstairs quickly, and returned with a bottle of oil and a nervous smile. “A silence spell, the children are home after all.”

Dorian complied with a wave of his hand then began to strip out of his clothes. “How would you like me, _amicus_? I would rather like a chance to taste that marvellous cock of yours before you put it to good use inside me.” He cast a heated glance at Fenris’ crotch.

The elf tilted his head, curious about the other man’s eagerness before he stripped and sat back so Dorian could see him, half hard, twitching against his leg. “All yours Dori.” 

Dorian blinked, mildly thrown to hear Meneris’ diminutive for him coming from Fenris’ lips. As he turned back to stare at Fenris the light fell on a particular scar on Dorian’s left hip that seemed rather raw, fresh and new. It looked like a sword wound; as though Dorian had been stabbed, and recently, too. Dorian turned to see a thoughtful look on Fenris’ face, and he paused. “What?” asked the magister.

“What’s that from?” the elf asked as he looked up at his friend. “You didn’t have that when you were last here.” 

Dorian shrugged. “Small skirmish on the Nevarra-Tevinter border,” he replied. “Just another tiresome assassination attempt. They had the luck to catch me on my own before Meneris could join me. I don’t take him with me into Tevinter, you know that.”

The warrior looked concerned as he glanced up at the magister. “I could help you know, but we can talk about it later.” Fenris kissed his hip and laid back, wondering if Dorian would ride or wanted to get nailed like the last time they’d gotten together. 

“Meneris thankfully got there in time to take them down; they just got a lucky blow in first. Magebane of course, which is why the healers had such a bugger of a time closing it. All good now though, so don’t feel you need to hold back on me, _amicus_ ,” he added with a smile. 

He took a step towards Fenris then stumbled slightly, lifting a hand to his forehead. “Oh,” he said faintly. “I suddenly feel rather dizzy....” His eyes seemed to glaze over and then he was falling.

“Dorian!” Fenris called out just as he caught the other man. “Probably shouldn’t have tried to get in your pants so soon after my trick huh?” 

“Not quite sure what happened there,” Dorian managed dazedly. “Thought I was recovering and then whoops, here comes the floor....”

“Sorry, sticking my hand in your chest was probably bad for you.” Fenris admitted. “Come, let’s just… take a nap?” Fenris asked as he helped Dorian up and to the bed in the guest room.

“Today is not going at all well,” Dorian protested plaintively. “When I arrived at Cumberland for the Conclave and found the whole place in uproar and no sign of Hal, I came straight here more than half convinced I'd find you all dead....”

“I’m sorry to have added to it. Maybe we can pick up with this later, after you’ve had a bit of rest? I would be amenable to that.” Fenris sounded almost sad at how he’d laid his friend low.

“I suppose after having mentally prepared myself to be greeted by the dead bodies of my dearest friends and their children, merely failing to remain upright long enough to enjoy your cock would count as the day looking up,” mused the Magister. “Perhaps I'll wake up after a good long sleep and find this is all merely the product of too much wine, cheese and a late night.”

“Now you just sound silly, come let’s both take a nap and maybe you can finish what you started? I was having fun before you fainted, I’m guessing you were too, _amicus_?” Fenris asked quietly. 

Dorian reached up to Fenris, his expression grave. “I’m serious, _amicus_ ,” he said quietly. “I thought I was coming here to bury you all. And I think that would have damned near destroyed me. I will take the pain of your hand in my chest over the pain of laying you to rest with your children gladly.”

Fenris hugged him at that, choked up at Dorian’s words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you felt that way _amicus_.”

“You’re my friend, Fenris. And it's because you're my friend that I must ask you to leave me alone now. I have to let Meneris know the bare bones of what's happened to Arden, because if one of the other Skyhold Mages gets back before he wakes then he'll wonder why I haven't returned - and possibly reach the same conclusion I did, and you really don't need Meneris and half the soldiers still at Skyhold hopping in to help bury you or assuming I'm battling a unit of Qunari. I promise I will not breathe a word about Invictus, upon my life. But I have to be the one to put a stop to anyone else popping in here - or mass hysteria over further Qunari plots, do you see?” Dorian stared up at the elf. “And... and also I don't want you to see me go to pieces when I tell Meneris... because I _do feel_ that way, and I still can't get a horrible image out of my head of you, the children, Anders, Zevran and Invictus - and Hal - all dead.” Dorian’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. 

“Leave you alone? But…” Fenris said, feeling pushed aside. “I’ll be quiet while you call home, please?” 

Dorian closed his eyes, then nodded before swiping his thumb across the ring on his hand. “Meneris.”

Fenris sat there, quiet as he could while Dorian called in, he felt strange leaving the magister after such an admission, and wanted to remain with him.

“Dorian?” Meneris’ voice was startled. “I hadn't expected to hear from you yet - are you alright?”

“No, not really,” Dorian confessed. He hated the way his voice trembled. “Something - something very bad has happened. Arden Hawke has been attacked - might not make it.” He stared at Fenris as he spoke. “An unknown assailant. Assassination attempt; looks a likely Venatori attack to me. Hal was missing. I took myself to the Nevarra house fearing the worst.”

“Dori??” exclaimed Meneris, alarmed.

“Alive - they're all alive!” Dorian blurted. “Unharmed, but I was afraid -” 

He clutched at his hair and couldn't hold back a sob. “I was afraid I wouldn't reach here in time!” He began to weep, finally letting go of those terrible moments in which he'd arrived to a silent house.

Fenris held him close, sure to remain silent even as he comforted Dorian. He nuzzled against the mage, wishing he could speak. Over the ring's link he could hear Meneris making soothing noises, trying to calm the exhausted mage.

“I don’t know when I'll be able to return, _amatus_ \- slight magical mishap jumping here, I forgot to take lyrium first. I'll be alright after a good rest, and Fenris will make sure I'm not so foolish when I return. But no doubt the most ludicrous rumours will be spreading after this, and I didn't want you to fear the worst if one of the other Mages got back before me. I'm fine - exhausted, overwrought and I'll likely have nightmares tonight but I'm unharmed, as are our friends - including Hal. Stayed on to spend more time with Wynne; you know how he dotes on the child.” He was staring right into Fenris’ eyes as he told the lie.

The elf glanced down in contrition, wanting to confess to Meneris but remained silent as promised. If guilt could cut, he’d have a long wound over his heart.

Meneris murmured something and Dorian smiled tearfully. “Love you too, _amatus_ ,” he answered, then swiped his thumb over the ring again and the stone went dark. 

“I've never lied to Meneris in cold blood before,” he said quietly. 

“Tell him, tell him I did this to Arden then if you have to tell on someone. I will take the blame for Vic. I’m sorry.” Fenris turned away, ashamed.

Dorian shook his head. “No, I'll say nothing,” he replied. “If he hears the truth, it won't be from my lips; I promised. I would have promised even without your hand touching my heart - but I know you were only trying to protect Invictus. And whilst what I found here isn't as terrible as you and your family slain by Qunari or Venatori, it is truly horrible in its own way and you're all badly hurt by it each in your own ways, and I can't say that had I been here I'd have done any better myself. I shan't add to your pain.” He gently disentangled himself from Fenris’ grasp and lay back against the pillows. “I fear I shall have some truly unpleasant dreams, _amicus_ ,” he admitted. “Even necromancers dread dreams of their loved ones dying, and we saw too many buried thanks to Corypheus.”

“Do you want to sleep alone then?” Fenris asked quietly, discomfited but unwilling to go unless Dorian told him to.

“In truth? No,” the magister replied. “But I think the others need you more than I. There's something very, very wrong with Hal, for a start. But do come swiftly if you hear me screaming, hmm?” He attempted to put on a brave face, too exhausted to really muster his customary bravado, and too heartsick at what he had learned of Arden Hawke. 

“I’ll stay, Hal...has taken to sleeping alone after what happened. He...needs space he told me.” Fenris admitted quietly before unlocking the door. “In case anyone needs to check on us.” he said before sliding under the covers.

“So sorry, _amicus_ ,” sighed Dorian as he closed his eyes and tried to will his body to relax.

Fenris was gently holding the Magister when Dorian suddenly stiffened perhaps two hours later before beginning to moan and sob in his sleep. “The children... no, please, not the children!”

“Wake up, wake up we’re ok.” Fenris said as he shook Dorian gently to wake him. “Come back to us, we’re all ok.”

“Fenris... Fenris!” Dorian’s eyes flew open and he drew a ragged breath, his face distraught, eyes searching the unfamiliar room wildly until at last they focused on Fenris. His expression slowly gave way to a look of glad disbelief as he clutched at the elf, and then he exhaled slowly and went limp with relief. “Alive. You're alive. I was just dreaming.” He groaned.

“Yeah, bad ones it seems like.” Fenris said as he let Dorian hold him for a change. He was about to ask what he wanted when the door opened and Vic barged in to see what was wrong.

“Are you two ok, I heard yelling.” Vic huffed.

“Nightmare, I'm afraid,” replied Dorian as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Bad ones. You were all dead, and I couldn't find the children, and then -” He broke off and shuddered. “No. No, I... I don’t think I can talk about it.”

“I’ll be back with some wine and food, sounds like you both could use it. Fenris you want to come with or stay with Dorian?” VIc asked

“I’ll come with you, that way I can bring the tray back up. Thanks love.” Fenris replied, leaving with a concerned look over his shoulder before following Invictus.

“Wait!” cried Dorian as he sat up and reached for his pants. “I... I really don't want to be alone right now,” he confessed. “I'll come down with you.”

“Alright _amicus_ ” Fenris waited until Dorian was dressed and put an arm around his waist to keep him steady.

Anders glanced up as they entered the kitchen; Pin was scolding him as she pushed him into a chair.

“Pin, I'm capable of fetching myself a cup of tea,” the healer was laughing.

“You can just stay there and let me bring it to you!” she insisted. 

“Dorian, I didn't know you were here? Please excuse my apprentice - be careful she doesn't scold you too!”

“Pin may scold me all she wishes,” Dorian replied, his eyes a little watery. “As loudly and as often as she chooses in fact.”

Pin stared at him. “Master Dorian, are you feeling alright?” she asked suspiciously.

“He’s not well Pin, can you pour us some wine please?” Fenris asked as he let Dorian go to get them both lunch.

“Of course, Father,” she replied, giving Dorian a worried look before turning to look for glasses.

“Dorian, are you -” began Anders.

“Exhausting day, bad fright, slight mishap,” replied Dorian tersely as he took a seat and took the glass of wine Pin offered him with a nod of thanks. “I'd prefer not to be a bother though, so I'll sit here quietly and - well.” He took a hasty mouthful of wine.

“You're always welcome here, Dorian, regardless of the reason for your visit,” said Anders gently. “We won't press - but feel free to stay the night. Just let Meneris know we'll send you back in the morning.” He smiled.

Fenris slid a plate in front of Dorian and dug into his, happy he had a reason not to speak to anyone. He caught Pin giving him a curious look but he didn’t question her, yet. 

“You were due to speak at the Conclave today, weren't you, Dorian?” said Anders. “Surely they can't have taken the vote already?”

“They haven't,” replied Dorian quietly. “The Conclave has been put on hold by the Grand Enchanter’s second, the Vice-Grand - Fiona.”

Anders blinked. “Fiona?” he echoed quietly. “What-” 

He broke off as he saw the look Fenris and Invictus exchanged.

“I’m sure she has her reasons, but that’s not our concern anymore love. Why don’t you have something else to eat so Pin can stop fussing at you, hmm?” Fenris said.

Invictus got a second helping and was suddenly very hungry and not talkative in the least.

Anders stared at them, then looked at Dorian. “Arden’s dead, isn't he.” His voice was quiet, calm, yet oddly flat.

Dorian stared at his plate. “Not... not yet,” he said truthfully. “Or wasn't at about mid-morning, when I left. That may have changed however.”

Anders glanced back at Invictus and Fenris who were both giving him startled looks. He smiled grimly. “I'm not going to ask which one of you did it,” he said quietly. “But I knew there was more going on than you were telling me, and I knew that you were keeping secrets from me. A secret concerning Callus... and concerning something you didn't want me to see in the woodshed.” His eyes went to Invictus. 

“What gives you that idea love?” Invictus gave him that charming smile that fooled people when he was Champion but his husband wasn’t moved at all.

Fenris remained silent rather than lie to Anders. He knew if he started confessing he’d tell everything, especially with how Anders was staring at them.

“Don’t, Vic,” said Anders very softly. “Don't lie to me. Don't make me tell you what you did. I saw the rope.”

“Do you really want to know? If so, then the children should leave I don’t want to give them nightmares, as should Fenris so I don’t traumatize him, again.” Invictus replied, staring at Anders rather intensely.

Anders closed his eyes. “Fenris. Pin. Please leave.”

Pin stared at him, then at Invictus. “If - if you hurt Master Anders -” she began hotly.

“Pin. Dorian is here. If I appear to be taking what Invictus needs to say badly, he will make sure I take the digitalis and he will call Hal. But I don't think you need to stay, and I know Fenris needs to go.” He opened his eyes and returned Invictus’ stare. “But you've given me one of the answers I needed.”

The warrior glared at Invictus. “I am not a child Vic. Pin shouldn’t hear this but don’t dare send me away in my own home.” 

“Leto Hawke, this isn’t about you being a child, its more than that now please go with Pin, preferably for a long walk so we can talk. Please love.” Vic begged him.

“Fenris,” said Anders softly. “It’s going to be alright. Please.”

“Fine.” Fenris snapped before getting out and beckoning Pin to follow. “We’ll go to the village and then I’m having a drink.” 

Anders waited until he heard the front door close, then gave Invictus an odd, strange little smile as he rose to his feet. He gestured, and a thick, heavy silence settled around the room as the Silence spell took, then he took a breath as he braced his hands upon the table. 

“I’m sorry I screamed, I’m so sorry - I’ll talk, please, let me talk!” he screamed. 

Dorian swore as he leapt to his feet; Invictus flinched.

“That was what he said, wasn’t it?” panted Anders, trying to catch his breath.

Invictus had paled and simply nodded at the other mages words. “Y..yes.” he whispered.

“Want me to continue? I’m sure I have it all seared into my memory,” Anders went on. He swallowed hard. “I could... I could _feel_ it. The pain. Raw. It... Invictus... did you honestly think you could do something so vile near a Spirit Healer and they wouldn’t know?”

Dorian hastened to Anders’ side and helped him down into the chair before hastily fetching him a glass of water; Anders was staring at Invictus with a look almost of betrayal. “You... Vic... how _could_ you? That was the man you _were_ , not - I thought...” He was starting to cry, reaching up to scrub at the tears even as he stared up at Invictus. “Why?” he whispered. “Was it worth it?”

“No Anders..not anymore.” Invictus said quietly before his head snapped up. “Wait...if you felt, it, wouldn’t have Hal? Maker…” 

Anders had dropped his head into his hands and was crying still. “I don’t care for me, it doesn’t matter,” he moaned. “But Hal... that was wrong, so wrong, Vic. How _could_ you?”

Dorian glanced up at Invictus. “I don’t want to know what it was you did,” he said quietly. “That was more than enough for me.”

“He hurt Fenris, enough so he checked out. I was ...I was furious and unable to be rational. I’m sorry.” Vic replied.

“I don’t understand though,” sobbed Anders. “Callus had already beaten him badly. What was to be gained by this?”

Invictus shook his head and looked down at his feet as he tried to find words but came up empty. 

“Something was protecting Pin. I don’t know what,” Anders went on, scrubbing at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “But she was shielded - something was deflecting the pain away, calling away. I could barely keep myself together as it was. Maker. I don’t know.”

He took the glass of water from Dorian with trembling hands and sipped slowly.

“Do you want me to go? I understand if you can’t be near me after this Anders.” Invictus sounded fearful as if he fully expected to be kicked out for his trespass. 

Anders’ head jerked up and he stared at Invictus, eyes wide. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please.”

Dorian frowned as he glanced up at Invictus. “Anders -” he began.

Anders shoved himself to his feet; the glass hit the floor and smashed, unheeded, as he came to stand in front of Invictus. “Please,” he said, his voice wavering. “Please don’t go. Fenris needs you - I - _I_ need you. Don’t - don’t do this to me. Please.”

“I don’t _want_ to go Anders, I was offering if you found it too hard to be around me after what I’ve done is all. If you’ll have me, I’ll stay. Fenris would be ok, I’ve been bad for him since we first met you know that.” Vic pulled Anders to him, hugging him as long as the other mage allowed it.

“I need to lie down,” said Anders dazedly. “Can’t quite seem to catch my breath.”

“May I take you to ...our bed and lie with you for a while?” Invictus asked.

“Digitalis!” Dorian said suddenly. “Anders. Where is the digitalis? For your heart? I may not be a healer but I can at least give you your medicine.”

“The shelf... small blue bottle,” Anders waved vaguely in the direction of the herb shelves. Dorian hunted around then brought it over.

“Invictus, how many does he usually take?” asked the Tevinter mage as he shook out several small white pills into his hand.

“Two,” Anders murmured.

Dorian helped Anders take the pills, then hurried to dispel the Silence and open the door.

“Come on love, I’ve got you.” Vic said as he supported Anders through the house to their room and into bed. “I’ll be back soon, I just need a bit of water and tea.” He glanced at Dorian before fairly running to the kitchen and collapsing into a chair. 

Hal turned around as Invictus threw himself into the chair and tilted his head as he stared at the other mage in mild curiosity before he finished filling the kettle and set it upon the stove to boil.

“Is Anders tired again?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, Dorian is with him. I just needed a few minutes.” Invictus said shakily. “Is there tea?” 

“There will be, shortly,” replied Hal. “Are you feeling unwell? Do you require healing?”

“Not you too, you sound damn near Tranquil again. Please tell me I’m in the Void and today isn’t happening.” Vic said in alarm.

“If I were Tranquil then I would not be able to offer you healing,” replied Hal.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it Hal. Please just talk normally, so I don’t think I’ve finally lost it.” Vic begged him.

Hal stared down at his hands. “If you are in the Void, then I do not think you are alone there,” he whispered before looking up at him again. “I think I am there too.”

“Never mind the tea, I can’t deal with you and Anders and today. I’m going to lie down.” Invictus hurried away from Hal, too unbalanced to do anything besides crawl right back into bed.

“Vic!” cried Hal.

“What? What do you want from me?” Invictus asked, still faced away from the young mage. 

“I’m trying. I’m really trying,” breathed the young man. “But I’m hurting. It - I’ve only felt like this once before, and that was Skyhold. Please.”

The older mage turned around and looked at Hal, confused as to what to do for him. He wanted to yell, he wanted to walk away but he knew that it was his fault, even with Hal’s ok to do what he had to Arden. “What ...what do you need?” he finally got out.

Hal had wrapped his arms around himself, and as he stumbled closer Invictus realised that what he had taken for a Tranquil effect was in truth Hal being in what appeared to be very real, physical pain, beyond whatever else may be going on in the young man’s mind. His eyes were not soulless but glazed, not quite focusing.

“Healer, heal thyself - I know, I should be able to deal with this myself, right?” Hal’s smile was tremulous. “I - I don’t know. I don’t know what to think any more, Vic. I....” He closed his eyes. “I almost wish you had killed him. Then I would only have to grieve. Would you....” He opened his eyes and managed to focus on Invictus. “Would you put me out? For a little while?”

“Sure, where would you like to rest?” Vic responded.

“Anywhere... doesn’t matter,” replied Hal. “The parlour maybe. Zevran’s there.” 

“After you.” Invictus followed and once Hal had stretched out on a couch, he pressed two fingers gently to his forehead and pushed him to sleep. “Be well my friend.” 

Hal’s breath caught in his throat and then his eyes rolled back as he went limp, one hand dropping down to lie upon the floor.

“Uncle Vic? What’s wrong with Hal?” asked Ellowynne, startled, as she looked up from her book. She was sitting on a low stool next to Zevran, who was sleeping peacefully in his chair.

“He’s really tired sweetheart, as are we all. I’m going to take a nap with your daddy. Can you wake me up when Fenris and Pin get back? Do you need anything before I lie down?” Vic gave her a smile as he wondered if the former Crow was actually sleeping. 

She shrugged. “I’m fine,” she said, then glanced at the sleeping Hal. “He’s right. You _should_ have killed him. I hope he dies.”

“Ellowynne! Don’t say such things, please. It upsets your father when he hears you talk like that, and us too.” Vic gave her a skeptical look before turning to go. 

“He would have killed Uncle Zev,” she hissed. “And that would have killed Daddy. I’m _never_ going to forgive him for that - _never!_ Because of him Uncle Fenris is really upset, Hal might have died last night - Daddy might have, too, and he made you do something really, really bad! And he made Callus do something that upset him as well - and I _heard_ Dorian; he expected to find us all dead!” She glared at Invictus. “So don’t tell me not to say such things; I’ll only think them _twice_ as hard. I hope he dies, and I wish you’d let him die!”

Zevran stirred slightly, turning his head as his eyelids fluttered. “Wynne?” he slurred drowsily.

“Wynne, please be quiet. You woke up Zevran. It upsets me to hear you talk like this, please ...just don’t say it.” Vic said as he tried to get her to keep it down. 

She continued to glare at him before she turned and gently pressed two small fingers to the centre of Zevran’s forehead. “Shh, it’s OK,” she told Zevran gently. “Go back to sleep.”

He was smiling sleepily at her even as his eyes rolled back and he fell limp.

She turned back and stared challengingly at Invictus as she folded her arms. “No-one is going to hurt Uncle Zevran or my Daddy ever again. I don’t care who it is. I’ll make them go away. I’ll make them _all_ go away. And if Arden Hawke survives, then one day I will kill him.” She suddenly smiled sweetly at him. “But I promise I won’t talk about it in front of you again, Uncle Vic.”

She sat down on the stool and turned her attention back to her book. “Have a nice nap, Uncle Vic,” she said quietly.

Invictus just stared at her in fear, mostly horror at her intensity. “Of course Ellowynne, I’m going to go now and sleep. Yes, sleep is good.” he turned and fled back to the bedroom and after pulling off everything but pants he got in bed and curled around Anders. 

Anders opened his eyes and glanced at him. “Everything alright love?” he asked quietly. “I’m sorry - I handled that so badly. I shouldn’t have told you I knew like that. I think I terrified Dorian, and - I’m sorry, that night was so terrible, and I’m just so afraid for you, love.” His eyes were red and watery as he gazed at Invictus.

“Fine, everything is fine now, never better with that out in the open.” Vic said quietly and cuddled closer to Anders. 

Anders gave a small, hiccupping sob, then curled up against Invictus. Thankfully, Anders’ energy reserves were still rather swiftly depleted so recently after the heart attack; Invictus was relieved to hear Anders’ breathing ease out and the blond mage grow still as he fell into an exhausted sleep, leaving Invictus to lie awake and stare at the ceiling, no longer daring to just put himself out as he might have done before Ellowynne had so thoroughly unnerved him.

Which was why he was still awake when he heard the door open downstairs and heard Dorian quietly greeting Pin and Fenris.

The fighter was slightly buzzed as he came in to find Dorian greeting him instead of Invictus or anyone else. He looked past the magister to see Hal sound asleep in the parlor, Ellowynne reading as she had been, next to the still-sleeping Zevran, and Dorian looked rather frazzled. 

“What happened?” he asked bluntly.

“Anders had another little turn,” said Dorian. “Invictus is with him now. Hal wasn’t feeling too well himself; I heard him and Invictus talking in the kitchen whilst I was getting Anders settled in bed and when I came out, Hal was taking a rest in the parlour. Ellowynne’s been keeping an eye on both him and Zevran.” He rubbed his forehead slowly. “It’s been rather a trying day, _amicus_.”

“Maybe I should have just stayed in town and gotten drunker. Why can’t anything be easy lately?” Fenris groused as he tried to focus on Dorian. “Can we go lie down?” he slurred, just a bit. 

“You’re drunk, _amicus_ ,” sighed Dorian. “Go sleep it off. I’m sure with the assistance of Pin and Callus I shall be able to find my way around your kitchen and put together something edible for dinner for you all later.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m just… a little tipsy. After this week, I should start the day drunk wouldn’t you say?” Fenris growled. 

Dorian gave him a weary stare. “Please, _amicus_. Just go sleep this off. For the sake of my nerves, hmm? Maker knows they’ve been stretched enough today.”

“Not what you said earlier, _amicus_ , when you were ready to---” 

“Fenris,” Dorian put his hand swiftly over Fenris’ mouth. “For the love I bear you, please do not finish that sentence. I will remind you that that was before I so very gracefully fell on my face. I have had neither sufficient rest nor wine to deal with further repercussions at present.”

“I think I’ll keep Wynne company, excuse me father...uncle Dorian.” Pin left them to argue, or maybe kiss or something that would get her father out of his mood. She had to admit it was amusing, just a bit to see them carry on but she knew what had pushed her papa to such a foul mood to begin with. 

Fenris actually growled as Dorian covered his mouth, but it wasn’t effective as a muffled as it came out. He glared at the magister as if he was spoiling for a fight rather than a fuck as he had been earlier.

Dorian lowered his hand once Pin was gone, and folded his arms as he stared at Fenris. “I’m not your enemy, Fenris. Please don’t hit me. I’m sure there have been enough people hurting each other in this house already, and I have no wish to see my blood on the carpet. I’m also not stupid enough to think I could best you in a fight in my current state - a state which you had some hand in putting me in, if you recall - even with you drunk. I’m not about to even try. So why don’t we drop the growling. And if you’re thinking of biting me there had better be wine, dinner and preferably a damned good fuck involved or else I’m not interested.”

Fenris glowered at him for a moment longer before heading up to his office instead of the bedroom he shared with his spouses. He was in a foul mood and rather that putting the others through it, he opted to take a nap alone. He hoped he was feeling better by the time he came around. 

 

***

He felt slightly ratty and hungover when he finally emerged from his office some hours later to find Cal, Garrett and Marian had returned from the next town, where they’d been fetching supplies. As Fenris halted in the kitchen doorway, Marian and Pin frantically waved at him to keep quiet and gestured at where Dorian had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, his head pillowed on his arms. Callus and Garrett were poised over him, about to try and move him somewhere quieter before preparation for dinner started.

“He is quite exhausted, your _amicus_ , no?” chuckled Zevran quietly as he leaned against the wall beside the kitchen door. “What did you do to the poor boy, _carissimi_?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. Excuse me please.” Fenris didn’t quite run but he did hurry to the privy so what he had drunk could come back up. He made his way back to the kitchen and sat rather quickly. “Can you please make me some tea?” 

“Father, why don’t you and Zevran go into the parlour? We’ll make dinner,” suggested Callus. “Dorian can sleep in here till it’s ready.”

“I’ll bring you your tea, Father,” nodded Pin.

“Would you like a hand into the parlour, Master Zevran?” asked Marian.

“Ah, no, my husband and I will hobble in together,” chuckled Zevran. “Come, _carissimi_. We can hold each other up, no?”

“I don’t trust that I won’t take us both down, you go ahead Zevran.” Fenris muttered as he went in and flopped on the other couch, groaning as he felt the room spin slightly. “I think I’ll skip dinner.” 

Zevran regarded him sympathetically, then stretched slowly, his spine popping as he arched over backwards. “Oh, I am so stiff; I feel as though I have been asleep for a week after being thrown around like a rag doll,” he yawned before he sat back in his chair.

Invictus and Anders paused in the doorway and glanced at each other before joining the others.

Fenris turned at his elven husband’s words. “What did you say?” 

“That I feel as though I have been asleep for a week after being thrown around like a rag doll,” he repeated with a shrug. He glanced out into the hallway. “I think I must have been dreaming a lot; surely that wall was a different shade of blue.” He smiled at the others. “But I must have been mistaken, yes?”

“Yes, mistaken that’s it.” Fenris replied as he let his head down again and threw an arm over his face. The room was too bright and he’d whipped his head to the side a bit too quickly.

“Why don’t you get a little walk around the house love? It might do your knee some good to stretch?” Vic suggested.

“Perhaps I will do that after dinner,” shrugged Zevran. “Perhaps you might come with me, my love? You can show me which step it was that you say I slipped upon? How careless of me to have fallen down the stairs. It must have worried you all very much, no? And now my poor leg is once again troubling me.”

He leaned forward and fixed Invictus, Fenris and then Anders with a steely stare. “Or, perhaps you could drop the pretence and admit that I did not fall. It was Arden who tried to kill me, was it not?” He glanced at Fenris. “How angry you were when you found out the truth of how your head came to be injured, back in Tevinter, _carissimi_ , when the others hid from you that it was Solona. And yet you would pull the same trick on poor helpless Zevran, ah?” 

“Can you yell at me when I’m not hung over?” Fenris asked.

“Fenris, now is not the time to ask for favors.” Vic said quickly before turning to Zevran. 

“And were you not one of the people who thought we should keep that particular thing from Fenris? We thought it better if you didn’t remember, please Zevran it's been really hard the last few days. We’ll drop the pretence, and maybe you’ll not be too angry?” Vic asked.

“No, I was also injured when that took place,” Zevran reminded them quietly. “I still bear scars from the knifewounds which Anders and Solona nursed me to health from after the stealing away of our husband.” He nodded at Anders. “I do not think I have ever lied to you, Fenris?” He glanced to Invictus, then Anders. “Or either of you?”

The three men exchanged glances.

Zevran smiled slyly. “I may perhaps have lain still and allowed people to believe me sleeping on occasion,” he allowed. “But that is not lying, and when people will not tell me the truth I must hear it from the mouths of children instead sometimes.” He glanced to Anders. “Your daughter is very upset, my heart. I had not realised how much she takes to heart my well-being. I am fond of her as though she were my own blood; it distresses me to see her so filled with hate.”

Anders let out a choked sob.

Fenris had dragged himself into a sitting position as Zevran spoke, and sighed wearily. “I haven’t forgotten that lie of omission either. Fine, we kept it from you but it was for your health Zevran not just to lie. Is that not what you all told me after I discovered the deceit in keeping the truth of nearly the same crime by Solona? Can we just bloody drop it? Everyone is upset, we’ll wake Hal and Dorian at this rate and I’m fucking tired of being at each other's throats every other day. Can we have one damn day of peace around here, one?” 

“It is because I know you did it out of love for me that I will say no more, _carissimi_ ,” nodded Zevran. “But now you do not need to tiptoe around the truth any more, hmm?” He glanced to Anders. “Let us have no more secrets between us, my heart. Not when they cause such pain.” He turned and glanced at Hal, still stretched out asleep upon the other couch.

He glanced to Invictus after a moment. “And I am truly sorry, my love,” he said softly. “You have been touched by darkness; I see it in your eyes. Some secrets best lie forgotten. I, of all people, will not pry there; my own hands are too full of blood.” He dropped his gaze to his hands.

“I’m not hungry anymore, I’m going to the garden for a while, I could do with some fresh air.” Invictus said quietly so it wouldn’t wake anyone.

“Neither am I, but it's my own fault. Wake me and I’ll have some tea with you later.” Fenris said before curling back up on the couch, and trying to get comfortable. 

Anders drew his feet up to sit curled on the other end of the couch from Fenris, his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees as he stared at nothing, his eyes reddened from crying still. Zevran glanced at him, then rose to limp slowly and painfully outside. Anders’ eyes focused on him briefly as the Antivan passed him, then returned to gazing at nothing.

Invictus was aware of Zevran following out of the house, but the elf continued limping on. After a moment, the mage realised Zevran was heading towards the sparring ring. Curious in spite of himself, he watched as the elf climbed slowly and stiffly into the ring then drew a pair of blades. 

He tossed one thoughtfully, then hurled it into the dummy at the far end of the ring.

After a while of watching Zevran, Invictus came over and called to him. “That dummy didn’t do anything to you.” 

Zevran paused, his head bowed for a moment. “Perhaps not,” he nodded, then drew another knife and threw.

“If you need to talk, my love, I am here for you. If you wish to keep your silence, I am also here for you,” he said quietly without looking at Invictus. “But I have lost enough of my own soul that I do not wish you to lose what is left of yours.” He hefted the knife in his hand for a moment, then let it fall to the dust as he turned to stare at Invictus.

“I’d rather not discuss it, not yet. I’m bothered that I can still do things like that Zev. But after the hurt he put on Fenris, I couldn’t just ignore it. What has happened to all of us?” Vic asked desperately.

Zevran lowered his gaze to the floor and hung his head. “I do not know. I fear we are all more damaged than we knew.”

“I wish we could just turn back and never have hurt Arden or Hal. I feel so fucking low for doing that to them, but when I realize how close we came to losing you and Anders, I don’t feel sorry anymore.” Vic climbed over to Zevran, fell to his knees and hugged the elf. “I’m sorry.”

Zevran let himself fall to his knees with a small grunt of pain before he curled up into Invictus’ arms. “I do regret my part in their pain. But I think I reserve my hatred for Sebastian. It was he who hurt Arden worst I think. And for Bull, who hurt Hal so very badly. And for Solas; he, too must share blame. But most of all for Sebastian.”

“Save some room for me. I did part of this too.” Vic said as he held Zevran close, helping the elf stretch out his legs as he wrapped his arms around him. “Can we heal from this?”

Zevran stifled a groan as his knee straightened, then let his head rest against Invictus. “In time, perhaps,” he murmured. “I do not know if I should pray that Arden lives - or that he dies. Or even who that I should pray to. Should I now believe in this Andraste of you humans, as Anders does?” He stared into the sky. “Solas said that he and his kind are not gods. Perhaps there are none and we are truly alone in the universe. What good then is a soul, if I even have one left? Perhaps mere shreds and tatters.”

“Your soul is fine love, and you know Mythal exists, speak to Her if you would. I’ve not hope I will meet the Maker, not after all I’ve done in my time. For what it's worth, I know you are a good man under it all.” Vic said as he stared up in the sky along with Zevran, closing his eyes and humming. 

They were still sitting there when Marian came to call them to dinner.

***

 

Dorian went back to Skyhold the next day, Garrett and Marian going with him with promises to return soon.

A raven arrived four days later. Invictus and Fenris were working in the garden, Anders sitting nearby whilst they worked to chat. Hal was down by the orchard, gathering apples with Ellowynne.

Zevran emerged from the ravenry with a grim expression and began limping towards the orchard, his shoulders slumped.

Invictus looked up, wondering what happened but he figured he had an idea before Zevran spoke. “News?” 

“I must tell Hal first,” the Antivan said heavily. He glanced to Fenris as if to speak, then sighed and began limping on towards the orchard.

“Arden’s dead,” breathed Anders. “Oh Maker.”

“Hal is going to hate me for this.” Vic said under his breath as he dropped his tools and started to follow Zevran. 

The Tevinter elf had turned his gaze to the ground before simply going inside to pour himself a stiff drink. 

Zevran had disappeared beneath the trees. Invictus had crossed barely half the distance when suddenly a heartrending scream of agony burst out. 

A moment later, Ellowynne flew out from beneath the trees, racing back towards the house. “Daddy, Daddy!”

“I’m coming, love!” called Anders as he began hurrying towards her. “Go into the house and find Pin. Stay there,” he urged her. As she ran back to the house, he hurried after Invictus.

Hal was still screaming in anguish, fallen to his knees by the time they got there. Zevran stood to one side, a hand pressed to his face.

Invictus slid down and hauled Hal into his arms, letting him scream and cry as he needed. He didn’t bother with placating the younger man, he just held him through his grief. 

“Dead, he’s dead, that’s it - it’s over!” sobbed Hal, near hysterical. “They all leave me in the end. Fenris, Anders, Belann, the Bull - now Arden. And I know you’ll all leave me too. Where’s Fenris? He’s gone! Maker, all of them, gone!” He tore at his hair. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to go on?”

“Fenris went inside, he’s fine I think he just needed a drink after figuring out what happened. He’s not leaving you, I’m not. You go on by getting up every day, fighting and doing it all again the next day. We’re not leaving you Hal.” Vic wrapped his arms around the young mage so he couldn’t strip himself bald. 

“He needed a drink? _He_ needed a drink??” Hal stared at Invictus in disbelief, and then began to giggle, high-pitched and hysterical.

“Maker,” sighed Anders. He leaned over, and with a touch he sent Hal to sleep. “Let’s get him back to the house. Can you carry him, love?”

“Of course, and I’m getting Fenris to sit with him so I can wake him.” Vic picked Hal up and went to the room that had become his, yelling for Fenris to get his ass up there on the double. 

“Yes Vic?” Fenris asked as he came in with a double pour of Antivan brandy in hand. 

“Sit right there, and you will stay with Hal when I wake him and after. He thinks you left him, so you’re going to sit with him and not get drunk.” Vic snagged the glass, taking half of it for himself before dispelling his work. “Take care of him, he needs you.” 

Invictus left them alone with a wave of his hand and a grim look for his husband. 

Anders and Zevran stared down at the young mage as he slowly began to awaken. Fenris tensed as Hal opened his eyes; but there was no screaming. Hal blinked at the ceiling, then slowly rolled over onto his side and drew his legs up, curling in on himself as he began to sob brokenly.

“Hal....” said Fenris, feeling helpless as he stretched out a hand to the young man.

Hal opened his eyes and blinked as he stared at Fenris in disbelief. “Y-you... you _stayed...._ ” he breathed. He stared at the elf for a moment then reached to take Fenris’ hand. “You stayed, you didn’t leave me - oh -” He began sobbing again, but in thankfulness this time amidst his grief. “Thank you, oh thank you!” he gasped out between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry - please don’t leave me!”

“Hush,” rumbled Fenris gently as he climbed onto the bed and drew Hal into his arms, holding him close as Hal clung to him, shuddering through his paroxysms of grief. Gently, Fenris stroked the blood-red hair as he murmured soft comfort to the grieving man. “You have nothing to apologise for; you, of all of us, are blameless,” he soothed.

“He’s gone, Fenris,” gasped Hal. “Arden’s gone. He died without waking - without -” He closed his eyes, lost in despair and grief. “I never got to say goodbye, or tell him how sorry I am. He’s gone, and I never had the chance to tell him - t-tell h-him -” He was crying too hard to be able to choke out anything further.

Anders’ face was full of sorrow, his own eyes full of tears as he stared at the distraught mage; he clasped a hand over his mouth to stifle his own sob. He felt Zevran’s hand upon his shoulder and turned to seek comfort in the elf as Zevran wrapped his arms around him.

“Come, my heart,” murmured Zevran softly. “Let us leave Hal to his grief and to Fenris’ gentle care. He is the only one who can comfort him just now.”

Anders nodded, unable to speak as Zevran led him quietly away. The Antivan drew the bedroom door closed as they moved away, but it did little to muffle the sounds of broken sobbing as they moved away from the door.

Arden Hawke was dead.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NO one can catch a break in the Hawke house lately. Fire, emotional breaks and everyone seems to hit their limits and beyond in this chapter.

The funeral was painful for Hal, so many people giving him condolences and telling him how grateful they were he was still alive and well. How hard it must be to have lost Arden like that. If not for Fenris’ presence, he would have gone to pieces the moment the procession started. 

Fenris wanted nothing more than to be falling down drunk as he endured the whole thing. He had nearly lost it when some tried to console him on losing a dear, loved friend and a second Grand Enchanter so close together. If not for stamina potions and still being able to mask his feelings, the warrior would have been just as bad off as Hal was by the time they’d walked the casket to be entombed next to Anders. 

He forced himself not to go to the tomb, especially knowing it was empty and that Hal needed to be taken home or away from so many people who wouldn’t let him alone long enough to think, or take a breath. Eventually, they were left alone in the crypt, Hal with his head down and crying quietly, Fenris with an arm around him in support, unsure what to say or do for the young mage. Finally he did what others hadn’t all day, he asked what Hal wanted.

“Do you need to go now? Or do you wish to stay longer and say farewell now that you have some privacy?” Fenris felt his heartbreak at the anguish on Hal’s face when he finally looked up to him.

Hal’s mismatched eyes seemed so empty and lost as he looked slowly, dazedly around the crypt, his eyes drawn back to Arden’s tomb, over and over. He took a few stumbling steps towards it then fell to his knees at the foot of the tomb, looking utterly lost and bewildered. Dorian had provided him with a set of black robes for the ceremony, and they pooled about him now like black ink as he leaned against the cold marble and traced the carved inscriptions with his fingers, not seeing the words.

“This can’t be real,” he said dazedly. “This can’t be happening. Tell me I’m dreaming.”

“Would you have me lie to make it hurt less? If so, then yes it's a terrible, terrible dream.” Fenris said as he watched Hal closely. 

Hal gasped as he wrapped his arms around himself. “I wish I could die,” he said softly. “I wish I were Tranquil. But that would be the coward’s way out, and I couldn’t do that to you.” He glanced up at Fenris and gave him a tremulous smile through his tears. “Don’t worry for me,” he said gently. “I won’t ask you to kill me, or try to take my own life. I just wish the pain would end.” He closed his eyes. “I am so heartily sick of pain. Of crying. Of mourning. I just want... I want to open my eyes in the morning and not dread the day. I want to feel I have something to live for, not feel regret that I’m still breathing. If there is a Maker, He must truly hate me. What did I do, that I have to endure this, over and over?” 

He began to cry again. “Fenris... if I stay here, I’ll go mad. Take me away from here. I don’t care where, I don’t care what you do with me but - just get me away from here. Please.” He opened his eyes and raised his hands towards the elf plaintively.

“Anything you need Hal.” Fenris tugged him into his arms and exited the vault to find Dorian waiting for them. “I’m taking Hal to Rivain for a while, Aeolus should know and he needs someplace new. Can you let them know?” 

Dorian glanced back up the stairs towards the main entrance of the mausoleum, then nodded. “Invictus and Zevran couldn’t bear to come down. They’re waiting outside with Fiona. Doubtless they will be keen to return to Anders. I suggest you take him back to the house and use your ring to speak to your brother. Isabela will want to know as well. I shall follow after with Invictus and Zevran as soon as we can.”

Fenris nodded. “Thank you, _amicus_ ,” he said quietly. “For all that you have done.”

“No need for thanks, Fenris,” replied Dorian gravely. “I only wish I could do more.” He glanced to Hal and sighed. “I hope you find peace in Rivain, Hal, and that we meet again under far happier circumstances.” He glanced back to Fenris. “Will you fly there from Nevarra?”

Fenris nodded. “I don’t know the way well enough to teleport there, and I think Hal and I both need to feel the wind for a while.”

“Just so,” nodded Dorian. He sighed. “I thought that Mythal would put in an appearance. After all, Arden meant something to him once.”

“He was there,” said Hal softly. “He came. There was a white crow sitting high in the rafters of the Chantry.”

“Come on,” said Fenris. “Are you ready to go back?”

“I am,” replied Hal with a small shrug. “I think I’m getting used to your Fade travel. Maybe it’s because I spent so long in the Fade myself.”

“Take care of yourselves,” nodded Dorian. He raised a hand in farewell, and a moment later he was alone in the crypt.

He strode towards the two tombs - the one with the carving of Anders, and the other with a carving of Arden. They might have been twins; doubtless many, many years hence people might think they were.

He laid a hand on Arden’s tomb. “After what I’ve learned of you, Arden Hawke, I pity you. I hope you’ve finally found the rest you never had in life and you’re at peace, wherever you are now.” He sighed. “I wish things had been different.” He stepped back. “Farewell, Arden Hawke.”

He bowed towards the tomb, then turned and left.

The crypt returned to silence and darkness.

 

***

 

Invictus was restless without Fenris and Hal in the house. It had only been a couple of weeks but he missed them terribly. He was careful not to lash out at Zevran or Anders, but he was overly cautious with them, too solicitous as he went about his day. He would have kept going until Zevran had enough of his gentleness and being soft with him over lunch.

The former First Enchanter jumped when the Antivan snapped at him, having had enough of dancing around each other since Arden’s funeral. “Why are you cussing me? What could I have done to you before noon.” Vic asked. 

“I am not made of glass!” snapped Zevran as he threw his hands up. “And I will not be treated as though I am! I will not break, Invictus - I may limp, but I am no cripple, but every time you linger around me as if I might fall at the slightest breeze then you may as well be telling me I am one to my face!” He glared at the mage. “Am I then so broken and worthless that I may as well hang up my blades and resign myself to dotage, that you treat me thus?”

Invictus sat back, stunned at the elf’s anger with him. “Zev...I would not say that to you, please don’t yell at me. I just...I …” he fell silent at the way the elf’s expression darkened at his weak explanation.

Zevran struggled to his feet. “Without my blades I am nothing,” he said hoarsely. “And I cannot abide to be pitied.” He turned and limped towards the back door.

Invictus went behind him, aiming to talk with the former Crow and let him know he wasn’t trying to imply anything about him being useless. It was concern that had him fussing over the elf, wanting him well again. 

Zevran ignored him as he headed to the practice ring. His leg was clearly troubling him badly today, but he gritted his teeth as he climbed into the ring and glared at the practice dummy. Callus had only just replaced it that morning. Zevran reached for a blade and hurled it with more force than was strictly necessary; it flew hard and fast, embedding itself deeply in the straw head. Further knives followed the first, thrown fast yet accurately, slicing the dummy to shreds and sinking deeply into the wooden backstop behind.

Zevran paused, panting, and glared at Invictus over his shoulder. “There! Is that the work of a cripple?”

“Love, I never said you were a cripple. I don’t hover to even imply it, I am simply worried for you is all. I know you hate the idea of that. Please Zev, the last thing I want is to hurt you or fight.” Invictus said contritely. 

Zevran turned and drew the long fighting blades at his hips. “Spar with me,” he said quietly.

That caught the mage up short, as he had no weapons with him, and he wasn’t good with short blades, preferring his staff or fists. “I have nothing to spar with, can I get my staff?” Vic asked.

“You have your magic, do you not?” replied Zevran. “Skill for skill. My blades against your magic. We shall see then how useless I am, eh?”

“I never said you were useless Zevran.” Vic repeated, wanting to go inside but he knew if he said no to the fight it would make it worse. “My magic can only deflect so much, but if you insist I’ll spar.”

Zevran grinned savagely. “Do not hold back, my love.”

With no warning, he sprang forward, launching himself from his good leg as he brought both blades whirling down in twin overhead strikes; Invictus barely had a chance to throw up a hasty shield as he dove to one side, turning as he came to his feet to blast Zevran instinctively with an ice blast which he just barely tamped down to less than lethal force at the last minute. The blast caught the elf on the hip; Zevran rolled away, coming up to his good leg as a throwing knife span from his hand towards Invictus’ head; the mage barely deflected it with a blast of ice before Zevran was upon him, his blades flashing.

The elf was almost like one possessed as he fought; Invictus found himself resorting to stronger and stronger blasts of Force magic to deflect Zevran’s knives, even as ice seemed only to make the elf laugh. He was limping badly and yet seemed to be pushing himself through the pain, forcing his body to work against it. 

Invictus finally started fighting back with spirit bolts; he was desperately trying to avoid using any of the spells which could have crippled Zevran far worse, such as fire magic or the more directly lethal Force spells, but he was beginning to run rapidly out of options as Zevran pushed himself harder.

Callus and Garrett ran to the side of the ring, drawn by the noise of the fight, just as Invictus managed to stun Zevran briefly with a spirit bolt. As they watched, the elf pushed himself to his feet, eyes unfocused as he turned, still trying to keep Invictus in his sights.

“You’re going to kill me if you don’t stop Zev, please I yield!” Vic pleaded even as he dodged another strike aimed at his head. He rolled away panting as he tried to keep from using lethal spells but it was like the elf was possessed in his desire to prove he wasn’t useless. He threw up a shield spell barely in time to avoid being pinned.

“Cal, Garrett… do something!” Vic called out as he danced backward, throwing up shields as he hoped Zevran wore himself out before hurting him too badly. 

“Master Invictus! Catch!” shouted Garrett as he unslung his staff and threw it towards him. Invictus managed to snatch it out of the air, turning as he spun the staff just in time to block a flurry of Zevran’s knife attacks.

“Fight me, Invictus!” hissed Zevran through gritted teeth as he pressed his attack. “Stop holding back, damn you!”

“I’m not holding back! You’ve damn near killed me. Please… I don’t want this Zevran, you’re not useless, not a cripple. You’ve made your point, just stop.” Vic begged even as he had to defend himself from another round of blows that would have killed him if not for the staff to deflect.

He threw up another shield as he circled around with elf. He wasn’t soft by their retirement but he was never a fighter like the former Crow. Invictus was winded as he tried to focus and get control over the match. 

Zevran pressed the attack again, and Invictus parried, striking away each blow frantically before finally spotting an opening and risking a brief, small lightning bolt in sheer desperation. It threw Zevran back a few paces; the elf stumbled, and then his bad leg abruptly gave way beneath him. With a howl of pain, Zevran dropped, and lay in the dust, sprawled face down.

Invictus took a step towards him, horrified as the elf didn’t move; and then Zevran slowly stirred, curling in upon himself, burying his face in his arms as his shoulders shuddered.

Invictus realised the elf was crying.

“Zevran?” Vic asked in confusion and concern as he approached and pulled the elf into his arms. “What, what is it?” 

“I do not know,” sobbed Zevran. “I am afraid - afraid that I will not be able to protect you all - the children, little Wynne - Dorian, when he said he thought Venatori or Qunari had - had -” He shuddered and clung to Invictus. “I do not wish to be a cripple, useless, a burden!”

“You’re not a cripple or burden Zevran. Maker, you almost killed me out there, and that is not something you could have done as a burden. I’ll stop tiptoeing around, I’ll treat you as I always have, just please… please stop this. We love you so much, we’re just worried is all. Look at me, do you understand me?” Vic tried to get him to look up and it broke his heart to see the expression in his husband’s eyes. 

Zevran stared up at him, tears marking tracks in the dust upon his face. “I have nothing but my knives and my skill. If I cannot fight, then what is left for me? All I have ever known since I was seven has been how to kill and how to be a whore. I - I do not know who I am if I cannot fight. If all that is left to me is....” He closed his eyes. “Forgive me, my love. I would never have hurt you. You are too strong for me. You could have ended that fight in an instant if you had not held back.”

Garrett and Callus were approaching cautiously, both with awestruck expressions.

“M-master Invictus?” said Garrett hesitantly. “Should I fetch Master Anders?”

“I’ll bring Zevran in, take your staff back Garrett. Please, don’t call me Master...just Invictus will do, ser if you have to be formal.” Vic said as he kissed the elf’s cheek. “I held back to keep from killing. Let’s go back in and finish lunch, then I’m going to see if Fenris is free, I could stand to hear his voice.” 

“Master Zevran?” said Callus quietly.

“I am no-one’s master,” murmured Zevran, not opening his eyes. “I am no-one.”

Callus and Garrett exchanged stunned looks.

“Zevran Hawke, stop that right now. You bested me in that ring, and only because I didn’t want to kill you or stun you senseless am I sort of ok. You are Cal’s mentor, you’re my husband and you are loved so never, ever say that again. Now get up, stop whining after you kicked my ass and let’s go inside.” Vic knew he sounded callous but he’d hoped it would get through to the elf if gentleness failed.

Zevran opened his eyes again; his expression was bleak. He studied Invictus’ face then pulled away and began to struggle to his feet.

Callus moved to help but Zevran pushed him away as he began to crawl across the ring, dragging his injured leg. He reached the fence and hauled himself painfully up, then began to make his slow way along, limping badly as he clutched the fence for support, not looking back at any of them.  
Invictus waited until Zevran was out of sight before going to his knees and damn near keeling over. He’d taken more of a beating than he’d let on and he was feeling every cut, and hit the elf had landed. “Fuck… me. He’s better than most men even with his knee damn near blown out. Everything hurts.” he rolled on his back and wheezed. 

“M- Invictus! Ser!” exclaimed Garrett as he knelt down next to the older mage. “Let me help - I’m better at healing magic than Marian, though not on Master Anders’ level. I should be able to fix you up enough to get you back to the house though.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Invictus looked up to his stepson and waved towards the house. “Cal… follow Zevran, discreetly please. This started because he thought I was coddling him, but I am worried about his leg giving out again.” 

Callus nodded and headed towards the house, pausing to gather up Zevran’s long blades. He darted a glance back at the wreckage of the fighting dummy before carrying on.

Invictus and Garrett got back to the house to find Zevran lying on the kitchen floor. Anders was kneeling over him, his hands around the elf’s injured knee; Callus was crouched near Zevran’s head. Someone had placed a pillow beneath Zevran’s head; the elf’s eyes were half-closed, his face pale beneath the dusky tan.

“Thanks love, I’m going to go lie in the parlor and try to relax. Maybe call Fenris because I could ...I need to hear him.” he amended as he passed by. Vic still ached but he left Anders to work on their love.

As he reached the doorway, behind him he heard Zevran quietly murmur, “I miss my _carissimi_.”

“We all do, Zev,” Anders replied. “Hold still. I think you’ve damaged that old break. I can feel a crack.”

Invictus flopped on his back and swiped a thumb over the ring Dorian had given him. “Fen, you around?” 

“Vic? Are you alright? Your voice sounds... odd.” Invictus could hear concern in Fenris’ voice as his husband answered.

“Not really, I miss you and...and.” Vic’s next words caught in his throat as he tried to keep himself together. “We...all miss you so much Fen.”

There was silence for a moment, then Fenris’ voice was softer. “As I also miss you all,” the elf admitted. “Rivain is beautiful, Isabela and Aeolus have been so kind and gentle with Hal even though they, too, are grieving. But I miss you. Rivain is not home.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back? Or if you have time, I know Zevran could do with hearing your voice.” Vic asked as he sat up. 

“Has something happened to Zevran?” asked Fenris, his voice a little sharper. Invictus heard a lighter, higher voice murmur something in the background - Hal, by the sound of it. Fenris moved away from the ring to rumble something Invictus couldn’t catch, before his voice sounded closer to the ring again. “We are coming home. We will be there shortly; Hal is gathering a few things and we need to say goodbye to Aeolus and Isabela.”

“I didn’t mean for you to cut your trip short love, I just missed you and I know Zevran as well Anders and the kids do as well. You don’t have to drop everything and hurry back.” Vic hated that he was relieved at the news, even as he felt guilty for worrying Fenris.

“Hal feels he is ready to return,” replied Fenris. “I think he is missing the Imp particularly. Rivain has been good for him but I think perhaps he will heal better once we have him settled properly at home.”

Invictus blinked, then found himself smiling at the unspoken implication that Hal considered them “home”.

“Will you be flying or taking more direct means?” Vic asked as he wandered over so Anders and Zevran could hear their conversation. 

“Direct, I think. You did not answer my question, which means I can only fear the worst. What happened to Zevran?” Fenris repeated.

Zevran’s eyes opened and he stared up. “Do not trouble yourself about me, _carissimi_ ,” he called weakly. “A mishap in the sparring ring, nothing more.”

Anders swore. “A mishap that means he’s bloody going to be on crutches for another month,” he snapped. “That old break has gone again. I _said_ if it healed with magic then the joint would be weak!”

“Anders...please calm yourself.” Vic said before stepping out of their way. “We’ll be happy to have you back Fen, I’ll set out lunch for you both if you haven’t eaten. I love you and I could use a hug once you’re home.” 

“If the sparring ring is empty then we’ll teleport in there,” replied Fenris. “We will be home in half an hour, Invictus. Zevran, if I find you attempting to walk on that leg I shall carry you to our room and tie you to the bed - am I clear?”

Zevran gave a loud noise of disgust and flung an arm over his face.

“It will be empty love, just… come home soon, please.” Vic asked before brushing his thumb over the ring and wiping a hand over his face before turning to the others. “I’ll warm up something when they get here, then I’m going to go fall over for a while, maybe take a bath because I ache.”

***

Just a little over half an hour later, Fenris and Hal arrived back. Zevran was sitting at the kitchen table and pouting as Fenris entered; he turned and gave the pair of crutches leaning against the table a look of disgust then made to rise.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Anders as he laid a hand on Zevran’s shoulder and halted him; the elf dropped back into his seat with a stifled grunt of pain then glared at the unrepentant mage over his shoulder. “You can wait here for Fenris to come to you!”

Hal followed behind Fenris and halted on the threshold, looking around a little shyly. There was a little more colour in his cheeks than when last they had saw him, though the black of his garments made him look very wan still.

Fenris had gotten some color as well during their time away, he looked happier and better than he had after the funeral. He didn’t get far before Invictus nearly bowled him over in a hug. 

“You’re home, you’re home. I’m so happy to have you back.” Vic repeated.

“I was coming home Vic, what’s wrong with you?” asked the warrior. “This is not like you to be clingy.”

Anders had moved to welcome Hal in. As the younger mage regarded him uncertainly, Anders reached for his hand.

“I’m... I’m sorry for my part in hurting you,” Hal whispered. Anders shook his head and smiled.

“Enough of that. It’s in the past.” He drew Hal towards him and then hugged him gently. “You healed me - likely kept me alive, and Ellowynne counts you as another Uncle. Or perhaps a big brother. She adores you, and as far as I’m concerned that makes you part of our family.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me,” said Hal in a small voice that wavered.

“We want you, Hal,” said Anders gently as he held Hal close. “We want you very much. And we’re all so very, very sorry for our own parts in hurting you.”

Fenris smiled at the young mage, glad he was able to speak openly. “We love you Hal, that hasn’t changed.” He pulled back from Invictus, curious as to the other man’s neediness but decided to let it go until they could be alone. “Let me go you sloth so I can greet Zevran.” 

“Ok, sorry love.” Vic reluctantly let him go and joined the others at the table while Fenris knelt down to greet his Antivan. 

“Missed you Zev.” he said before leaning in for a kiss. 

Zevran reached up and grasped Fenris’ collar firmly then hauled himself up to press himself against Fenris’ body, kissing the surprised elf deeply as Fenris hastily flung his arms around the Antivan. Zevran flung his arms around Fenris’ neck as the taller elf straightened, the Antivan still kissing him deeply, thoroughly and enthusiastically with desperate pants and moans.

Fenris pulled away to breathe and to let the other elf back into his chair. “You really missed me, I’m guessing.” he said quietly, not missing the way Zevran tracked his movements. “Can I have lunch before you try to ravish me again?” 

“He shouldn’t be ravishing anyone, he should be relaxing after Anders healed his leg.” Vic said with a look for their husband. 

“I healed the soft-tissue damage,” Anders corrected him. “The break is going to heal naturally so that this time it will actually heal strongly enough to withstand the kind of things he tried this morning. Which means the splint stays on and he’s on crutches for the next six weeks.”

Fenris’ eyes dropped to the long splints and bandages that swathed Zevran’s leg from foot to mid-thigh.

“Take me upstairs, _carissimi_ , and I will _show_ you how much I have missed you, splint or no,” said Zevran as he gave Fenris a smouldering look.

“Zevran!” scolded Anders. “Am I going to have to drug you to keep you in one place long enough for you to heal?”

Invictus was about to speak when he noticed Ellowynne entering the room; she made her way to Zevran’s side and smiled sweetly up at Invictus. 

“I’m sure Uncle Zevran will be good, Daddy - don’t you agree, Uncle Vic? He could nap in the parlour. I’ll look after him.”

“Yes Imp, I’m sure he’ll be good. Go on and have lunch with your father Wynne and we’ll let Zevran and Fenris catch up ok?” Vic said with a sideways glance at his step daughter. He was no longer sure if she wasn’t part demon the way she acted sometimes. 

“Come on, Wynne, we’ll go eat outside in the garden,” suggested Anders as he held his hand out to his daughter. “If Zevran wants a nap afterwards, I’m sure Fenris will gladly help him upstairs to bed.” He gave Fenris a meaningful look. “To _rest._ ” He and Ellowynne went outside.

Fenris waited until the door had shut before turning to the others and glaring at them. “The truth, right now or I will let Ellowynne put you to sleep Zev. I know about that trick of hers first hand.” 

Zevran blinked, startled. “Trick?” he echoed, a look of confusion upon his face. Hal was frowning as he watched.

“Fenris, what trick do you mean?” he asked.

“That little demon has learned how to put us to sleep far too easily, especially on me since I can resist a lot of magic since my...change through Mythal. I saw her do it to you with a smile Zevran.” Fenris said with a glance to Invictus. “I’ve noticed how you look at her Vic, she’s done something that rattles you too, but I want to know what happened today and why you clung to me like a wet cloth soon as I got in.” 

“Nothing happened love, nothing I --” Vic stopped taking as Fenris gave him that same look he would give one of the children when caught in a lie. 

“Then why is his leg broken, again? It wasn’t like that when we left.” 

Zevran’s gaze dropped to the floor. “That... was merely the result of my allowing my fears to get the better of me,” he said quietly. His shoulders slumped slightly. “It was not Invictus’ fault; do not be angry with him.”

“Stop giving me that damned hang dog look.” Fenris said before rounding on his husband. “You, what did you do to him Vic? Did you do this, get too rough playing?” 

Zevran lifted his head to stare at Fenris. “I made him spar with me.”

“Sparring? You did this sparring!?” Fenris yelled as he kept looking between them. “Why, why were you even walking without crutches? You can’t even ride one of us lately but you were sparring!” the elf’s voice rose as he couldn’t believe how stupid two of his spouses had been. 

“Er, he came damned near to killing Invictus,” interjected Garrett from the doorway, flinching back as Fenris rounded on him. “It’s true! Callus and I saw the whole thing! He was fighting on that leg! Did you get a good look at the dummy in the sparring ring? That was newly-built by Callus this morning and Zevran’s wrecked it! I had to throw Invictus my staff to give him a fighting chance!”

Zevran had flinched slightly as Fenris shouted; he now looked torn between apologetic and amused at mention of the dummy and settled for an attempt at looking serious. With one corner of his mouth twitching slightly and his ears slightly flattened, it didn’t entirely succeed.

“I would not have killed my husband,” he said quietly. “Besides, he still had his magic.”

“Callus has hidden your knives,” added Garrett as he stared at Zevran. The Antivan slapped the table hard in a brief flash of anger, all signs of mirth gone from his face.

“Do not dare say a word, not one. He did it to keep you from hurting yourself further Zevran Hawke. I will tie you to the bed and not in a fun way if you do something so stupid again, am I clear?” Fenris said as he got in Zevran’s face and pushed him back down. 

“Fenris? Leto… it wasn’t…” Vic just shut up and lowered his head at the glare he got. “I’ll just stop talking now.”

Zevran had flinched visibly as Fenris shoved him down and loomed over him; he closed his eyes and gave a silent gasp as Fenris turned to glare at Invictus.

“Zevran?” said Hal. He’d been leaning against the counter with his arms folded, watching silently, but straightened as he saw the Antivan blanche slightly.

“It is nothing,” replied Zevran tersely, lowering his face so that Fenris couldn’t see his face. 

“Liar, you just got three shades paler when I forced you to sit.” Fenris paced around wanting to yell but sure it would just make the other elf slide under the table. He finally stopped at the head of the table and started rattling off orders. 

“Callus and Garrett, eat and then start your chores. Invictus, you and Hal see what healing he needs and then get him to our room. I’m going to eat and fetch Anders back inside and then I’m taking a long hot bath with a bottle of Antivan brandy and no one is going to fight, or argue or walk without help until evening. Am I clear?” Fenris had used _his_ instructor voice without realizing it, making everyone stop. 

Zevran leaned forward and rested his arms on the table before lowering his forehead to them. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “I am not walking anywhere. And if you are going to drink my brandy then the least you could do is offer me a glass.”

“Your brandy?” Fenris asked in a low voice. He was angry at everyone being foolish around him. “Fine, I’ll get your brandy then.” he looked around to see the rest of them standing around. “Move!”

“Don’t yell, we had enough of that already this morning, Fenris,” Vic said before hurrying to sit next to Zevran and coax him upright so he could help him out. 

Zevran lifted his head to glance up at Fenris; his face was pale, his forehead beaded lightly with sweat. “ _Carissimi_... please. Let me explain to you.” He closed his eyes as he straightened slightly. “I... do not wish to be a burden. Useless. I was trying to prove that I was not a cripple, that I could still fight.” He laughed suddenly. “I have failed at that, have I not? Perhaps the only person I was really trying to prove it to was myself - and there I have failed also. And now you are angry at us all, and thus I have failed again.” He lowered his head. “Invictus, take me to the bedroom please. I will be no more trouble to anyone. Let Fenris drink brandy, and let me reflect on my foolishness.”

Fenris sighed and counted to ten in his head before speaking. “I’m angry because I have come back to you hurting and all of you acting like this. I will join you once I’ve had lunch, I’m irritated and taking it out on everyone. Vic, take care of our love would you?” 

“Of course Fen, come on Zev, up you get.” Vic helped him up and took one crutch while he held him around the waist on his good side. 

Zevran was silent as Invictus helped him to the bedroom; though he struggled upon the stairs, even with Invictus’ help, he said nothing. When they reached the bedroom, Zevran lay down and turned his back to the door. 

“Invictus, that sleeping draught which you asked Anders not to make? If you look in the little black chest upon the dressing table, you will find a few vials of it there. Be so good as to bring me one please.” His voice was low and dull.

Invictus frowned at his request, unsure about granting it. “There’s a reason Anders stopped making it. I am worried you want that potion Zevran, talk to me.” 

“Fenris is angry because once again, I am hurt,” said Zevran quietly. “It... disquiets me when he is so aggressive in his disapproval. I... do not wish to be shouted at. Nor do I wish to be a burden or trouble anyone. If I am sleeping then no-one can be troubled, no? Let me sleep, my love. I can come to no harm in dreams. I have been a foolish man and would not inflict further foolishness on you all. But I am also troubled, because I do not remember Ellowynne putting me to sleep, and from Fenris’ words I fear that she may have done it often. So. I do not wish magic to help me sleep and must resort to the draught. Will you give it to me, or must I use something less kind?” 

“You know Fen is just upset at coming back to you hurt and me, not quite right. I don’t feel right giving this to you Zevran, why don’t you wait until Fenris joins you and talk for once?” Invictus had the vial in his hands but didn’t step forward with it. 

Zevran turned his head to look at Invictus. “I have poisons within my reach that will put me out but not pleasantly,” he said softly. “And I do not think you wish to see me use them.”

“Do you want me to call for Anders or Fenris to talk sense into you? I will tie you up too and like he said it won’t be for fun times. Or I’ll nick your poison belt from under the bed, where you are reaching for it. I haven’t been around you this long to not pick up on your tells Zev.” Vic leaned back and waited for the elf’s reply.

Zevran froze, then slowly moved back to lie against the pillows. He could feel the cold, hard glass of the vial he’d managed to grab, pressed hard against his wrist now inside his sleeve. It was one of the shorter-acting sedatives; he knew by the knots in the thin hemp cord; he wasn’t sure which one though. He lay still as he stared at Invictus, trying to decide if the mage was calling a bluff or seriously intended to make good on his threat.

“If you tie me to the bed, that will likely be uncomfortable,” he agreed. “Possibly even painful if you are not careful of my leg. Come, let me sleep a little, eh? Half the vial?” He was feeling with a forefinger for the head of the small pin inserted in the top of the vial he had hidden. A swift jab - Invictus would be none the wiser. 

“No, I will not aid in you drugging yourself with poison. Why won’t you wait for Fenris so you can talk? I’ll give him the vial and once you speak, without yelling he’ll give you half a vial. Is that alright?” Vic said as he rolled the vial in his hand.

“You know he will not give it to me,” answered Zevran. He was slowly working the pin free with a fingernail, moving slowly so as not to draw Invictus’ attention.

“He will, he can see you’re in a bad way. Do you really think he’d let you suffer Zevran?” Vic’s voice was soft as he stared at the elf, concerned he would think that of their love.

The pin was free. He could feel the poison slowly seeping onto his fingers and the shaft of the pin. He held it poised, pressed against the inside of his wrist.

“I am afraid, Invictus,” he whispered. “If you will not let me sleep then....” He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. 

“Then what? You’ll argue with me, or make a dash for your poisons anyway?” Vic sighed as he finally approached the bed with the vial in hand. “Why are you being like this? I just want you and Fenris to talk first is all.”

Zevran stared up at him. He could feel the point of the needle pressed against the vein, the poison pooling cool against his skin. He swallowed hard.

“I am in pain. And I am frightened of Fenris’ anger. I also wish to be no trouble to any of you. Let me sleep, and then all three cease to be a problem.” He hesitated, then gave a little apologetic laugh. “And you are too late and unobservant, my love.” He turned his arm over to show the poisoned needle pressed against his vein, one forefinger braced against the end.

“I could have dosed myself already. I have not, as you see. I am not quite sure which one this is - a short-acting one, I think. But it would stop the pain for a little while.” He stared up at Invictus, who was staring at the needle, horrified.

“Why would you do this? Are you in so much pain you’d rather poison than talk with our love? Really Zevran, really?” Vic asked as he stood there, sure if he approached the elf would finish poisoning himself. 

“I cannot think clearly,” murmured Zevran as he closed his eyes. “I do not wish to fight with Fenris. I do not wish to be yelled at. I want the pain to stop.” He lay still; the point of the needle still resting against his vein. Poison was slowly dripping down the shaft and pooling in the slight indentation in the elf’s skin, but Invictus couldn’t see any blood. Zevran’s finger was trembling slightly as he continued to hold the needle there.

“You know what, just do it. Use the poison and I’ll tell Fenris to let you sleep it off. I’m not going to fight you again. Just sleep.” Vic said tiredly, turning to put the vial back. 

Zevran pressed hard against the end of the needle then shuddered as it jabbed into his vein. He gave a sudden gasp and went rigid, eyes flying wide open as a sensation as of ice surged up his arm along the vein. He tried to cry out, but no sound would come except a strangled gasp. Then his vision went dark.

“Fucking Void.” Vic said as he leaned over to be sure the elf still breathed. Zevran’s skin felt cool to the touch and he looked dead save for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest. Invictus backed away slowly, shaking his head before leaving and heading back downstairs to find Fenris had stretched out on one of the couches with his head in Hal’s lap. 

Hal glanced up as Invictus stood there, staring down at Fenris and looking rather shaken.

“Invictus? Is Zevran alright?” asked Hal, concerned.

“No. No, he’s not,” replied the mage. “But he’s sleeping. I think.”

“You _think_?” echoed Hal slowly.

“Is he asleep or did he fool you?” Fenris asked quietly as he laid there, unwilling to move just yet.

“He took one of his poisons,” said Invictus heavily. “Said he was desperate to sleep, in too much pain to think clearly. He said it was a short-acting one. He’s alive, but I think he’s unconscious. Maker, I _hope_ he is. It looked unpleasant.”

Hal stiffened. “I... felt nothing?” he whispered.

Fenris rolled his head to look up at Hal. “Do you want to check on him then?” he asked tiredly.

Hal stared down at Fenris with a look of disbelief. “Fenris. Zevran was apparently in so much pain he just poisoned himself to make the pain stop. Do I want to -!” He pushed at the elf. “Get up. Quickly.” 

As Fenris sat up with a frown, Hal leapt to his feet and raced out into the hall and up the stairs; a moment later they heard a loud exclamation of dismay.

A moment later they heard the back door flung open and then the sound of Anders running up the stairs towards the bedroom.

“I guess that’s bad if they both ran upstairs like that?” Fenris asked as he got up and headed for the stairs.

“You guess? Fenris wait, come back here and let’s wait for them to call us, so we can talk.” Vic asked, worried at how the elf would take news that Zevran feared his temper.

“What is it Invictus? They both ran up to check on him so I’m worried.” the elf said tersely.

“If you run in there angry, and yelling you’re going to scare Zevran even more than you have already. Just try to be calm, please love.” Vic pleaded then threw his hands up when the elf dashed away from him. 

Fenris burst into the bedroom to find Anders pulling a long sharp needle out of Zevran’s wrist; he dropped it into the handbasin which Hal held out to him; the younger mage was studying intently a small vial of silver liquid. 

“Don’t touch that,” Anders warned him as he turned back to Zevran. The Antivan elf looked dead, but after a moment Fenris realised he was breathing - just very slowly.

“What did he do?” he asked as he approached the bed, worried for what he’d done or taken. 

Anders sighed. “I’m guessing he didn’t want to worry or trouble us so decided not to tell us how much pain he was in and deal with it himself. I’m not sure what, exactly, is in that vial, but it’s evidently from his poison stash. I wish I knew what, exactly, so I’d have some idea how long-lasting it is and what the after-effects are likely to be.”

“He said it was a short-duration one,” said Invictus from the door.

“He’d rather poison himself than let me in?” Fenris asked softly as he stared at the blond elf. After a while he left the room and went back to the parlor. 

Hal regarded the vial in his hand warily. “What I don’t understand is why I couldn’t sense his pain whilst sitting downstairs yet you could feel it from the other end of the garden?” he said slowly.

“Sensory overload,” said Anders absently as he laid a hand over the small puncture wound in Zevran’s wrist; his hand began to glow blue as he began to channel healing magic. “It can happen sometimes - when a Spirit Healer experiences far too much pain all at once, particularly if they’re already in pain themself. It can be a cause of burnout sometimes - three of the healers back at Skyhold had to be sedated for several days after the Clearing, and one never returned to the infirmary afterwards. It can take a while to be able to pick up on the pain of others again. It’s a protective reaction.”

“But you felt - Ar-” Hal broke off and closed his eyes briefly. “You felt _his_ pain. But you’re not overloaded.”

Anders shrugged. “Got used to it with the Wardens, to a certain extent. If you’re exposed to enough of it over time, you learn to channel through it - or to block out the effects on yourself. helps if you don’t have a direct connection to the source of the pain.”

“Should I do anything about Fenris? He just walked off looking a bit out of it. I wonder if I made a mistake telling him how Zevran was afraid of him losing his temper and yelling.” Vic said as he watched from the other side of the bed.

Anders glanced up at him, surprised. “Zevran was afraid of him?”

Hal shuffled nervously. “Fenris... got in his face earlier and was very angry. Zevran... actually flinched away from him. If he was already in pain, that probably made it worse and I can see why perhaps he didn’t want to face that again. Fenris _is_ pretty scary when he’s angry.”

“He’s much bigger than Zevran, hell he’s taller than me by an inch or so but all muscle and fury when he’s gone all the way to the other end of things. _I_ get scared when he’s angry now, and don’t forget the way Zev checked out when he realized just how much Mythal had changed Fen.” Vic sighed tiredly as he considered what to do. 

“And Zevran has been doubting his abilities since he was injured,” said Anders as he moved his hand from Zevran’s wrist to the elf’s forehead. “If he were trapped and unable to get away from Fenris by his broken leg then I can see why Fenris’ anger would unnerve him.”

“Hell I can run from Fenris and he unnerves me when he’s on a tear. Do you have any idea which one could be an antidote?” Vic said as he laid out the belt with vials, needles and other implements. “How does he even remember these?” 

“There are no labels on any of these,” remarked Hal. “How does he even know what they all are?”

“Types of cords used, knots in the cords,” Anders replied. “He needs to be able to pick a poison by touch in the dark. I’m afraid I can’t read it though; maybe Callus could.”

“I hope so, or we’ll have to hope he didn’t just slowly start to kill himself.” Vic said before going out to call his step-son. “Callus, we need you up here.”

The young elf ran up the stairs. “Father’s hitting the brandy in the parlour, he -” He halted just inside the door and stared at Zevran. “Master Zevran?” he said, eyes widening.

“Callus, Zevran dosed himself with a sedative - the one in the vial Hal is holding,” said Anders without turning around. “I need you to tell me its effects, its duration, and whether there is an antidote.”

Callus took the vial from Hal and studied the hemp cord and the three small knots tied in the end of it. “Sedative - depending on dose, anywhere from an hour to four hours - how was it administered?”

Hal held out the basin and Callus eyed the needle with a professional eye. “About an hour then,” he nodded. “Not pleasant to take - hurts going in, feels like ice in the veins until it reaches the heart - then out like a light. No particularly harmful after-effects apart from feeling rather spaced out for perhaps an hour or two afterwards. If left alone, he’d likely just sleep through that.”

“And he would experience no pain whilst under its influence?” asked Anders.

“None at all,” shrugged Callus. He picked out a small, pale green vial with a hemp cord and three knots. “This is the antidote - but why did he take it in the first place?”

“He.. was in pain from re-breaking his leg, and your father got in his face too. Zevran ...you saw how he was after he forced me into sparring, he just wanted to rest and the crafty little bastard still used a poison after he seemed like he was cooperating with me to get Fenris in here to chat.” Vic glanced to the Antivan, glad he’d only be out a short while. 

Anders sat back. “Alright, if it’s that short a duration, I’ll apply a simple nerve block to relieve his pain and we’ll leave him to sleep,” he decided.

“Why is he in so much pain?” asked Callus. “He’s walked on a broken leg before.”

“But not fought on one,” replied Anders. “I think it must have been weakened by sparring and cracked at some point as he fought. He likely could tolerate it fine as long as it didn’t get jarred afterwards.”

“It did - when Fenris pushed him back into his seat,” said Hal with a small sigh. “And I had no idea.”

“Trying to get up the stairs will have made it worse too,” nodded Anders. “Vic, love, I think we need to make up the downstairs guest room for Zevran until his leg is healed. We can’t risk any further damage to his leg or he really _will_ end up crippled at this rate.”

Invictus glanced down at the bedding for a moment, his mouth dry suddenly. “Of course love, I’ll go get it ready for when he wakes up. Excuse me.” he hurried out of the room to get himself together, figuring it wouldn’t help to mention it had been Arden’s room during his stays with them.

Hal and Callus had both gone pale. Anders glanced between them, then at the door where Invictus had disappeared. He smiled reassuringly at them.

“It’s alright! As long as Zevran rests properly, he should make a full recovery and his leg will be as strong as it was before it was ever broken back in Skyhold,” he assured them.

“Oh! Oh. That’s, uh, that’s a relief,” smiled Callus queasily.

“Hal, perhaps you could go reassure Invictus? I know Zevran was very worried about being a burden and useless, but perhaps it will help if we can all reassure him.”

“Of course!” Hal smiled a little too brightly at Anders before leaving Callus alone with the bemused healer and the unconscious Antivan.

Hal found Invictus staring at the bed in the downstairs guest room, clean linen in his hands as he stared at the empty bed, a haunted look upon his face.

“It’s like I can almost hear his voice,” murmured Invictus.

Hal backed away then turned and fled to the parlour. “Fenris! Fenris, Vic, he- he needs....” His voice trailed off as the elf turned and stared at him.

“What does Vic need now Hal? He’s done plenty today.” the fighter said before taking another swig of the near empty bottle. 

Hal clenched his hands into fists at his sides and took a deep, steadying breath. “Zevran needs to be moved to a downstairs room until his leg has healed - Anders thinks that going upstairs damaged it and to avoid the risk of Zevran ending up crippled if it heals badly, he wants Zevran to avoid the stairs. Which means Arden’s -” He broke off as his voice choked. “Our - our old room. Where... where he was -” He was beginning to hyperventilate and had to take a moment to calm himself.

“Invictus went in there to prepare the room. But he’s just standing there, and - and I’m worried. I think he needs you, Fenris.”

The warrior glared at Hal before letting the emptied bottle drop the sideboard and heading into the room. “Vic, can you hear me?” Fenris said as he leaned against the doorway holding it up or maybe it held him up as he stared at his husband. 

Invictus was staring at a discoloured patch on the carpet with something akin to horror. He lifted his eyes towards Fenris. “I thought I got it all,” he murmured. “I scrubbed. I scrubbed it all - all except -” he looked around the room as though looking for something.

“Thought you got all of what? What is it?” Fenris asked as he carefully made his way into the room and fell more than sat into the chair by the bed. 

“Uncle Vic?” asked Ellowynne as she followed Fenris into the room. She was carrying something in her hands. “Look what I found. I don’t think it’s yours, is it?”

She held out a brown leather belt stained with dried blood.

Invictus turned to see what she had for him to see and he screamed, pointing at it and screaming before he back pedaled away from the little girl and almost tripped over the linens he’d fumbled.

Hearing that noise out of Invictus startled Fenris to his feet even though he was still drunk. “Why is he screaming like that? What in the Void?” he turned to Ellowynne in confusion. “Where did you find that?”

Hal paused by the door. “Invictus?” he exclaimed, startled, then grunted as Callus barged through the door, accidentally shouldering him out of the way.

“I heard screaming, is -” Callus broke off as he stared at the belt in Ellowynne’s hand.

“Cal, you know who this belongs to, don’t you?” she said with a grin.

“Arden,” choked Hal as he stared at the bloodstained belt. “I gave it to him a year ago! I’d know that buckle anywhere! But - but where - the blood, h-how -”

Ellowynne smiled at Hal then looked up at Callus. “ _He_ knows,” she said in a sing-song voice before she reached out, took hold of Callus’ hand, and put the belt into it. “No, wait, that’s not how you held it, was it?” She unwound it, placed the buckle in the palm of Callus’ hand, then wound a length of the belt around his hand, pressing his thumb about it. “That was it, wasn’t it?”

She smiled up at Callus, whose hand had begun to tremble. She smiled, then turned to Fenris. “Callus has been very, very naughty, Uncle Fenris.” Then she turned and walked from the room.

Hal was staring at Callus in horror. “You... it was _you...._ ” he breathed, before sliding to the floor in a dead faint. 

The older elf glanced at the belt in his son’s hand then at Hal who had fainted dead away at Invictus’ feet. He looked at Callus, unsure whether to yell or be unsurprised at his son knowing just how to hold a belt to beat someone. 

“Callus, did you...beat Arden?” Fenris asked quietly, as he dropped his gaze to the younger elf’s shaking hand. “That’s how you beat someone, the way you are holding it.” 

Callus swallowed hard and let the belt drop to the floor. “Papa... I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill him, I swear. But when he nearly killed Master Zevran - and Master Anders nearly died, and he - he told Hal he didn’t want him anymore and - Papa, I couldn’t let him walk away from that! And - and so I came in here and yes, I intended to beat him, and I guess he felt guilty or something because he handed me his own belt and knelt for me to do it but I _swear_ I didn’t kill him, Papa!” He stared at his father and then dropped to his knees at Fenris’ feet. “Papa, I swear I didn’t do it!”

“When did this happen Cal?” Fenris sounded strangely detached as he looked at the youth at his feet, turning only when he heard a thud behind him. “Well, shit.” he said at seeing Invictus sprawled on the floor. “Let’s get them in the parlor then you and I are going to speak Callus.” 

Shaken, Callus could only nod. Carefully he gathered up Hal in his arms and carried him into the parlour where he laid the young mage out gently before turning as Fenris followed after to do the same with Invictus.

Once the two mages were settled in the parlor, Fenris dragged Callus to the room and shut the door, pointing at the belt. “My earlier question, when did you do that Callus Leto Hawke? Why did you do it?” 

“I told you the why, Papa,” said Callus quietly as he stood before his father with his head bowed. “As for when, it was after you attempted to restrain him with ropes. It was why he stayed locked in here for nearly a week until he slipped out and you went after him. It’s why he was bandaged up.” He lifted his head and stared at Fenris. “But I swear I didn’t kill him. I laid hands on him only the once, and never again.”

“Why did I have to learn about this from Ellowynne? Where was the belt? What did I do wrong that you even thought to do to anyone what was done to us? Didn’t you get enough beatings as a slave to never want to do that to anyone else? What’s wrong with you Callus?” Fenris asked as he walked past his son and picked up the belt, turning it over in his hands. 

Callus closed his eyes. “I don’t know how Wynne knows, Papa,” he said. “I don’t know where she found the belt. I dropped it in the room after I’d done. And Papa, this is nothing you did. Blame Tevinter. He had hurt my Master, Master Anders might have died, and Hal - Hal is - like a brother to me, Papa. I couldn’t bear to see any of them hurt. And then I saw what it did to you, when he screamed and you - you went away, Papa, and I could see that somehow he’d hurt _you_ , Papa, and - and-” He clenched his hands into fists. “And I wanted to make him hurt too!” he shouted. He panted as he slowly let his hands uncoil, and then he reached to his collar and began unlacing his tunic as he sank to his knees.

Fenris tilted his head as he noticed Cal getting into position for a beating. “Callus, I swore never to hit you or Pin. Why are you on your knees, get up.” 

Callus finished stripping off his tunic and bowed his head. “Papa... when I hit Arden... I... enjoyed it,” he said, his ears drooping in shame. “Invictus said I would be punished, but - I knew I would have to face repercussions for what I did. I didn’t kill Arden, but perhaps he might have lived if I hadn’t beaten him before - before Invictus took him to the woodshed.” He closed his eyes. “I release you from your promise, Father. I am ready to be disciplined as you see fit.” He bowed his head and waited.

“Put your damn tunic back on, I’m not beating you. Go burn this belt and then you go back to Zevran, I have to think of a punishment when I’m not drunk and heartsick. Go Callus and if you see Ellowynne, send her to me please, I want to know why she did that.” Fenris sighed and opened the door to let light in to the dark room. 

Callus flinched, then reached for his tunic. “Papa... should it be burned? Hal... the belt meant something to him, you heard him. Maybe I should wash it and ask him what he wants done with it?” He glanced up at Fenris.

“Then go fucking wash it, as much as you can clean a blood soaked piece of leather. Hide it, I don’t care what you do just … get out of my sight for a while. I really regret drinking all that brandy. Why can’t anything go right, why?” Fenris asked himself as he picked up the bedding and began to make the bed.

Callus fled, his tunic in his hand.

Fenris had finished making the bed when Ellowynne entered the room. “You wanted to see me, Uncle Fenris?” she asked.

“Yes sweetheart, I wanted to know a couple things. Where did you get that belt and why did you come in and tell on Callus like that when Invictus was already upset, you had to hear him screaming, so why did you do it?” Fenris knelt down so he wasn’t looming over the girl while they spoke.

She smiled innocently. “I found it in the office, Uncle Fenris. I was chasing one of the cats and found it. I thought Callus would know whose it was; after all, that’s how I saw him holding it. Is Uncle Vic alright?”

“No, he’s not alright and you know that if you saw him in the parlor.” Fenris tried to be calm and not get angry with his step daughter but he was concerned for how she acted at times. “Wynne, I saw that devious look on your face when you gave him the belt, because I’ve had that same look when I know I’m doing wrong. You’re not in trouble, but I want to know why you did this when I know you could tell it was bad. Don’t lie to me, Imp.”

Ellowynne gave him an angelic smile as she reached out and touched two fingertips to his forehead.

Fenris woke up on the bed. What was he doing there?

He sat up slowly and groaned. His head was spinning. _Venhedis_ , he shouldn’t have drunk that whole bottle of brandy. At least he’d made the bed, but Vic and Hal must be worried. At least he knew Wynne was alright. She really shouldn’t have had to watch Callus beating Arden like that; not the poor child’s fault she’d seen such a horrible thing - or found that wretched belt.

He must think of some nice treat for her. Another kitten perhaps.

He put it out of his mind as he went into the parlour where he found Invictus sitting up groggily and looking around in confusion. “Hey, you sound as good as I feel.” Fenris said as he sat next to his husband. “Get a good nap?”

Hal was stirring; he turned his head, his eyes still closed, one hand drifting up his chest until it rested against his throat and then softly sighed before slowly opening his eyes and blinking.

“Where... where am I?” he murmured dazedly. 

“In the parlor, I think we were all tired after lunch.” Fenris said quietly. “Why don’t you go up and rest in bed and take this sleepy head with you and I’ll start dinner.” 

“Alright,” nodded Hal. He sat up slowly. “I feel like there’s something I’ve forgotten. Something important....”

“Same but I drank most of that bottle of brandy, that’s my excuse.” Fenris said before heading off to the kitchen.

Hal struggled slowly to his feet then managed to make it over to Invictus. “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hi” Vic said with a lazy grin for the other mage. “Did you come over here just for another nap?” he asked.

Hal put his hand to his head and swayed slightly. “I... don’t remember? I feel strange. Maybe I’m ill? I... don’t feel right.”

“I think we both need to lie down like Fenris suggested, come up to bed with me.” Vic suggested as he tugged Hal to him and towards the stairs. 

Anders was standing at the top of the stairs, looking worried. “Vic? I’ve been waiting for you - I can’t get Zevran downstairs to the other guest room by myself. What took you so long?”

Invictus blinked. “The guest room?” He frowned. “Oh. Sorry, I... must have forgotten? Just woke up from a nap.”

Anders stared at him in surprise. “You... _forgot?_ And took a _nap?_ ” He stared at Hal who was yawning. “Both of you?” Anger began to creep into his voice. “Zevran is in a lot of pain and needs to be downstairs, and you both _forgot??_ ”

“Love, I’m really sorry!” exclaimed Invictus. “Hang on, let me create a small portal to the guest room so he doesn’t have to face the stairs again.”

They went into the bedroom, where Zevran was awake. His face was drawn with pain though he managed a brief smile for his husbands and Hal.

“My love, I had thought you had forgotten me,” he said. “I hope you will forgive me?”

“Zev, you had me really worried,” exclaimed Invictus as he hurried to the bedside to take the elf’s hand. He turned it over and rubbed a thumb gently over the spot where the needle had been. “I don’t know what that was you took, but it looked unpleasant. I thought you were dead for a moment.”

“It was... briefly painful,” admitted Zevran. “For a moment I feared I had taken the wrong vial, but thankfully I had at least a little respite. I fear I am paying dearly for our little sparring session, my love.”

“We’re going to get you moved into the downstairs guest room until your leg is healed, Zevran,” said Anders.

Zevran’s face fell. “I am exiled from our bed?”

“Only temporarily!” Anders hastily assured him. “And you won’t be alone - we’ll take it in turns to spend the night with you! And at least downstairs you can rest yet still be close to everyone during the day. We’ll bring down your clothes and belongings - including all your knives. And this way you won’t have to face the stairs. And Vic’s going to open a portal directly there so you don’t have to struggle down the stairs either.”

“I’m so sorry love, forgive me. I think our match wore me out more than I realized, I fell sound asleep for a bit.” Vic said before stepping back to open a portal. “Hal, can you help him through and I’ll carry his things down.”

Anders and Hal managed to get Zevran onto his feet and through the portal into what would be Zevran’s room for the next six weeks or so. They settled him into the bed, with extra pillows to help him sit up; by the time they’d done that Invictus had followed after with Zevran’s possessions. It was with certain misgivings he placed the belt with all Zevran’s poisons within easy reach in the bedside drawer.

Invictus sat with him until there was a knock and he heard Fenris’s voice before the door opened and he entered with a tray in hand for the other elf. “Hey love, I would have got the door for you.”

“No need, I didn’t know if Zevran was alone or not. Dinner is ready if you want to join the others, I’ll be back after I get this one taken care of.” Fenris gave Vic a kiss before setting the tray over the blond elf’s lap, and taking a seat near the bed.

Zevran’s hand moved as Invictus rose, as though to halt the mage, before he drew it back and gave Invictus an uncertain smile then turned his gaze to the food in front of him.

Vic waved at them before leaving the two elves alone for a while. With their mage husband gone, Fenris turned to see how Zevran had gone rather still and not looking at him. 

“Not hungry? Do you need anything else?” he asked. 

Zevran began eating slowly. “Side effect of the drug I took perhaps,” he shrugged, not looking up. “It is not without certain unpleasant side effects. But it did give me some time without pain.”

“I’m worried about you, that you resorted to poison Zevran. Why did you do that love, Vic could have put you to sleep easily after giving you potions.” Fenris asked as he reached over to catch Zevran’s drink before it could tip over. 

Zevran glanced up sharply at Fenris’ words. “No magic! I-” At realising how close Fenris was, his eyes widened and he had to check himself as he felt himself start to flinch, forcing himself instead to stay still. “No magic,” he repeated in a low whisper. “I do not wish to be sent to sleep like that. And Invictus would not give me the sleeping draught. The drug was a last resort - and the one I managed to hide from him was snatched hastily; he realised my intent and sought to remove them from my reach. Still, unpleasant as it was, it did give me respite.” He lowered his glance as he gave up pretense at eating and leaned back, rubbing the inside of his wrist absently.

The warrior noted the panicked note in his husband’s voice and the way he went far too still after he leaned in. He moved back and stared at the other elf, debating on whether to say something or let it lie since Zevran seemed far too tense for his liking. 

Zevran remained still apart from the motion of his thumb over the vein on the inside of his wrist; it was only after Fenris had remained silent for several minutes that he turned his head slightly to look at Fenris uncertainly.

The other elf folded his arms and leaned further back in the chair to see if Zevran would speak up. He felt something wasn’t right but couldn’t tell what it was. 

It was Zevran who dropped his gaze first. “I... was concerned you might still be angry with me, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly. “Am I forgiven? I think I have paid enough of a price for my foolishness, yes?” He gestured towards his splinted leg.

“I’m not angry, I wouldn’t have brought you dinner if I was.” Fenris replied, still staring at the other elf. “I was ...frustrated, and more angry that you managed to hurt yourself after hearing something Vic didn’t say. He was concerned he told me, nothing more and nothing less. You’re forgiven because you could not look more miserable if you wanted to.” 

He rose slowly and pulled the chair back to where it belonged. “I’m going to have dinner, I’ll be back after, if you will stop being so jumpy around me Zevran.” 

The Antivan looked up at that, startled, golden eyes widening slightly. Then he glanced away as though ashamed. “For that, I must ask you to forgive me also,” he said softly.

“Yes, now ...please eat something I’m sure you haven’t had a regular meal with everything going on. I”ll be back later.” Fenris gave him a wan smile before turning to go. 

“Fenris,” said Zevran hesitantly. “I would... like it if....”

Fenris halted and turned back. “Zevran?”

“Please eat with me?” The elf’s eyes were on his own food, his voice subdued.

Fenris turned back and returned to the bedside, lowering himself to sit on the edge. “Zevran. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Zevran laughed, but it sounded slightly off. “You must think me foolish, no? But I find I... do not wish to be alone, _carissimi_ , and seeing as Invictus has abandoned me - Anders and Hal too... well, no, I should not be more of a burden to you all than I have already become by my hotheadedness. Go, I shall eat.” He took up his fork and poked his food unenthusiastically.

Fenris sighed and caught himself before he was snippy with the other elf. “No one has abandoned you. I’ll get a tray and join you. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back.” 

Zevran winced slightly, his face hidden by his hair. He had been striving for a light-hearted tone but evidently had failed miserably. He opened his mouth to tell Fenris it had merely been a joke - Anders, at least had stayed with him even when it seemed Invictus and Hal had not returned; he had been dazed and bewildered when he awoke to find Anders pacing his room anxiously, darting many glances at the door. But the joke it seemed had fallen flat. He merely nodded, signifying he had heard Fenris.

The other elf gave him a genuine smile before heading back to the kitchen, where he hurried to make a plate for himself, even dessert for both of them before returning to join his husband. After pulling the small table over so they could be close. “I brought us dessert, Pin made cake while we were all napping apparently.”

Zevran looked up from his food and frowned. “You... all took naps? But... it was barely past noon?”

At that Fenris gave him a sheepish grin. “I...might have dipped into your brandy a bit. I’ll replace it!” 

Zevran gave him a look of tragic betrayal. “My Antivan brandy! You have stolen my last bottle! Alas, I am undone - how can I ever forgive you, _carissimi_?” He threw the back of his hand against his forehead and dramatically faked a swoon back upon his pillows. 

“You realize I can teleport to Antiva right now and replenish it, right? Please don’t be upset with me.” Fenris gave him a pitiful, pitiful look he had cultivated over the years to get out of a tight spot.

Zevran straightened with a delighted smile as he flung his arms out. “Ah, it is a miracle, I am restored to happiness! I have reason to live once more!” 

“Shall I go get us some brandy from your beloved land and we can toast your amazing recovery?” Fenris asked as he let the other elf tug him down. 

Zevran kissed him then drew away a little to gaze into his eyes. “In a moment,” he said, quieter. “ _Carissimi_... forgive my weakness. I merely jested; I know I was not abandoned. But it is strange... I have never been afraid to be alone, but now? I find the prospect almost unbearable.” He release Fenris as he continued to gaze at him, something naked and vulnerable in his gaze. “You remember, when originally my leg was broken, how I chafed at my inactivity and perhaps pushed myself too hard to continue my work as Spymaster, even with Callus as my apprentice? And now I do not even have that to prove my continued worth. I did not mean to upset you - or Invictus; I should not have forced him to spar with me like that. But I needed to prove to myself that I am not a useless cripple - that I will not be a burden to you all, that I can still fight. And instead I have done precisely the opposite and only made myself more helpless.”

He lowered his gaze. “And now I must ask your forgiveness also for my insecurity. All I know how to do is to fight and to fuck. And the one is denied me by my own actions, and perhaps the other also from what you said to me earlier. What, then, is left for me?” He curled his hands slowly into fists. “Crippled. Weak. Useless. Helpless. A burden upon those I love, good for nothing. I _am_ nothing. That is what the voice in my head tells me, and I fear it to be the truth.”

Fenris leaned back so he could stare into Zevran’s eyes as he spoke. He took the other elf’s hands in his, hoping he was heard this time around. “Zevran Arainai Hawke, you are not useless, or a burden. You can be incredibly stupid at times, especially when you are set on something you’re like a mabari with a bone.I think you have proved beyond a doubt you’re not helpless, you bested Invictus with a damn near broken knee and in a lot of pain. Vic told me how it went, and no one would think you helpless after that. Foolish, definitely but never helpless.”

He laid a finger over the blond elf’s lips even as Zevran was about to protest. “Let me finish.” at the other elf’s nod, he went on. “The Crows broke you in a lot of ways, including this fear of being a burden I think. You’re my husband and I love you so much, it hurts to see this doubt in your heart. Please know you are not here for your usefulness, or until we can discard you. We love you Zevran Hawke, and you don’t have to worry about being a burden. It's one I would bear with a smile until the Veil separates us.” He leaned in to kiss the other elf deeply, until he needed to breathe. As he leaned back, he saw tears on Zevran’s cheeks, and the breath the Antivan drew was a ragged sob.

Zevran was unable to speak. perhaps it was the pain of his leg or something from the remains of the drug in his system, but he felt almost overwhelmed by Fenris’ declaration.

“Stay with me tonight?” he managed to whisper. “I cannot bear to sleep alone.” 

“Of course, let me get rid of these trays and I’m all yours.” Fenris kissed him again quickly before setting their trays out and shutting the door. He stripped off and climbed into bed carefully and pulled the other elf into his arms. “Better?”

Zevran nodded as he curled against Fenris, as much as his splinted leg would allow. Shifting himself around caused a jagged spike of pain from his leg but he willed it away as he rested his head against Fenris’ chest. he closed his eyes.

There was a tap at the door. “Uncle Zevran?” called Ellowynne from the other side of the door. “Are you awake, Uncle Zevran?”

Zevran went utterly still as his eyes snapped open.

“We’re not decent Imp, and your uncle is tired. We’ll see you in the morning.” Fenris called out before letting his head hit the pillow again. 

“I just want to give Uncle Zevran a goodnight kiss,” said Ellowynne, her voice all innocence.

“Do not let her in,” Zevran whispered, the words barely breathed.

“Sorry Wynne, I’ll give him a kiss for you ok? I’ll see you at breakfast alright, your uncle loves you but he’s tired and hurting.” Fenris said though he was curious about the other elf’s reaction.

There was an odd scratching noise on the other side of the door - something being trawled slowly across the wooden surface.

“Alright, Uncle Fenris. Goodnight.” He heard her footsteps retreating. Only when all was silent once more did Zevran relax, going limp in Fenris’ arms as he closed his eyes.

“What was that about? You have never been afraid of her before.” Fenris asked fearfully. 

“I cannot explain it, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran murmured. “But there is something unnatural about that child. She has been bewitching me, sending me to sleep. I sit in my chair in the parlour and then suddenly it is hours later and I have slept the day away.”

Fenris blinked and considered earlier, when he awoke and couldn’t remember even getting in bed, let alone being so tired early in the day. He frowned as he barely recalled that she had---. “Vishante kaffas, she did that to me earlier after I’d spoken to Callus...about something, that I can’t remember.” 

Zevran gave a queer little gasping sob and shivered. “There is a monster in our midst, and I dare not say a word to Anders - it would destroy him! And yet... I fear her. She preys upon me. When I awaken, I feel weak, as though something had drained my very life whilst I slept. Do not let her near me, _carissimi_!”

“Easy, easy we’ll be alright. I will try to suss out what is going on with her, as it would kill Anders if she were found to be possessed. But this cannot go on, she got to me, and probably Vic and Hal since they were confused as I was upon waking. I’ll talk to Pin tomorrow. For now, we rest and I’m going to lock the door, for my own peace of mind.” Fenris said before extricating himself to lock and bar the door.

Barely had he returned to the bed than someone tried the door handle, and then they heard Anders’ voice, startled.

“Fenris? The door’s locked, love! Is there something wrong?”

Zevran had stiffened again, but at the sound of their husband’s voice he relaxed and closed his eyes with a low groan.

The warrior didn’t snap though he wanted to after just getting settled in bed. “Nothing is wrong, I just locked the door so we wouldn’t be disturbed tonight.” Fenris asked as he wrapped a sheet around his waist and started for the door. 

As he opened the door, he was greeted by Anders looking apologetic. “I’m sorry love - I just wanted to check on Zevran; he barely ate anything, from the looks of the tray you brought back. I’ve a couple of potions for him - one for the pain, and another to help him sleep if he’s still uncomfortable. I really don’t want him to have to resort to his poisons again.” He held up two small potion flasks. “If you two are planning to get up to anything tonight, I’d suggest it’s nothing too energetic. Maybe, uh, stick to a little light fellatio?” He blushed as he grinned then held out the potion flasks. “It’s fine to tie him to the bed, but not the broken leg. Uh. If you were planning on playing. Or. Uh. Whatever.” He’d gone bright red; he thrust the bottles into Fenris’ hands, leaned in to kiss the elf hastily, then began to back away.

“Um, call if you need anything? I’ll... just... go away now, yes, I’m going back to the kitchen....”

“Ok, we’ll be out tomorrow and let Cal know I’d like to speak with him after breakfast if he has plans. Love you, good night.” Fenris said before nudging the door shut and locking it again. He set the flasks on the bedside table before perching on the edge of the bed. “I sleep naked, why ...did he think we’d be...I hope my kids didn’t hear that, they already give me sly little looks.” 

Zevran regarded him with a sly smile. “I must say that the prospect is not unfavourable to me, _carissimi_ ,” he remarked. “And it is true that if I am tied to the bed then it would be much harder for me to move incautiously and cause more harm to myself. In fact I find I am most favourably disposed to the idea.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow at his husband, concerned at the rapid shift in his moods. He had gone from fear, to despair, and now wanting to fuck and play rough. He leaned in for a kiss but nothing else. Satisfied the door was shut and they wouldn’t have any more disturbances, he climbed back under the covers and stared down at the elf. “You’re not alright, and it makes me leery of rough play with you Zev.”

Zevran’s face fell. “You would not indulge me in this, not even to distract me for a little while, _carissimi_? I do not ask for much. I am not asking for you to be rough with me - but the idea of rope is pleasing to me, as is the thought of your mouth upon me.” He gave Fenris a pleading look. “I would like to feel your cock inside me very much, but if you are unwilling, then your mouth or your hand upon mine would also be good. It might tire me enough that I will not need the sleeping draught perhaps?”

Fenris tipped his chin up to make the other elf look at him. “I’d love nothing more than fuck you senseless, but you are in pain and you...poisoned yourself Zev. I am, uneasy still about tying anyone up after Anders capture. I will indulge you with my mouth at least, then tomorrow if you feel better, I’ll give you more of what you want, ok? We’ll figure out a way to keep you filled, and happy, just like you like it.” his voice had dropped as he spoke and stared into his husband’s eyes. 

Zevran’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes darkened with desire.

“Perhaps two or three fingers inside me and your mouth upon me might suffice, yes? If I cannot have your magnificent cock then we must find other ways. I had not considered how you might feel about rope since Sebastian laid hands upon our love however. I think you will never again be comfortable indulging in his darker desires - and perhaps be unhappy watching Invictus or I indulge him, no? Do not worry, I will not ask you for that. Although,” the sly little smile reappeared, “I would not be unhappy to feel the touch of your teeth?”

“You are naughty Zevran, pushing for more than I want to give tonight.” Fenris whispered in his ear before reaching down to untie his pants and sliding his hand in to find his husband hard already. “You like what I said then?”

“ _Carissimi_ , all the things you can do to me - the mere thought of your touch upon me and in me - yes, I wish to be filled, and is it any wonder that my body should react to that?” Zevran’s breath was coming a little faster now. “Touch me,” he whispered, a barely-voiced plea.

“Hmm maybe if you beg, I’ll fuck you after all. But we need to be careful of your leg, I do not wish to harm you further.” Fenris rumbled in his ear, slowly flicking his thumb over the head of Zevran’s cock as he pondered how to take him. 

Zevran shuddered, his pupils growing dark as he softly gasped, then very faintly moaned.

“ _Carissimi_... oh _carissimi_ , please... please, I beg of you, I need you!” He stared up anxiously into Fenris’ face. “Please, I beg you, do not be cruel to me!” He panted as Fenris began to slowly pump his hand upon Zevran’s cock, and then gave a soft whimper. “Fenris!”

Instead of giving in, the bigger elf continued to stroke him slowly, taking in every drawn breath, and the way his eyes widened as he reached the base of his cock, the way his stomach drew in as he drew a breath in. “I could watch you like this all night you know.” Fenris leaned over to kiss him as he sped up just a bit before leaning back to watch his husband come unraveled. 

Zevran was panting now and making little whimpering noises. He tried to arch up into Fenris’ touch and groaned with frustration as Fenris effortlessly kept him pinned with a hand upon his hip.

“Fenris... _carissimi_ , please! Oh, you are too cruel to me! Please!” Zevran begged. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly glazed as he writhed slowly beneath Fenris. “If I cannot have your cock, then please - your hand, two fingers - _anything!_ ” He whined very faintly.

“So needy… begging for me to have you. Did you bring toys down with you my love?” Fenris asked as he went faster pleased to see Zevran responding so eagerly .

“My pack,” Zevran gasped. “Always - always a couple in there, left pocket. Oil too.” He let out a small cry. “Oh please, hurry, I beg you!”

That made Fenris laugh as he pulled away to get things from the pack and the pain potion on the way. “Before fun, take this. I won’t hurt you more Zevran.” he uncorked it and held it out for the blond elf, who gave him an incredulous stare as if to say _now, you really want to stop for this?_ However he took it and downed it swiftly without a word, leaving Fenris to wonder if he did so merely to comply and return quickly to being pleasured by Fenris - or perhaps due to pain and a desire to have it lessen.

“So obedient for once, this pleases me.” Fenris said as he crawled into bed with the toys, then reached down to tug Zevran’s pants down and carefully pulled them off the other elf. He leaned down and licked his cock and took him down to the base with a pleased hum. 

Zevran cried out and tried to arch up off the mattress before a hand drifted down to rest lightly upon Fenris’ head. He whimpered Fenris’ name then moaned.

The bigger elf rested an arm across Zevran’s stomach to hold him down while he sucked him off, enjoying himself even more when he felt a tight pull to his hair. He sat back with a grin as he took the other elf in hand. “Such a good boy for me, what do you want as a reward?” 

Zevran groaned. “To be filled,” he whimpered. “Please... please, _carissimi_....”

“Call me Leto tonight, humor me.” Fenris said as he considered how to get Zevran into a position where he could fuck him. Finally he nudged the other elf to his side and got the oil and bigger of the toys to start off their fun. “You have to ask for it, tell me how bad you want it before I’ll fill you like you need.” 

Zevran let out a faint, pained gasp as he shifted over onto his side, the splinted leg heavy and ungainly as he dragged it across, then lay there panting a moment. “Leto,” he murmured weakly. “Please... I am aching for it. I need it. I need the distraction. I am begging for this. Please... fill me.”

“So needy, but since you asked so nicely I’ll take care of you.” Fenris slipped an oiled finger into Zevran’s ass, getting him slick before sliding in a second and fingering him slowly. “At my leisure though, I love watching you when I play like this.” 

Zevran arched his spine as he felt Fenris’ fingers slowly stretching him inside, scissoring to open him before delving deeper. He whispered “Leto...” very softly, one hand drifting down to his cock whilst the other trailed slowly across his chest to gently stroke a nipple, his eyes glazing slightly. “More, Leto... please?”

“More what? More of my fingers, or that toy you have, maybe my cock once I get you open a little more? I want to enjoy playing with you, I want to hear you ...I want to hear you begging me tonight Zev.” Fenris leaned down and nipped at the other elf’s ear. “I want to make you know what I felt when you beat my ass and made me cry for you.”

“Unfair, Leto,” whispered Zevran. “I would dearly love for you to repeat that favour upon me, but I do not think that exquisite pain would be stronger than the less-than-pleasant pain it would occasion in my leg... but I am sure you can find other ways to make me cry with pleasure?” He arched his head back and stroked a hand slowly along the length of his throat. “Your teeth, perhaps? I could beg for that, for your hand, the toy, your cock... everything you can give me, Leto, I will beg for it, plead for it - yes, even cry for it too - Leto, please, please!”

Fenris tilted his head at the other elf’s pleas before adding a third finger and speeding his thrusts. He smiled at Zevran as he watched the other elf’s eyes open wide when he twisted his fingers just so on the downstroke. “You're so responsive, so fucking eager and mine, I want to do so many filthy things to you.” he tapped two fingers against Zevran’s lips until he felt the other elf lapping at them, nipping with his teeth. 

Zevran groaned and whimpered, sucking and licking Fenris’ fingers and then parting his lips to let Fenris leisurely fuck his mouth with his fingers. As Fenris drew his fingers away, the Antivan gasped, “Leto, fuck me. I’m begging you. I want your cock in me or I think I might die. _Please._ ”

“Die? Surely you can’t mean that.” Fenris pulled his fingers free and gently lifted Zevran so he could get him on his stomach and put a pillow under him. He considered how to fuck the other elf and finally settled on supporting himself on his knees rather than lying over him. He was quiet as he oiled himself and started to slide in, but took his time. 

When Zevran felt him sliding in so slowly, he gasped and then began to plead, begging, his voice beginning to break. “ _Carissimi_ , please, this is torture, torment - _please_ , faster - I -”

He cried out with a sob as he felt Fenris finally sheathe himself fully inside him, and he bowed his head as he curled his fingers into the pillows. He swallowed, then after a moment he pushed back slightly against Fenris, mutely asking him to move.

“Tsk, tsk. Did I not say it was at my leisure? I thought you liked being full, hmm?” Fenris drawled as he let his fingers trail down the elf’s back and over his ass. He leaned forward so he could kiss Zevran’s shoulders and back as he started to stroke slow and hard while realizing he could watch them in the looking glass across the room. 

“Look at that, how wanton you are for me. Tomorrow, I think I’ll fuck your mouth while I watch in the mirror. Maybe, let you come, or maybe not. Would you like that?” Fenris asked before taking a moment to bite the tips of Zevran’s ears. 

Zevran lifted his head from the pillow to stare dazedly at their reflection in the mirror; his lips were parted as he gasped slowly for breath. His only answer was a soft moan, and then his eyes fluttered closed as Fenris’ teeth sank into the tip of his left ear. 

“Open your eyes and watch.” Fenris purred in his ear as he finally started moving faster, his gaze locked to their reflection as he gave in to the urge to go fast and hard. “Call my name when you come, I want to hear you begging as I fuck your brains out.”

Zevran’s eyes flew open, their golden gaze glazed and almost feverish as he gasped and writhed beneath Fenris. As Fenris thrust into him, hard and deep, Zevran’s breath was forced out of him in a high cry. He clutched at the pillows, knuckles whitening as he shuddered beneath the warrior, eyes wide and almost shocked.

“Leto -” he gasped, and then again, louder, “Leto!”

“Come for me, Zevran!” commanded Fenris as he rolled his hips before shifting his angle then thrusting deep again, pounding hard and swift into the slender Antivan. Zevran’s response was a shuddering keen as he clung almost desperately to the pillows then bit his lip as his eyes began to slide closed again.

“Keep your eyes open and on us!” growled Fenris before leaning forward to sink his teeth into Zevran’s shoulder, just where it curved up into his neck; Zevran practically sobbed as his eyes flew open again. 

“ _C-c-carissimi!_ ” he managed to get out.

“Come on, love, come for me!” purred Fenris as he gazed intently into Zevran’s eyes in their reflected image. “I want to hear you scream my name!”

“ _LETO!!_ ” howled Zevran, his body shuddering spasmodically, almost convulsing beneath Fenris before he screamed. He dropped his head into the pillows, hands clawing desperately at the bed as Fenris chased his own climax before finally the warrior cried out. He felt Zevran tremble beneath him as his thrusts slowed, and he rolled his hips almost lazily against Zevran. 

Fenris pulled away gently and slowly as he could before going to the basin for water and flannels to clean his husband, who sprawled limp, face down, his hands draped over the pillows they had been clawing moments before. “I love you Zevran.” he whispered in his ear as he took another pass with a warm flannel before moving him over to clean his front off. 

Zevran moaned faintly as Fenris rolled him over, his eyes closed. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he slurred faintly.

“I’m right here, it's ok.” he said as he helped get the smaller elf settled and comfortable. “Feel better love?” Fenris asked as he held his husband. 

Zevran had gasped faintly as Fenris moved him around to settle him; one hand clutched briefly at his thigh above the bandages, before the elf let it drop. Fenris’ only answer was another soft moan; the Antivan opened his eyes briefly, and Fenris saw a brief hint of glazed gold before Zevran closed them again. His body was sheened in perspiration and Fenris could feel Zevran’s heart still beating fast though his breathing was slowly deepening from the frantic pants of a few moments ago.

“Do you need me to get Anders, or do you want the other potion?” Fenris asked as he nuzzled at the other elf’s throat. “I might...need a few minutes to calm myself after that.” he muttered when he felt Zevran brush against his still-hard dick.

As he buried his face against Zevran’s neck, the Antivan let his head drop back, baring his throat as he gave a low sigh.

“The... the potion,” he slurred softly. His hand accidentally brushed against Fenris’ cock again as he shifted slightly; Fenris grunted and without thinking, began to sink his teeth into the tempting skin of Zevran’s throat before checking himself; the Antivan’s only response was a harsh indrawn breath and then a faint breathy moan.

“I’m sorry....you’re so tempting like this and I just want to, no I shouldn’t.” Fenris said as he reached over for the potion and thumbed it open. “Sometimes these gifts from Mythal are a damned curse.” he muttered before holding Zevran up to get him to drink.

“You... wish to take me again, _carissimi_?” said Zevran dazedly before swallowing the potion down. “Ohhhh... that is not Anders’ usual draught,” he murmured. “There is something different....”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?” Fenris asked. 

“No deathroot... but... hmm... poppy juice?” The Antivan’s voice had taken on a faintly bemused tone. “Oh. That is nice. That is... very nice.” He opened his eyes, and the pupils were blown wide and dark. He turned his head slowly to gaze at Fenris, and he gave him a dreamy smile. “Bite me again, Leto.” He tilted his head back invitingly.

“Much as I want to, I don’t think you’re entirely present even though...Mythal do I want to bite you until you bleed and fuck you slow, deep and until you can only think of my cock. But I don’t feel right doing that with you like this,” Fenris kissed his cheek and watched over him as he waited for the elf to sleep. 

“It doesn’t hurt any more,” breathed Zevran. “Oh... please bite me... I love to feel your teeth, Leto....” His eyes grew heavy, the gaze growing unfocused as he began to succumb to the potion. His head dropped back and he gazed sightlessly at the ceiling, growing limp in Fenris’ arms even as he continued to smile until finally his eyes closed and he drifted into deep sleep.

Despite the urge to take care of himself, Fenris cuddled up with his husband and eventually fell asleep, staying in place until he felt a pressing need against his thigh. He tried to ignore the ache but soon had moved to his back so he could take care of himself before the other elf woke up. 

Zevran was sleeping deeply, still sprawled upon his side; as far as Fenris was aware, the Antivan hadn’t moved at all the whole night, sleeping like the dead. It was only as Fenris finally came into his own hands messily that Zevran finally stirred, rolling to his back as he opened his eyes drowsily.

The other elf noticed his husband was awake and gave him a sheepish grin as he looked at the mess in his hands. “Hey.”

Zevran’s gaze went from Fenris’ face down to the mess in his hands. Slowly, a little clumsily, he shifted over onto his side, towards Fenris, then reached out a hand to trail it through the sticky mess. Then, lifting his gaze to Fenris’ eyes, he stared at him as he brought his fingers to his lips and began to lick them slowly clean. He then slid two fingers into his mouth, pumping them in and out with lazy strokes as Fenris watched, the warrior’s eyes widening slightly as he watched Zevran fuck his own mouth with his own fingers before Zevran reached out to take more of Fenris’ spend, letting it coat his hand and fingers. 

Then, without breaking his gaze, he rolled to his back, before lifting his hand over his open mouth and letting the thick sticky fluid slowly drip onto his waiting tongue. He arched his back, letting his eyes flutter shut as he gave a hedonistic moan and brought his lips up to his fingers before sinking back into the pillows, plunging his spend-covered fingers deep into his own mouth until Fenris was certain they must be brushing the Antivan’s throat.

Then Zevran began plunging his fingers in and out of his mouth, making the most arousing moans and groans around his fingers. Fenris found his breath coming faster, his own arousal growing until finally with a long, low moan, Zevran let his fingers trail from his mouth before drawing them down his throat until they rested upon his chest.

“Leto....” he sighed.

The other elf whimpered as he reached down to stroke himself again, uncaring how sticky he was. He was turned on and ready to fuck Zevran into the mattress again, or let him watch as he got off again. Either way, he was painfully hard after watching Zev tease him. 

Zevran turned his head to watch, then after a moment he turned back towards Fenris. He slapped the warrior’s hands away from his cock and then, before Fenris could stop him, he lowered his mouth to Fenris’ groin and began to swallow down his cock. As Fenris watched, wide-eyed, he shifted slightly as Fenris felt the head of his cock brush the back of the slender blond elf’s throat; and then he felt himself sliding into Zevran’s throat as the Antivan took him in right down to the root, his mouth stretched wide open by Fenris’ sizeable girth.

When Zevran swallowed around his cock and he felt the ripple of pressure against his flesh, Fenris nearly came right there and then; as it was, he couldn’t stop an involuntary thrust up into Zevran’s throat. The Antivan choked briefly and pulled himself up, his golden gaze lifting to Fenris’ face, his own face dripping with Fenris’ spend; and then he lowered himself again, swallowing Fenris down once more, breathing hard through his nose.

The Tevinter elf gasped and tried to keep from shoving Zevran’s head down far as he could. Instead he arced his back and whined his husband’s name while smacking the bed and pulling at his hair. He was hitting that super sensitive point but it felt too good to have the blond’s mouth on him, sucking hard like he liked. 

Zevran shifted his weight to one arm, reaching out blindly for Fenris’ hand with the other; as Fenris, confused, took it Zevran guided Fenris’ hand back to his own pale gold hair then patted Fenris’ hand. The warrior felt Zevran press lightly on the back of his hand as the Antivan’s head lowered over his cock again, and Fenris realised Zevran was giving him permission.

“Thank you.” Fenris said before getting a handful of the other elf’s hair and thrusting up. He was moaning Zevran’s name low and steady with each thrust, his own eyes closing as he felt how close he was. “Need.. more…” he begged. 

Zevran tried to go faster, working Fenris’ flesh as much as he could with his tongue, with his mouth filled so much by the other elf’s cock. He swallowed him down then swallowed again as he slide a hand to cup Fenris’ balls, squeezing and massaging them before sliding his hand farther back to gently slide a slender finger slowly into Fenris’ entrance.

“Yes, yes… please…” Fenris almost sobbed before spreading a little more for Zevran to take him over the edge. “Wish...wish you could fuck me.” he moaned desperate to come again. 

Zevran sank two fingers into Fenris, twisted them and then drew then back just _so_ to graze Fenris’ sweet spot - and that was all he needed to come with a shout, his fingers snarling tight in Zevran’s hair as he came, deep into the other elf’s throat.

Zevran choked, struggling briefly against Fenris’ hand as it kept his head pinned hard against the warrior’s sticky groin before Fenris let him up as Zevran worked to swallow so he could breathe. As Fenris gazed at him, panting hard and wide-eyed, Zevran lifted his head, also panting hard. Ropes of Fenris’ spend hung from his lips and dripped from his face. The Antivan managed to give him an exhausted grin before collapsing back onto the bed.

Fenris rolled over and kissed Zevran, tasting himself as he kissed the other elf until they needed air. He fell back, panting and trembling. He muttered “Morning love,” as he felt Zevran taking his hand and mumbling a half-vocalised reply. Zevran’s hand was shaking slightly, and after a moment he released Fenris’ hand.

As Fenris glanced over towards him, he saw that Zevran’s eyes were closed. His hair was plastered to the sticky mess across his face in places, the pale gold darkened by Fenris’ spend as it slowly dried. Zevran’s chest still heaved as he gasped quietly for breath.

“Are you ok?” he asked, worried for the way the blond seemed to be struggling for breath. Zevran attempted to answer, then coughed before rolling his head to one side; he spat, then coughed again. Threads of sticky white still dripped from his lips. He lifted a hand weakly and made a “wait” gesture with his hand before rolling onto his side and spitting again to clear his mouth and throat.

“I will be,” he gasped. He lay there, Fenris’ fluids dripping from his skin and pooling slightly beneath him on the bedsheet.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I got carried away. Let me clean you up and get us you food and potions love, I’m sorry.” Fenris said before slipping out of bed to the attached privy. As he was fetching a bowl of water (and once again blessing Dagna and the craftspeople of the Inquisition for the gift of dwarven plumbing), he heard a knock at the door and Anders’ voice.

“Fenris? Can you open up? I’ve brought breakfast for you both, love.”

“Um, just a moment I’m still indecent if any of the kids are there.” Fenris said before hastily trying to wipe Zevran off before opening the door with a sheet held around his waist.

“It’s alright, it’s just me - Wynne’s not up ye-” Anders broke off as he walked in then came to a halt as his eyes took in the state of Zevran. The hasty swipe of the wet flannel over Zevran’s face had done very little to improve his appearance save, perhaps, to have diluted some of the fluids. He lay sprawled upon his side in a pool of cooling spend, his hair trailing in it and across his face, plastered in places still to the fluids, a rope of Fenris’ spend still stretching from his slack lips.

“What in the Void have you done.” Anders’ voice was quiet and flat. He shoved the tray into Fenris’ hand and pushed past him to walk to the side of the bed and stare down at the unconscious Antivan. He was silent for several minutes until, uncomfortable, Fenris began to stammer an explanation. Anders’ too-calm voice cut through his attempt and silenced him.

“I told you to be careful. I told you to be gentle.”

“But -” began Fenris, “you said a blowjob would -”

Anders rounded on him and gestured at the unconscious elf still sprawled inelegantly in the bed. “ _DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A LITTLE LIGHT FUCKING FELLATIO TO YOU, FENRIS??_ ” he bellowed, furious.

That made the elf shrink back against the door, his ears drooping and nearly dropping the tray. “I’m …” was all he got out before there was a pounding on the door and Vic’s voice coming through.

“Anders, Maker damn it you scared me out of a dead sleep. What is wrong with you?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with me?” exclaimed Anders incredulously. “What’s wrong with _me??_ Our dear Mythal-blessed husband just fucking tried to drown Zevran with his cock, is what’s wrong!”

“Alright, I can see that but you actually scared me out of a sound sleep and probably anyone else who was still in bed.” Vic took the tray from Fenris and tried to get him to put on clothes. “At least let him get dressed before you murder him.” 

Ignoring him, Anders climbed onto the bed and gently rolled Zevran over onto his back and out of the pool of sticky, slowly-drying fluid. “Zevran? Zevran, can you hear me? ...Maker’s balls, he’s completely out of it,” he swore. “Vic, love, I’m going to need your help. You too, Fenris. This whole bed needs to be changed and Zevran needs to be washed.” He glanced back at them both, his anger draining away as swiftly as it had exploded to be replaced with concern for their unconscious husband.

There was the sound of hurrying footsteps and then Hal appeared in the doorway, still trying to tug on a shirt; his grey pants were only half-laced and he was barefoot, his hair still dishevelled from sleep. “What’s going on?” he asked breathlessly. “I heard shouting - is Zevran alright?”

“Apparently not, would you close the door and lock it please Hal?” Vic said before setting the tray aside and going over to pick Zevran up, mindful of his leg. 

The Antivan was a dead weight in his arms, limp and unresponsive as Anders set to work cleaning him up, washing his face and hair gently whilst Fenris shamefacedly stripped and changed the bed with Hal’s assistance. Eventually Zevran was laid to sleep in a clean bed, his blond hair damp but no longer sticky. Anders sat on the bed, his hands hovering over the splinted leg as he cast healing magic to carefully feel for any further signs of damage to the break.

“Fenris, there’s a lot of inflammation in Zevran’s leg and elsewhere in his body and -” Anders broke off with a frown, then turned his head to stare at him with a weary look. “Oh for - so, this, this morning wasn’t the only thing you two got up to in here? Is that why you didn’t want me to come in last night - you couldn’t wait?”

“What? What did he do?” asked Hal.

“What _didn’t_ he do, more like,” Anders shook his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes with a faintly pained expression. “Fenris, did it not occur to you that vigorous sex was the last thing Zevran should be doing so soon after re-breaking his leg?”

The elven warrior had hunched down and was staring at the floor, face warm as he heard the recrimination in his husband’s voice. He figured that saying that Zevran had begged him after he insisted on hearing that from the elf wouldn’t help.

Anders sighed, his expression still faintly pained. “I’ll sleep here with Zevran tonight. I’ll be better able to monitor his pain that way anyway, and help him to sleep without needing a potion.” He glanced down at Zevran. “Poppy juice can be so unpredictable, and I guess maybe there was a little too much for him to fall asleep so quickly afterwards.”

“Alright, can I go now please?” Fenris asked quietly, ashamed and a bit scared after Anders had lost his temper.

Anders lifted his head. “Hmm? What?” He blinked as he noticed how Fenris didn’t seem quite able to meet his eye. “Fenris? Are you alright?” His gaze was filled with concern.

“No, I need to go, please Anders, I just want to go outside for a while.” Fenris said as he fiddled with the strings of his tunic. 

Anders’ expression turned to one of dismay as he rose to his feet. “It’s... it’s me, isn’t it?” he said faintly. “You - you - it’s because I shouted, isn’t it?” His eyes widened. “Maker. You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you, I just want some air is all. It's a small room and there’s a lot of us in here, I just really, really want to be outside is all, and I’m going to go right now.” Fenris said before heading to the door.

Anders glanced around the room, at Invictus, Hal and then back at Fenris before he suddenly found himself acutely aware of how small and close the room seemed, with the big Ferelden-style wooden four-poster bed, the heavy thick drapes over the window, the way Invictus and Hal seemed to be standing almost uncomfortably close; and he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed again, looking a little stunned and, truth be told, a little sick.

“Ok that’s it, we’re going out and Anders can stay in here with the windows open and making sure Zevran is ok and eats something. Out, both of you.” Invictus shooed Hal out and nudged Fenris the rest of the way out of the door, annoyed when he shot upstairs and went to their room rather than staying with them. 

Hal glanced back at the door to Zevran’s room as he allowed Invictus to steer him out with a hand pressed against the small of his back. “Is Anders going to be alright?” he asked quietly.

“Now that we’re not all crowding him, yes I think so. Come on, I could use some breakfast now that we’re all up. Will you wake the kids if they aren’t up yet?” Vic asked as he turned off for the kitchen. Hal nodded, and headed up the stairs to go check on the kids.

Ellowynne was already sitting at the kitchen table as Invictus came in. She looked up at him and smiled sweetly.

“Hello Uncle Vic,” she said. 

Upstairs, Hal knocked on first Pin’s door, then that of Callus. “Pin, Callus, time to get up,” he called. “Invictus is starting breakfast.”

There was a groan from behind Pin’s door, then it opened and she stuck her head out. “I was already awake - Dumat, what was all that shouting about from downstairs? As if it wasn’t bad enough being woken up by Father and Zevran last night. If they’re going to do that every night, I’m sticking a bloody silence charm on their door before bed tonight. There are some things a girl just doesn’t want to hear, and that includes her stepfather screaming because her father is busy fucking him into the mattress!”

“Pin!” exclaimed Hal.

“Oops,” she grinned. “Gotta get dressed. ‘Scuse me!” She darted back inside her room.

Shaking his head, Hal knocked on Callus’ door. “Come on, Callus, no lazing a-bed or you can explain to your father why you’re late for breakfast.”

“Go away, papa and Zevran kept me up, and that was before Anders screamed bloody murder. I’ll make my own food later.” Callus rolled over and tried to ignore the rather insistent knocking at his door. “Hal...leave me alone.” 

“Callus, please?” pleaded Hal. “Come on. Invictus’ cooking isn’t that bad! It’s better than your father’s, at least?”

The youth groaned but finally relented, hastily washing up and opening the door as his sister did the same. He gave her a grin before heading down, ignoring the way Hal was trying to get Fenris to open the door. 

Hal sighed and leaned on the door. “Fenris... please. You can’t hide in there all morning, surely?” he said, deliberately making his voice sound small and wistful.

“Yes I can, go away Hal.” Fenris said before getting back under the covers and pulling a pillow over his head. 

Hal blinked, feeling his heart sink. “I was... was hoping we could perhaps take a walk after breakfast,” he tried again, still in that same wistful little voice.

“I am not showing my face ever again, I’m not hungry and I just want to be alone for a while Hal.” Fenris replied. 

Hal stared at the door nonplused. After a moment of silence, he finally managed a very quiet, small, “oh.” He stared at the floor, and then slowly straightened and walked slowly down the hall to the next door.

He knocked, then carefully opened the door to peer around. He smiled as he spotted Ellowynne curled up in bed, still fast asleep. “Come on, sleepyhead,” he teased as he let himself into her room and reached to wake her.

***

Invictus had given everyone a plate and settled in for his meal before wondering where Fenris and Hal were. Anders was still taking care of Zevran but everyone else was accounted for. Once he was done, he made a tray to take for Fenris. Hoping the elf was done sulking. 

“After I get our brooding love to have some breakfast, I’m going to town, who wants to come with me?” Vic asked.

“Uncle Vic, can I take the tray up to Uncle Fenris?” Wynne asked with a hopeful smile.

“Thanks Imp, but your uncle is in a bit of a mood this morning and I don’t think he wants to upset you. Maybe we can take him lunch if he’s still hiding in his room ok?” 

She frowned, looking disappointed. “OK Uncle Vic,” she sighed. “May I be excused? I’ve finished my breakfast.”

“Sure Imp unless you want to come to town with me? We haven’t had a bit of adventure in a while.” Vic said with a smile for the girl. 

“If she doesn’t want to go, maybe we can go tomorrow? Today’s my day to work with Hal down in the orchard,” Callus said with a glance upstairs, where he’d heard a noise but didn’t say anything in case he was mishearing things. 

“Oh - we should both go with Uncle Vic, Imp!” exclaimed Pin. “I have a letter I want to send to Marian, and I promised to send her some ribbons from the market - you can help me pick them!”

Wynne hesitated, looking back towards the stairs before she gave Pin a bright smile. “Sure!”

“I’ll walk up with you Invictus, maybe see if I can get papa to stop being so grumpy with everyone. I need to talk to him anyway about something,” Callus said before leading Vic to the stairs.

Pin and Wynne were animatedly chatting about ribbons and dresses as Callus headed up the stairs, Invictus a few paces behind. The doors to Hal’s room and those of Pin and Callus himself were still slightly ajar, but Ellowynne’s door was closed, as was the door of the room shared by Invictus and his husbands. Callus had been inside very rarely. He stepped aside and gestured politely to Invictus as he leaned on the closed door of Ellowynne’s room.

As he watched Invictus knock on the door, Callus leaned his head against the wooden door and then blinked. Ellowynne was downstairs. Yet he was certain he could hear breathing coming from her room.

He gently turned the handle and glanced in, surprised to see Hal sprawled out. He pulled the door shut and tried to think on what to do. If he said anything whatever had knocked him out could be in there. Callus took a chance and opened the door again and saw the impossible, Wynne, sound asleep in bed even though she was also downstairs. He drew the door closed quickly and stepped next door to his father’s room.

Fenris was sitting up in bed, grumpy but at least talking to Invictus. “I told you. I am not sulking. I felt it best to absent myself to the room rather than risk Anders becoming any more agitated. We very nearly lost him again, and I will not be the cause of his heart finally giving up, Vic. I am unhappy enough that he had cause to shout at me; I would not chance him becoming more upset. He should be kept as calm as possible.” 

“Papa, papa-Vic, we have a problem and you cannot yell. Not a word, just listen to me.” Callus said as he stared at them. 

Fenris stared at his son, then frowned as he reached for his sword and stood. “I am not going to like this, am I?” he said softly. 

“No papa, neither of you are but I don’t want to upset Anders.” Callus explained what he’d seen in Ellowynne’s room, and the fact that the little girl was also sitting at the kitchen table. He finished and waited for them to do or say something.

“You left your sister with ...something that may or may not be human Callus?” Fenris said softly before he slipped from bed and went for his clothes. He paused after pulling on a shirt, as he recalled Zevran being afraid of her. “Either she’s possessed or there’s a demon pretending to be her and has been for a while. Whichever it is, the news will kill Anders. Zevran was terrified of her last night.” 

“Hold on, hold on… what?” Invictus asked just as softly. 

“Master Zevran was afraid of her?” asked Callus. “But... Wynne is always near him, she sits with him when he’s sleeping in the parlour and....” his voice trailed off and his face darkened. “Papa... whatever this thing may be... it has harmed Hal. I don’t know how. But it has - and now Pin may be in danger. Father... please protect my sister.” He turned to Invictus. “Enchanter Hawke... we have to save Hal, and the real Wynne if that is not an illusion in her bed.”

“Stop calling me Enchanter Hawke. We need to figure out which one is the right one and how to not arouse its suspicion if the fake is in the kitchen. Also someone needs to put Anders to sleep so he misses all of this. He will die if he has a hint something is wrong with her.” Vic pinched the bridge of his nose and started to pace. “You stay here, I’m going to tell them I need something for Fenris then we can go. I don’t want to alert it or her to the fact we know. Maker dammit!” 

“I can knock Master Anders out with a drug - a blowdart would work - but it’s risky,” said Callus slowly. “You could get close to him and put him to sleep with a spell with far less risk, Ench- Invictus.”

“Alright, let me think. You stay with your father, I’ll get some potions and give the pretense I am getting them for Zevran and I’ll knock Anders out. Then I’ll get her in my arms and call for you both. Whatever knocked out Hal is probably still in her room.” Vic said as he headed for the door. 

“One last thing, argue so it seems like I need to calm you both down before we go.” Invictus said as he shut the door and went back to the kitchen. 

Callus turned to Fenris and abruptly screamed in seeming rage, “It’s always what _you_ want! It’s my fucking life - not yours!” Even as the words left his mouth, he gave his father an apologetic look with his eyes. His hands snapped up and rapidly began signing to his father in the old unspoken language of the slaves: _I am sorry. Forgive me. I do not mean this._ He desperately prayed his father would remember.

Fenris signed back at him even as he gave as good as he got. “Yes, because I’m your damned father Callus, you forget that when you are full of yourself just like now! What do you want from me?” he snarled even as he signed, slowly to his son. _It’s ok, remember little_

“You fucking damned hypocrite - where were you when we were sold to that bastard? When he was fucking your daughter? Where were you when he killed everyone I dared love?” _Papa. I love you. I don’t blame you. This is not your fault._

“Probably getting beaten and passed around like a two copper whore by my Master, what do you think Callus?!” Fenris screamed in return, even as he fumbled out an apology.

They heard the pounding of feet up the stairs and then Pin burst into the room, screaming, “Callus, _NOOOOO!!_ ”

Callus turned to her, his face wet with tears even as his hands flew faster than Fenris could follow. A moment later her face drained of colour and she put her hand over her mouth before she dropped to her knees, sobbing.

There was a hoarse yell from Invictus, and then he was yelling for Fenris and Callus.

“Father, go to him - I’ll stay with Pin!” said Callus desperately.

The warrior ran downstairs to find chaos, like the Void had opened up in the time it took him to run down the stairs.

Invictus was standing in the downstairs hallway, Anders collapsed against him and unconscious, and through the doorway leading into the kitchen Fenris could see a large hole blasted in the back wall of the house.

“She’s escaped!” exclaimed Invictus. “The moment you and Callus started shouting, Anders burst out of Zevran’s room and Pin fled upstairs screaming. I could grab the Imp, or Anders, and I grabbed Anders and put him out - but that means the Imp escaped and....”

He turned and stared at the hole. “....and.... I guess Callus was right. That... wasn’t our Imp.” 

“Ok, so what about Hal and Wynne? Is that her in her bedroom? Can we go in there?” Fenris asked as he stared at what was left of their kitchen wall. 

“I… don’t know. I’m guessing it laid some kind of trap for anyone who might have thought to go in her room. I don’t know a lot about traps though and Zevran...is he awake?” Vic said as he started to rise with Anders in his arms. 

“He is now,” called a voice in a very heavy Antivan accent, a moment before Zevran dragged himself into view, one hand pressed against the wall as he dragged his splinted leg. He stared at them both, his expression grim.

“So. our little demon friend, you have discovered her, no?” he said as he glanced to Invictus. “What mischief has she wrought?”

“I don’t even know Zevran. I feel like I woke up in the lowest level of the Void right now.” he laid Anders down on the couch and looked to both elves. “Wynne’s room, Hal is laid out and there’s a trap of some kind. Callus saw both of them in there. Please...check, and Maker help us all if she’s not alright because it will kill Anders,” Invictus said as he reinforced his sleep spell and looked to them. 

“I’ll carry you upstairs.” Fenris said as he scooped Zevran up, careful of his leg. “We’re moving, away so far away.” 

Zevran gave a small grunt of pain as Fenris lifted him, but otherwise was silent until they reached the hall outside Ellowyne’s room. Callus and Pin were waiting there, and one of them had thrown the door open.

Hal was sprawled upon his side, unconscious, his face turned away from them and his hair tumbled around his head in a dishevelled mess. He had not managed to lace closed his shirt before leaving Zevran’s room earlier and it gaped open to his waist, baring his olive skin and slender torso as he lay there, twisted like a discarded rag doll. His chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly as he breathed softly.

Beyond him, they could see Ellowynne’s fair hair as it lay scattered over her pillow, the half-elven child deeply asleep much as Hal appeared to be.

“Please tell me you can figure this out so we aren’t all laid out like them.” Fenris said as he let Zevran put weight on his good leg and he held him up since they’d left crutches downstairs. 

Zevran frowned as he stared at the two sleepers. “Fenris, I think you are the most resistant to magic of us all, thanks to Mythal’s gifts,” he said. “If I set foot in there I will be no better than Hal I think, and Callus would not get much farther. Invictus or Pin might get closer, but would likely succumb before they could get out again. But you may have a chance.” He closed his eyes as he thought, then slowly nodded. “I have it. Fenris, grab Hal and throw him back through the door, then go grab the Imp. You will not have time to retreat with Hal in your arms, much less with the Imp - but if you throw him and then teleport with her, then we shall be able to retrieve all three of you safely.”

He glanced to Invictus. “And if I am wrong... then we will have no recourse but to wake Anders, for I have no other ideas.”

“Very well, but if this goes wrong, do not come in here.” Fenris turned Zevran over to his son before staring into the room and readying himself. “Just like when that damn mirror was bleeding in the parlor, I can do this.” he said to himself before letting his brands light and instead of tossing Hal back he did a Fade Step to gather Hal and drop him in the hallway before doing the same to Ellowynne and slamming the door shut with her in his arms. 

“Parlor, now. Pin lock that door and join us.” Fenris sounded shaky as he brushed the girl’s hair from her face, relieved to see that she seemed to be fine other than asleep.

Zevran was staring at Fenris with an odd look in his eye, but he turned to Invictus. “My love, would you open a portal? I don’t think my leg will withstand further strain,” he asked. 

Pin had crouched on the floor to check Hal over, but at her father’s words she rose and nodded. Hal was still unconscious, his chest slowly rising and falling with each deep breath. Fenris hoped he’d taken no harm when he’d dropped him hastily in the hallway.

Invictus opened a portal and let everyone go through, until Fenris returned to take Hal with him, so he could close it and hurry downstairs. The elf laid Hal out gently before setting Zevran in his usual napping spot. He was terrified for what would happen when Ellowynne woke up and told her father the truth, or he hoped she didn't’ remember anything.

“Why doesn’t he wake up?” frowned Callus as he stared at Hal. “He’s out of that room now! Shouldn’t he be waking up?” Pin shot him a sharp look before turning to check Ellowynne over carefully.

Zevran had closed his eyes once resting in his chair; his face looked drawn and grey with pain. At Callus’ words he opened his eyes and turned his golden glance on the elven youth.

“Peace, Callus,” he said tiredly. “Give him time; doubtless he will awaken soon - and if not, I am sure that my love can cast a Rejuvenate upon him to dispel the last effects.” He glanced to Invictus.

“I think we should revive Wynne first, who knows how long that thing had her trapped? It must have been keeping her well enough so it wouldn’t make us suspicious if she was always sick. Then if Hal doesn’t wake soon, I’ll get him up.” Invictus very gently pressed a finger to the girl’s forehead to awaken her. 

Nothing happened at first; and then the child’s eyes slowly drifted open. She blinked up at Invictus and frowned in confusion. “Uncle Vic?” she said drowsily. “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s asleep sweetheart, he had a very hard morning and is napping. Do you want me to wake him up?” Invictus asked her softly. 

“I want my Daddy,” she said sleepily.

“Ok little one, I’ll put you and your daddy to sleep in our room ok?” Vic said as he put her in his arms. “Fenris. Bring him up and then I’m going to ward every foot of our property and get stupidly drunk.” 

“Wait - aren’t you going to wake Hal?” demanded Callus, a sharp edge creeping into his voice. Pin looked up and gave him a thoughtful frown.

“Yes, soon as I get Wynne settled with Anders, please Callus I’m already on edge give me a few minutes.” Invictus said before heading up with the girl in his arms and Fenris following behind. He’d noticed Callus’ concern over Hal but didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

Fenris laid Anders out on their bed, and then Invictus laid Ellowynne next to him; the young girl curled up against her father then glanced up at him curiously.

“Uncle Vic, why is Daddy asleep? Is he ill again?”

“Sort of Imp, he was healing Zevran and you know it wears him out. Stay with him ok? When he wakes up come and get me please.” Vic said softly to her. 

Fenris was leaning against the door watching them, his mind racing over how they had been fooled for so long. He waited until Invictus had given her a kiss on the forehead and they’d gone downstairs for Hal to be awakened. 

Hal was still fast asleep, laid out on the couch in the parlour. Callus was leaning over him, shaking him and urging the sleeping mage to wake up and open his eyes, even as Pin was tugging at his arm.

“Cal, stop, Invictus will wake him soon!” she protested.

“Hal, move back so I can wake him up and since you’re so concerned you can take him to his room and look after him while we search for our little friend that fooled all of us for so long” Vic said as he nudged Callus aside and put his hands on Hal’s chest to wake the young man.

As the magic surged through him, Hal’s eyes flew open and he tried to sit up as he drew in a breath with a gasp. “Trap, it’s a trap, it’s a -!” he exclaimed then clutched at Invictus’ hand which was still pressed against his chest. He gulped then fell back against the couch and blinked up at them all, startled.

“Welcome back, you’re ok and we figured out what was going on. The real Wynne is asleep upstairs.” Vic assured him before looking up to Callus. “Well, you were worried he was dead, you take him to his room.”

The young elf blushed and turned to Hal with a sheepish grin. “Papa-Vic is just giving me a hard time. Come on, I’ll get you settled ok?” Callus said with a dirty look for Invictus.

At the second papa-Vic, Fenris raised an eyebrow at his son. “It’s papa-Vic now is it?” 

“Father! Must you all pick on me after what we’ve been through?” Callus said even as his ears dropped a bit and he blushed. 

“You were worried for me?” asked Hal quietly as he stared up at Callus. The golden eye regarded him with gentle warmth; the ice-blue eye seemed to stare through the elven youth unnervingly however, as though it could see past Callus’ blush to the thoughts beneath.

“Yes, I was. Come on, papa and Invictus have work to do now that the demon is gone.” Callus helped Hal to his feet and started to steer him towards the stairs. 

Hal stumbled slightly and leaned in against Callus as they walked. “Sorry... a little dizzy,” he murmured as he put his hand to his forehead. “I think I got up too fast. How long was I out for? All I remember is entering Wynne’s room to wake her and then felt the touch of magic and a sensation of falling. Then nothing until Invictus woke me and found you all staring down at me.”

“A little while, come on I’ve got you.” Callus said as he slipped an arm around the human mage. He refused to turn around and see the look on anyone’s face as he helped him up the stairs. 

Fenris turned to stare at the wall and sighed. “I think we have enough spare bricks from rebuilding the fence for me to fix it, but it won’t be finished tonight. Tomorrow, I get Callus to help and we fix that, then I’m going to get so drunk I’ll sleep for a week.” 

“Love is that a good idea?” Vic asked as he came up behind the elf and hugged him. 

“Probably not but it needs to be fixed and I have a feeling Hal and Callus will be occupied later if the way my son was looking at him is any indication of things.” He leaned back and kiss Vic on the cheek before freeing himself. 

“Before anything happens, I think I need something to eat.” Fenris picked his way through the rubble and to the cold box, intent on finding something and ignoring the way his daughter was looking at him. 

“Father... I thought... you and Hal...?” Pin glanced to Invictus, confused. “Invictus, that whole mess with Arden was because you all had sex with Hal - all except Master Anders. What interest would Hal have with my brother if he is involved with you and my father?” 

The older elf muttered under his breath as he turned to his daughter. “Pin...can we not talk about this right now?”

Invictus looked at Pin then at his husband before going to the parlor and beckoning her to follow. When they were alone, he tried to explain things but fell quiet, unsure if he was even explaining it well for himself.

Pin paced slowly. “I don’t get it. Just how old is Hal? I thought at first he wasn’t much older than Cal and I but... sometimes, it’s like there’s an older soul looking out through his eyes. That blue eye. But in some ways he feels... younger. I can’t explain it. It’s like two people in one body, he-” Her eyes widened and she turned to Invictus. “Is he possessed? Is that what’s going on?”

“He’s not possessed, well not anymore. It's a really complicated thing Pin but know he’s fine and I’m guessing something happened with your brother and now he’s interested. I have no idea what to make of it, but Hal isn’t bound to us like we are to each other. I’m guessing if anything happens, we’ll talk this time. Now go on and take care of your dad, he needs a hug or a drink or both I think.” Vic said tiredly.

Pin stared at Invictus uncertainly and then glanced away for a moment as though wrestling internally with something. Finally she looked back at Invictus.

“Our master back in Tevinter... he favoured boys over women. He would purchase body slaves - young men, a few years older than Callus and I. When he tired of them, he would use their blood for his rituals. They... died painfully. It was Callus’ duty - well, one of them - to take out their bodies afterwards and burn them. He... didn’t get attached; he knew they would all die.” She watched as Invictus slowly nodded and gestured to continue.

“There was one such slave... different from the rest. Callisthenes. He was kind to my brother - shared his food with him, that kind of thing. Callus... grew attached to him. Maybe our master grew tired of him or maybe he saw how Callus felt about him, but - one day Callus was called to remove another body from the ritual chamber and... it was him. Callisthenes. He’d been... flayed alive.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. “He... had long red hair. He looked... he looked like Hal.”

“Well shit, that could get bad pretty quickly. But it seems like your father noticed whatever is going on and is ok with it? If things go badly, I’ll talk to Hal and Callus ok?” Vic tried to reassure her before opening his arms for a hug if she wanted it. 

She stared at him for a moment, then leaned into his embrace. “You’re not my Papa, but... ‘Uncle’ doesn’t feel right,” she said quietly. “Are you my... Papa Vic?”

“I...guess if you’re ok with that? You can just call me by my name too if you like. Sorry it's been so wild around here Pin.” Vic squeezed her a bit before letting go and looking to the kitchen. “Maker it's going to be a mess until we get that wall fixed and your father to open up.”

Pin nodded as she straightened. She looked down, tugging her tunic straight, before she looked up shyly at Invictus. “I’m... glad we talked... Vic,” she smiled hesitantly.

“Me too, I’m glad you thawed towards all of us. I know it has helped your papa, come on I’m hungry and tired Pin.” Vic let her go ahead, hoping the rest of their day was less exciting.

***

Hal followed Callus to his bedroom, then slowly turned back towards the young elf. He gave him a tired smile.

“I’m sorry - this has all been so confusing and... and horrible, and I’m... not really handling it well.” he admitted as Callus walked closer. He held still, as Callus leaned in, staring intently at his face. His eyes widened, as Callus reached out and slowly drew a finger along the long scar that almost bisected his face, then brushed the remains of the Tranquil brand.

“I’m... curious,” admitted Callus. “How did you get these scars?”

Hal reached a hand up to touch the long scar. “That one’s an axe wound from... from a Tal Vashoth mercenary,” he said slowly, then touched the brand. “I... was made Tranquil a week after I was Harrowed at fifteen. It was... cured when I was nineteen.”

“Harrowed? I think I’ve overheard magisters talking about that. They force you to face a demon right?” Cal said quietly before brushing his fingers over the faded brand. “Cured? How, I thought Tranquility was permanent?”

Hal smiled and shrugged. “So the Chantry would have everyone believe, but it’s not true,” he replied. “Tranquility can be reversed if the severed mage is touched by a spirit. Which was what happened to me.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “It feels... overwhelming. A flood of emotions, when you’ve been denied so long. Even now, I feel overwhelmed; sometimes it feels like I cry at the least little thing.” He looked up and his expression was bleak. “I guess... right now I have plenty of reasons to weep.” He wrapped his arms around his torso and glanced away.

Callus couldn’t help but notice Hal’s scarred eyelids and lips as the mage gazed away. “It has been a rough month around here huh?” he asked before turning the mage towards him. “You’re not much older than me, but life seems to have been so cruel to you.” The young elf glanced at the scars and reached out to touch before catching himself. 

“I’m twenty-five,” said Hal before glancing back. He froze as he felt Callus’ fingers brush the scars on his lips. “Qunari,” he whispered. “They... sew shut the eyes and lips of Saarebas. I... spent several months, blinded. Sometimes... sometimes I wake up in a dark room and I feel like I’m back there.”

“How though, if you were part of the Inquisition? I thought ...I’m sorry, I’m prying when you’re already upset; forgive me Hal,” Callus said as he let his fingers stay a bit too long over the scars before dropping his hand. 

“You... you can touch them,” whispered Hal as he gazed into Callus’ eyes. “No-one else has ever asked.” He closed his eyes as Callus lifted his hand to touch his eyelids. “The... Tal Vashoth I mentioned. He... he and I....” He swallowed, and Callus felt tears drip from beneath the closed and scarred eyelids. “Bull. I loved him. He came through the Eluvian as I slept. He... he overpowered me when I woke. Took me through the Eluvian. And... held me as they stitched my eyes and lips closed. Took me away. He...” Hal shuddered, his eyes still closed as he was overwhelmed with memories. “I feel him still. Blind. His hands on me, his.... He took me, and I couldn’t even scream. Over and over and -” His eyes flew open, shocked. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You don’t want to hear this.” He lowered his head and shivered.

“No, its alright. I feel like you barely get a say in anything lately and I know how that feels. Come on, let’s sit and you can tell me whatever you like.” Callus guided him to the bed and slipped an arm around the redhead. “It’s ok, I’ll listen.”

Hal hesitated, then leaned in against Callus. “I’m sorry, I... So much and... and... oh Maker. Arden. He understood and - and I miss him so much, I....” He turned and clung to Callus as tears began to run down his cheeks.

“Stop apologizing, its ok Hal. This month has really done a number on all of us. I’m sorry for all you have suffered, you can let go with me ok?” Callus offered as he reached up to rub Hal’s scalp and try to soothe him. 

Hal lifted his head and found Callus’ face so close he could feel his breath. His lips parted, and a faint whimper escaped his lips. “Hold me,” he whispered.

“Of course Callist---, I mean Hal. Sorry.” Callus said. He found himself staring at Hal’s scarred lips again; he watched and held his breath as Hal unconsciously ran his tongue briefly across his lower lip. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed the redhead. Hal’s eyes widened, then slowly slid closed as he faintly moaned, his lips parting willingly as Callus’ tongue delved into his mouth, surrendering utterly as he tilted his head.

The elven teen leaned into the kiss, even pressing them both down to the bed. He stopped to catch his breath before smiling at Hal and leaning in again to kiss the young man. “If this isn’t ok, please say so before I try and kiss you more.” he breathed.

Hal was staring up at Callus, his mismatched eyes slightly glazed. The golden eye had darkened to a honeyed amber, and the glacial blue eye seemed less alien as Hal gazed up into Callus’ eyes. His lips parted and he gave a soft moan.

“Is that a yes, then?” breathed Callus as he lowered himself over Hal and bent to claim Hal’s lips once more. He swept his tongue across the scarred lips and Hal let him in with another faintly-breathed moan into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut again as he let Callus claim his mouth.

The scars, the eyes were wrong for Callisthenes, Callus tried to tell himself. But the dark, blood-red hair he fisted was so familiar, as were the panted moans as he pressed himself to the lithe body beneath him and ground his hips against him even as Hal unthinkingly parted his legs. Callus pushed his leg between Hal’s thighs up against his groin and felt a stirring of Hal’s cock inside his pants; and Hal’s low, encouraging groan was so much like Callisthenes. Callus was losing himself between memories of a years-dead body slave and growing desire for the man beneath him.

He lifted a hand to the collar of Hal’s shirt; it was still unlaced and open, baring Hal’s tawny skin. Hal lifted his hands to pull the shirt further open and Callus was able to dip his head down and place light kisses, licks and bites slowly down Hal’s throat and torso, gradually working his way down his body as Hal reached down to hastily unlace his pants. Without stopping, Callus slid Hal’s pants down over his hips and to his thighs then sank his teeth slowly into the tawny skin of Hal’s hip. He was rewarded by a gasped moan of his name and felt Hal shudder beneath him. He lifted himself up to glance at the young mage’s face and was rewarded with the sight of him flushed and wanton, hair scattered across the bed, lips reddened from Callus’ kisses. He snaked his hand down to curl around Hal’s stiffening cock, and Hal arched up into his grip with a low stuttering cry.

Dumat, but Callus wanted him so badly. This was nothing like the quick, furtive tumbles he’d had with barmaids, soldiers, farmer’s daughters; there was somehow both a maturity about Hal and yet also a youthfulness about the mage that Callus found more and more alluring the more he’d come to know Hal. He’d found most youths his age to be too childish and hard to relate to after the brutal upbringing of a Tevinter slave - but something in Hal felt strangely right. He’d seen the whip scars down Hal’s back, the marks of manacles around the slender wrists, and it was clear that life had been every bit as brutal to the mage as it had been for Callus himself.

He was pumping slowly and steadily at Hal’s cock now as the redhead writhed beneath him and moaned his name; Callus leaned forwards and claimed his mouth again before dipping his head to kiss the slender throat then bite down lightly on Hal’s collarbone.

“C-Callus,” Hal managed to gasp.

Callus bent his head down until his lips were brushing Hal’s ear. “I want to fuck you,” he breathed. “I want to slide my cock into you and fuck you slowly, so slowly....”

Hal gasped, and lifted a hand to slide his long fingers into the dark hair at the nape of Callus’ neck. Unseen by the youth, his mismatched eyes gazed unseeingly at the ceiling. 

“You may do with me as you wish,” he breathed.

Callus didn’t question the perhaps curious form of Hal’s reply; he merely leaned over and kissed Hal thoroughly until both were breathless and panting. Then he was straightening and tugging Hal’s pants all the way off before struggling hastily out of his own pants. “Oil, we’ll need -”

He broke off as Hal rolled over onto his stomach then stretched a hand back; there was a whisper of magic, and his palm filled with a clear oily liquid.

“Useful,” remarked Callus, before coating his hand. Then with one hand on Hal’s hip, he pressed two fingers deep inside Hal and scissored them, stretching the tissues. He was hard, so hard, and he was eager to sheathe his cock in Hal’s flesh. He thrust a third finger in as Hal pressed back into his hand. He thrust his hand in and out for a while, pumping his fingers into Hal as the mage shivered beneath him and clutched at a pillow he’d drawn beneath his head.

Then Callus took more of the oily liquid and slicked his cock before he lined up the tip with Hal’s entrance.

He was panting, eager; he pushed himself all the way inside Hal in one stroke, and Hal cried out as he sank home. “Ssshhh, shhh, it’s OK, it’s going to be OK - going to make you feel so good,” promised Callus as he leaned forward over Hal, covering the mage with his body. His hips began to thrust, driving himself into Hal with urgency. “Fuck... Dumat, you feel so good,” he groaned. “So hot and tight.”

Hal was panting and writhing beneath him, small gasped cries escaping him with each thrust. 

“Get up on your hands and knees,” urged Callus as he continued to pump into Hal’s body; he tugged Hal’s hip with one hand as he straightened, pulling Hal up after him. “That’s it,” he panted. He picked up the pace as he reached around and started fisting Hal’s cock in time with his thrusts. Hal gasped and shuddered.

Callus had meant to take it slow and easy, but Hal’s body felt so good around his cock that he couldn’t help himself, and every time he gave an extra-hard thrust Hal made such beautiful noises, his voice cracking, and he found himself going faster, thrusting deeper just to hear Hal make that sound again and again. 

There was silence in the room save for the slapping of flesh on flesh and the soft pants and groans of both men, interspersed with soft keening cries from Hal.

“Gonna - gonna come,” panted Callus. “Want you to come too.” He pumped his hand faster as he shifted the angle at which he thrust into Hal until he felt Hal shudder and cry out louder.

“That’s it - come for me!” encouraged Callus as he started pounding into Hal as hard and fast as he could, hitting that spot again and again and again until Hal cried out and came messily all over Callus’ hand.

Callus let him collapse back onto the bed before lowering himself over Hal and chasing his own climax with renewed vigour. Hal shuddered and gasped, writhing beneath him as Callus pounded into him mercilessly until his rhythm stuttered and then he grunted loudly as he came inside Hal. His thrusts slowed, and then he pulled out before he reached over and rolled Hal over onto his back.

The mage was panting, eyes closed, face flushed and slick with sweat.

“Fuck, you’re such a hot mess,” grinned Callus. He leaned over Hal and pushed his hand, still covered in Hal’s own spend, against the mage’s lips. “Open up, I want to see you lick my hand clean,” he ordered.

Hal’s eyes opened as his lips parted; silently, he let Callus thrust his fingers into his mouth and he licked and sucked every trace of himself off the elf’s hand, running his pink tongue over the skin until it was wet but clean. Then Callus leaned forward to kiss him deeply again, fisting a handful of Hal’s hair with his other hair and groaning as he tasted Hal’s spend, before he pulled back.

He went to the washbasin to wash his hands and clean himself up, then brought the bowl over with a flannel. Hal rolled back over onto his stomach without a word so Callus could clean him up.

“Hal? Are you OK?” he asked quietly; Hal nodded. Callus dropped the flannel into the water and set the bowl aside then stretched out alongside Hal on the bed. “Hal?”

The mage turned his head to peer up at Callus with his golden eye.

“I... I really liked that. Was it OK for you too?” Callus asked.

Hal nodded slowly. Callus lifted a hand to gently stroke the dark red hair out of Hal’s eye.

“Can... can we do this again? Soon?”

Hal seemed to ponder it, then after a minute he nodded again.

“Are you OK?” Callus asked, concerned for Hal’s silence.

“Yeah....” Hal said softly. “Sorry, just... really tired now.”

“I wasn’t too rough or anything?” pressed Callus.

“No, I... I like it rough,” shrugged Hal. “It was... it was good.”

“So I can fuck you again?” repeated Callus. “You... you want that too?”

“Yes,” nodded Hal drowsily. “Yes, you can fuck me again, Callus.”

The golden eye closed, and Callus sat up then got up and reached for his pants. He quietly retreated from the room, closing the door behind him.

To find Fenris staring up at him from the foot of the stairs. “My office, now.” he said as he approached the boy.

Callus stared at him, feeling suddenly rather less confident than he had a few minutes ago. The warm comfortable afterglow of sex was rapidly vanishing as he turned and walked into his father’s office then stood there feeling nervous. 

“Papa?” he said.

Fenris shut the door and stared at his son, studying the youth for a moment. He had heard all of their...coupling and despite how he tried to brush it off, he was angry. Angry that Callus would use Hal and leave him, especially after seeing how destroyed he’d been after Arden’s death. He kept staring at the boy, unsure how to start. 

“Papa, is there... something wrong?” Callus tried again, his father’s continuing silence serving only to heighten his anxiety. He couldn’t escape a horrible feeling of guilt that was slowly creeping over him; Hal had been his father’s, first, and now he had the unpleasant feeling he’d trespassed badly. 

Even though Hal had welcomed his touch.

“You...Callus.” Fenris started but fell quiet, struggling to speak without exploding in anger. He started to pace like a caged animal, speaking in a low, hard voice. “You left him, you fucking...used him and left him. He’s going to wake up thinking you only wanted him for a quick fuck. He was weak Callus, he was weak and you used him.”

Callus stared at his father, his eyes widening in shock. “I...no, wait, I didn’t!” he protested. “I _asked_ him, he said yes! I didn’t use him, he - he _wanted_ it, said afterwards he’d liked it! I left him because he was tired, he wanted to sleep!”

Fenris laughed bitterly as he stopped to give Callus a dirty look. “He...he can’t help it! He’s been used, trained to never say no. And he fears being left alone.” He caught himself before he punched a wall and instead got in his son’s face. “You are going back to him, you are going to lie there, sleep or read until he wakes up. You will not use him and set him aside like a toy you’re tired of. If you hurt him, I will break you Callus Hawke, I swear to Mythal whatever you did to Arden will be nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you use him again. Now go.” 

Callus’ face went white, then red, and he abruptly pushed his father back. “No, you - you listen to me!” he growled. “What in the Void are you accusing me of? Are you saying I _raped_ him? Because I didn’t! I asked him if we could have sex and he said yes - he _fucking consented!_ There was no using going on!”

Fenris stared down at his son. “Is that what you think happened?” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Did he say yes?” He leaned closer. “Or did he tell you that you could do whatever you wished to him?”

Callus blinked. “That’s - he was consenting!” he protested. 

“What did he say exactly? Did he say yes, or did he say you can do what you liked? What you wanted?” Fenris mimicked Hal’s tone eerily well after hearing the younger man slip into when he wasn’t fully himself. “Well?” he asked, still quietly menacing. 

The colour drained from Callus’ face again. “He - he said....” His voice dropped. “He said I could do what I wished with him,” he confessed. he held up his hands as his father’s eyes flashed with anger. “But I asked him afterwards if he was OK, and he said he was! I was worried I’d been too rough but he said he _likes_ it rough, and that he’d like to do it again - why would he say that if he didn’t want it?”

“Because he’s been trained to Callus, kind of like us. He was all but a slave in name when in the Gallows, again when Bull helped him after Adamant fortress.” Fenris did slam his fist into the wall next to his son’s head, his eyes aglow as his markings lit. “Leave me, before I make a mistake I cannot fix. Go to him and you’d better be there when he wakes up.” he snarled.

Callus had flinched, face white as his father punched the wall. “He begged me to touch him,” he whispered. “We kissed. He wanted it - I swear it, Father. I would never do something to hurt him. I lo-” He broke off and swallowed hard, dropping his gaze. 

“Callus...leave, I am so close to beating the piss out of you and I swore never...I swore never to lay a hand on you or Pin. Leave….please,” Fenris said as tears fell. 

His eyes filled with fear, Callus backed away, his hand fumbling blindly with the door handle before he turned and wrenched it open, fleeing. He wasn’t sure which was the more terrifying - his father’s wrath... or his tears. He fled back to Hal’s room, where the mage still sprawled almost naked upon the bed save for his shirt. He stared at him, feeling guilty and ashamed as he stared at Hal’s sleeping form, then hastily grabbed a blanket and draped it over Hal before falling to his knees beside the bed to stare at Hal’s sleeping face.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered. 

**

Anders frowned as he sat up slowly. He didn’t remember going to bed; he certainly didn’t remember lying down for a nap. Yet he was stretched out on the bed, and there was someone curled up against him. He glanced down, and blinked as he realised it was Ellowynne, snuggled up and fast asleep.

Had he had another bad turn? He didn’t _feel_ like he had though, and there was no bitter tell-tale taste of digitalis in his mouth.

He got up slowly, leaving the girl to sleep, and made his way from the bedroom down the hall. He wasn’t sure what was going on; the house was far too quiet. 

As he passed the closed door of Fenris’ office, he heard a muffled sniff and halted. 

“Fenris?” He tapped on the door. “Fenris, are you -” He pushed open the door and then stared down at Fenris in surprise. The elf was sitting on the floor, clutching his hand and sobbing almost silently.

“Fenris! What’s happened? Are you alright?” He reached out for Fenris’ hand. “What did you do to your hand?”

“Lost my temper, I’ll be ok. Why are you out of bed?” Fenris said as he pulled his hand back and got up. He wiped his face slowly and gave his husband a smile. “Come on, you should be resting, not worrying about me.” the elf tried to get Anders to go back to their bedroom. 

“I don’t even know what I was doing in bed in the first place!” protested Anders as Fenris turned him around and started walking him firmly back towards the door. “I’m fine, I don’t need-”

He broke off as he spotted the hole in the plaster near the door and dug his heels in. “Sweet Andraste, what in the Void happened in here?” he exclaimed.

“Nothing I want to talk about. If you won’t go to bed, I am because today is a wash and I’m exhausted.” Fenris said as he gave up trying to push the other man back to their room.

“But I don’t even remember going to bed in the first place!” protested Anders, a note of alarm creeping into his voice. “I was looking after Zevran, and then I heard Pin yelling - and then the next thing I know I’m waking up in the bedroom with no idea how I got there. Fenris, what happened?” He pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart, and looked down, bewildered. “I don’t _feel_ like I had one of my turns... what’s going on?”

“Let someone else explain, I don’t have it in me.” Fenris said as he arrived in their room and saw Ellowynne still fast asleep in their bed. Instead he grabbed a rucksack and started to throw things into it. He needed to get out of the house for a while. 

Anders had followed Fenris, still confused; he watched for a moment, and his eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, where - Fenris, where are you going? What’s happened? Why are you leaving?”

The elf caught himself before he yelled at his husband. “Nothing has happened, I’m tired Anders I just want...I just want a little time to myself. Sorry to worry you. I’m just going to my office to be by myself.” Fenris said as he left the bag where it landed and turned to go. 

Anders stood in front of him, eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it me? Is it something I said? Maker, please, I don’t understand! Is - is it because I said I’d stay with Zevran? Because I- I shouted, because I - I - I got angry?” He reached out a trembling hand towards Fenris. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please - I’m so sorry!”

“It’s nothing you’ve done, stop apologizing Anders. I’ll stay, I’ll just… stay.” Fenris said tiredly, he felt like he was going to shatter if he didn’t get time to himself but he’d sworn he wouldn’t be the one to kill Anders if he upset him. He hugged the mage, and tried to calm him down, even as he stared at the wall and wished he could just leave. “You’ll wake Wynne, let’s just go downstairs ok?”

“I’m sorry!” said Anders, his voice dropping almost to a frantic whisper. “Look - I’ll be good, I’ll rest, whatever you want - just - please don’t leave?”

“Stop, just... stop.” Fenris said as he tried to get Anders to walk with him. “Let’s get something to eat and will you please let me just sit and be quiet if we’re in the parlor together?” 

Anders nodded and let Fenris guide him back downstairs. He bit his lip to keep from babbling; something was clearly very wrong and he had no idea what was going on. The house was far too quiet as they went down the stairs.

As they reached the bottom, Anders felt an unexpected breeze on his face. He glanced up, puzzled, and then stared at the hole in the kitchen wall, plainly visible from the hall.

“Fenris...” he said slowly. “What... what happened? H-how?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Ask Invictus or someone else, I’m on edge and if I have to explain, I will go to pieces. Food and sitting quietly is what I can do now, that’s all.” Fenris nudged the mage forward, hopeful he dropped it. 

Anders swallowed, then nodded, obediently letting Fenris guide him forwards. “I’ll... I’ll keep silent,” he promised, his voice full of bewilderment still. Fenris blinked; he knew how much silence could distress Anders at times, and felt guilty at asking it - but the mage’s willing compliance was also troubling. Anders let himself be led by Fenris, making no attempt to stop or pull away - and though his eyes were troubled and full of questions, he kept silent.

The elf made them a fast lunch of cold meats, some cheese and bread for sandwiches and tea. He kept his back to Anders, staring out the window until the kettle whistled. He poured for them and dug into his food, unwilling to speak except to ask if the blond was done. 

Anders’ eyes were on the hole in the wall as he ate and drank, but his eyes flicked back to Fenris often. Several times his lips parted as if to speak, before he caught himself and ducked his head. When Fenris finally spoke, he visibly jumped.

“What? Sorry... yes, thanks,” he stammered out, staring back at the elf. The enforced silence was wearing on his nerves and only serving to heighten his anxiety. 

Fenris sighed as he thought on how Anders hated silence, thinking back to how he couldn’t keep quiet if his life depended on it at times. He tried to give the mage a smile as he approached. “Let’s go in the garden, we can talk without waking Zevran, because you look fit to be tied with the silence I’ve asked for.” 

“I’m sorry,” Anders said automatically without thinking. “It... brings back bad memories. You’d think after so many years, that year in solitary wouldn’t have any further effect on me but there it is - I’m afraid I can’t abide silence too well. I... yes.... the garden would be nice,” he nodded.

“As you wish Anders, come on let’s go and not wake Zevran.” Fenris took his hand and led them out to the corner where they’d set up couches and a table for eating outdoors in good weather. He encouraged Anders to stretch out and lay his head in his lap as he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Talk, about whatever you like except the hole in the wall.”

“Where are Vic and Pin - or... is that... connected?” Anders asked hesitantly. “The house is so quiet, I’d almost think we’re the only ones here apart from Wynne upstairs - I’ve seen no sign of Callus, or Hal either, though they were supposed to be working in the orchard today. If Zevran’s sleeping then that’s good - he needs the rest.” He smiled hesitantly. “More than I do.”

“I think they went to town, that had been the plan anyway. Hal is resting and Callus is sitting with him, they had some things to discuss once Hal woke up and he didn’t want to be alone and insisted I get some things done.” Fenris lied easily, and didn’t open his eyes to see if Anders had fallen for it. 

“After the way he went to pieces when you weren’t there when he got the news about Arden, it doesn’t surprise me that he doesn’t want to be alone,” Anders sighed. “Love, if I sleep with Zevran tonight, you and Vic can invite him in to sleep with you two if you like, so he doesn’t have to sleep alone. I’m fine if you three want to... you know.” He shrugged and smiled. 

“I’m not in the mood for that, and Hal has made it clear he wants space for a while. If he chooses to share the bed for sleep that’s up to him.” Fenris said careful not to snarl at the mage. 

Anders blinked as he felt Fenris tensing beneath him. “Love... I’m just saying... if something _did_ happen, I’d be fine with it. I didn’t mean I was _encouraging_ you to do it. It’s... it’s OK, love. I’m not angry with any of you any more over that. I was hurt for a while, but I’m alright now.” His smile had disappeared as he stared up at Fenris. “You’re... you’re angry,” he said, his voice much quieter. “I can tell by the way you’ve gone tense and... F-Fenris?” A nervous note had crept into his voice.

The elf forced himself to relax and reached out to massage the mage’s scalp. “I’m not angry, I’m just very tired and ….I’m just tired Anders. Can we please just enjoy each other’s company until Invictus gets home?” Fenris asked quietly. 

Anders closed his eyes and made a small noise of pleasure as he felt Fenris’ fingers flex against his scalp. “You can do that to me all you like,” he murmured. “I know you’re doing it to distract me though. But Maker does that feel good.”

“Do you want me to stop then?” Fenris asked as he let his eyes close again and hoped Anders dropped his line of questioning. 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied with a smile as he closed his eyes. “It does make me wonder just why you’re trying to distract me though.”

“You’re like a damned dog with a bone.” Fenris grumbled as he continued to play with Anders’ hair and massaging him.

Anders chuckled. “Oh please - you’re stroking me and I’m on the verge of purring, and you call me a dog? Most unfair!” He shifted slightly so that Fenris’ fingers could reach the nape of his neck, and then he made a soft purring noise in the back of his throat. 

He lay there for a while, just enjoying the sensations of Fenris’ fingers in his hair and against his scalp, then sighed softly. “Fenris,” he asked quietly, his tone serious. “Why did you lie?”

The elf’s hand stopped and he opened his eyes to glare at the mage in his lap. “Anders, why won’t you just let me be and enjoy getting your head rubbed? Can I have nothing to myself?” Fenris asked far too softly. 

“Because if you feel the need to lie to me then it must be something pretty big and pretty serious,” said Anders quietly, not opening his eyes. “Which only makes me worry all the more. I heard you crying, Fenris, and you punched a hole in the wall of the office. And I don’t know what could make you do that. And you’re lying to me and that makes me think maybe it’s something I should worry about even more. Maybe... maybe something that would scare me. And the not knowing is making my mind come up with some pretty unpleasant things that it might be.” He turned his head and opened his eyes. “So I’ll ask one last time: what’s wrong, Fenris? If you tell me, maybe I can help. But if you won’t confide in me, then I shan’t ask again.”

He lay there and waited, his eyes on Fenris’ face.

The elf looked over the garden, contemplating what to say for a while before he spoke. “Callus slept with Hal, we fought. Are you bloody happy now?” Fenris snapped before getting up to pace as he awaited the mage’s response. 

Anders had scrabbled to sit upright to avoid being tipped over into the dirt as Fenris sprang up; he straightened and watched as Fenris paced.

“Hal’s older than Callus by a few years, but he’s still closer to him in age than he is to us,” he said slowly as he watched the irate elf. “So I guess I can see why he might be interested in your son. Is that what this is - you’re... jealous of your son? Or is there more to this than that?”

“Somewhat, Hal… has been delicate since Arden’s death and I just...I didn’t, …” he fell off and sat down, running his hands through his hair in frustration as he tried to explain without telling Anders of the demon. “I just thought Cal took advantage of him and we fought. Can we bloody well drop it now? Please?” Fenris begged. 

Anders dropped his gaze to the dirt at his feet. “Back in the camp on our way to Adamant... some thought that _you_ were taking advantage of Hal,” he said slowly, his tone measured. “They were wrong about that. Could you be wrong about this?”

The elf turned and stared at him, eyes dark in anger. “That was not after he’d been betrayed by Bull, or lost Arden. Don’t you fucking dare say that about me. I asked permission, I tried to help because he felt lost and alone in a strange world. Don’t you think I know Hal well enough… you still think that, don’t you?” he whispered before rising again. “I don’t have to take this, from someone who …how could you say that?” Fenris asked.

Anders‘ head jerked up, his eyes widening in alarm as he pressed himself back and raised his hands in mute surrender. He shook his head, wordless; Fenris thought he saw a flash of fear in the mage’s eyes before he closed them and turned his face away slightly. 

“You’re afraid of me this time, I wouldn’t hurt you Anders.” Fenris said quietly before backing away. “Vic should be back soon, tell him I left so I couldn’t do any more harm. I don’t know where I’m going, just away.” he said before running inside for his pack. 

Anders let his hands fall and drew a slow breath, willing his heart to stop racing. He swallowed against the tight, constricting feeling in his throat; as he opened his eyes, they felt hot and stung. He sat there, his gaze on the dirt at his feet, blinking back tears.

Fenris’ hands werent’ steady as he tried to throw things in the rucksack he’d dropped earlier, and not long before he’d gotten it full, he heard a small voice calling him. He looked up to see Ellowynne sitting up in bed and looking for Anders. “Your dad is in the garden Imp.”

She stared at him, and then at the rucksack in his hands. “Where are you going, Uncle Fen? Are you... are you leaving my Daddy?” She blinked at him, an anxious look in her amber brown eyes that always reminded him so much of her father.

“No sweetheart, I was going to visit with Dorian later. I’m not leaving for good.” Fenris said slowly, letting the pack drop to his feet. “What do you need Wynne?” 

“I want to see my Daddy,” she said. Her eyes flicked to the pack, then back up to Fenris. “Will you take me to him, Uncle Fenris?”

Fenris kept himself from showing how much he didn’t want that, but reached hand out for her to take it and went back towards the garden. He called out to his husband and halted at the sound of crying. _Vishante...malum…_ he swore under his breath as he slowed down. “Anders, I’ve got Wynne and she wanted you, can you come inside, please?” he hoped that the blond would at least try and pretend he hadn’t been crying for his daughter’s sake. 

The crying was the kind of quiet sobbing of someone trying not to be heard; at Fenris’ words, there was a low sniff and the sound of someone trying to choke off their tears, then a cough. “I...I’ll... I’ll be th-there in a min-in-minute,” Anders managed to gasp out with a slight hiccup, his breath catching.

“Uncle Fenris... has Daddy been crying?” Wynne asked slowly as she stared up at him.

“A little bit yes, but he’ll be ok in a minute Wynne. Everyone has been upset lately, it’ll will be ok.” Fenris said dully as he waited for Anders to emerge. 

To his horror, he heard other voices; Invictus calling a greeting to Anders, and then the sounds of running feet and Invictus and Pin both exclaiming in alarm and worry over Anders as he attempted to stammer out some sort of explanation but couldn’t get the words past renewed sobs.

“Mythal, take me to your side right now, I beg of you.” Fenris said as felt Wynne drop his hand and run to her father. 

Invictus held Anders in his arms, worried over his state. “We left him with you, asleep. What happened?” he demanded as he headed inside. “I’ll get those in a bit Pin, help me with Anders please.” Vic said. Pin was setting down bags of building materials as she watched Anders anxiously; she followed after as Wynne ran up to her, babbling about waking up and Uncle Fenris had packed a bag.

At Wynne’s words, Anders cast despairing eyes at Fenris, his eyes red and his face blotchy. “You said you wouldn’t leave!” he cried. “You _said!!_ Was that all lies too? You _said!!_ ” He turned his face away to bury it against Invictus’ shoulder, crying hard.

Wynne was glaring at Fenris. “You made my Daddy cry!” she yelled. “You upset my Daddy!”

The elven warrior looked to the girl and debated on whether she would listen. “I know and I’m sorry Ellowynne. I won’t go anywhere, I’ll just stay here because your daddy wants me to. I’ll just do what he wants and not upset anyone again.” Fenris said dully.

“You lied to Daddy - why should I believe you?” she shrieked. Heat was beginning to coil around her hands, flames licking at her fingers. “You’re running away and you’re _hurting my Daddy!!_ ”

“I don’t know Ellowynne, if you’re going to be angry, go ahead.” Fenris said in that dull voice, not even bothering to flinch from the fire she’d summoned. 

“Wynne, _NO!_ ” shrieked Pin as she saw the young girl with her hands wreathed in fire.

“I _HATE_ you, you’re just as bad as Arden!” Wynne screamed. She flung her hands towards him, and balls of fire went hurling out at wild angles as she lost control in the midst of her fury.

Anders looked around at that moment and cried out in horror. “Wynne - Maker, no, _NO!_ ” It was too late; fire was already licking along the hall carpet, at the bannister on the stairs, upon the stair carpet and beginning to flicker upwards.

“Dumat - she’s set the house on fire!” cried Pin as the fire in the stairs suddenly whooshed upwards and smoke began to fill the air.

“Hal,” breathed Anders, horrified. “Hal and Callus were upstairs!”

“ _CALLUS!!_ ” screamed Pin.

Invictus cast a cone of cold on what he could reach and shoved them back towards the garden. “Pin, cast ice and put that fire out, I’ll go and get them.” Invictus said as he used ice ahead of himself, glad it worked to put things out. 

Fenris just watched as things burned, and smoldered out after Vic’s casting barely ahead of running through the house. It wasn’t until he heard a panicked yell about Zevran that he went inside to gather the smaller elf in his arms and teleport out. He sat on the ground and held Zevran in his arms, silently watching them fight the fire.

As Callus sat with Hal, he’d noticed how warm it was and then he heard the screaming of his name. He touched the door and felt how hot it was. “Dumat’s horns...fire.” he turned back to wake Hal. “Get up, there’s a fire.” 

Hal stirred slightly and turned his head, his eyes slowly blinking open. “Callus?” he slurred dazedly. “What....”

He suddenly caught the distinct scent of smoke and sat up, alarmed. “Maker,” he breathed. He leapt up and grabbed his pants. “Can we get out through the door?”

“I don’t think so, the door is damned hot. Can you cast ice magic?” Callus asked as he fought not to panic. 

Invictus cussed up a storm as he saw how the fire was getting ahead of them. He twirled his staff in a tight arc before calling down a blizzard to stop the flames. “Hal! If you’re in there, I need you to help me before the house goes up!.” Vic yelled as he got ready to cast Blizzard again to put out the fire before it got further. 

Hal took a deep breath and then doubled over coughing as the smoke in the air hit his lungs. “Fucking Void!” he swore, his eyes streaming. “Callus, get away from the door.” He straightened, ice already wreathing about his arms, and flung out a hand to cast an ice blast at the door. It shattered outwards, and then a blast of hot air struck them as the flames roared in the hall.

Hal swallowed hard, his throat burning from the smoke, already weaving another spell before he unleashed his own Blizzard on the conflagration in the hall, his eyes streaming from the soot in the air.

Anders followed after Invictus. “Vic, the two of us together will be able to cast a bigger ice tempest than either of us could alone!” he shouted over the roar of the fire.

“I told you to fucking get out with Wynne!” Invictus shouted back.

“She’s outside with Pin - now shut the fuck up, we don’t have time to argue!” yelled Anders. He glanced up at the fire. “Hal!” he screamed. “Hal, ice tempest! Biggest one you can cast!”

From somewhere beyond the flames they heard coughing, and then Hal’s voice. “I’m on it! Cal, get back - by the window!”

Invictus cast one more Blizzard before leaning against a charred section of the wall and coughing. “Maker dammit, I need lyrium and air.” he huffed. 

Anders pressed a hand against his back and channeled a brief burst of healing through him, and Invictus felt the pain in his lungs ease a little. “One last blast, love,” Anders encouraged him. 

They could hear hissing as Hal’s own ice tempest went off, ice sublimating in the heat before the water doused the flames. Anders straightened and started weaving his own ice tempest. “Together, love!” he urged Invictus.

Invictus straightened and drew on his magic, channelling it together with Anders until finally they unleashed it. The air was filled with the sound of angry hissing as the ice hit the flames; steam filled the air.

When it had dispersed, Hal was staring at them from the remains of the charred hallway.

“Oh thank fuck, I thought … I was worried we wouldn’t be able to stop it. Callus, Hal are you alright?” Invictus called from where he’d slumped in the hallway. 

“Yeah, ok as we can be.” Callus called out as he made his way to them. “Dumat’s balls this is going to be work to fix. Guess we all need to pitch in.” 

“No, we’re getting workmen from the village and Anders will stay out of sight or I’ll put a glamour on him. Go downstairs, I’m going to open windows to clear this place out.” Vic said tiredly.

Hal was doubled over, coughing; as Invictus spoke, he managed to straighten, Callus coming forward to slap him between the shoulderblades. “I’ll be alright,” he croaked.

Anders had slid down the wall to sit with his eyes closed, his own breath rasping a little. He looked pale and shaken beneath the mask of soot over his face - one which they all wore.

“Callus, can you check on your sister and father please? Neither looked ok before I ran in here to put out the fire.” Vic said tiredly. 

“Zevran,” Anders panted. “Did... did Fenris get to Zevran?” He started pushing himself back up again, coughing.

“I think so, I haven’t heard screaming or crying os I’m guessing he got him. If not, we’ll know as soon as I can get up and look over what’s left of the bannister.” Vic said. “I can’t leave you all alone for a fucking hour.” he muttered as he got to his feet and looked, glad to see the chair empty. “Looks like he got him, let’s get downstairs.” 

Hal was glancing up at the ceiling. “The fire didn’t get into the roof, at least,” he said, his voice rasping a little. “I think mostly it’s smoke damage up here, apart from the stairs and the floor there.”

Anders had sunk down again to sit on the floor with his back against the soot-stained wall, his breath wheezing slightly.

“Thank fuck.” Vic said before he went to sit next to Anders. “You doing ok love?” 

“Can’t quite catch my breath,” replied Anders. “I’ll be alright in a minute.”

In the sudden silence as they all fought to catch their breaths, they could hear Wynne screaming frantically for her father - and Zevran’s voice, though the words were indistinct.

“Wynne - I need to -” Anders broke off as he stared at the charred spot where the stairs had stood. He blinked. At some point as they fought the flames upstairs, what remained of the stairs had collapsed down to the floor below, leaving them stranded on the upper floor. “Uh, love, I think we’re going to need your skills to get us down,” Anders finished.

Invictus frowned as he got up and opened a portal to the garden. “Everyone outside, now.” he said with a glance at them all, before following Anders through and getting out of the way as Wynne nearly tackled her father in relief. 

Fenris picked Zevran up and helped him limp over to Anders, his expression neutral as he waited for someone to give him direction on what to do next. 

Wynne was hysterically apologising to her father, her words almost incoherent as she clung to him; Anders stared around, looking slightly dazed as he wheezed and tried to calm her. He glanced back at the house, at the hole in the wall of the kitchen, the charred remains of the stairs just visible through the door arch leading from the kitchen.

Hal was coughing hard, Callus’ arm around him helping him to stay upright. Pin had let Wynne go the moment Anders appeared, and as Hal and Callus emerged into the garden she raced to their side to hug her brother.

Zevran reached out to Anders and then drew him close to hug him, uncaring of the soot which smeared across his face and on his clothes.

Anders glanced to Fenris, silent as he held on to Wynne and Zevran, his breath still wheezing in his lungs.

The taller elf stared through Anders as he noticed the mage watching him. He remained in place, listening to the chatter around them and hoping Invictus or someone would give him direction.

Invictus noticed the vacant look on the elf’s face but wasn’t sure what had caused it and he was too tired and near exhaustion to question it until later. “Guess we’re all sleeping in the parlor tonight huh?” he tried to joke. 

Anders blinked as Fenris stared at him, then through him; the tightness in his throat and the redness of his eyes were not entirely due to the effects of the smoke as he glanced away, unable to bear the sight of Fenris seemingly deliberately blanking him. 

Pin had pressed her hand against Hal’s back and was channelling healing into him much as Anders had done earlier for Invictus, as Callus supported the redhead. He glanced around and at that moment made eye contact with his father. He went white beneath the layer of soot smeared across his face.

Invictus sighed as he looked around at all of them, glad everyone was accounted for. “Callus, get Hal and Anders inside please and mind the water from all of our casting. Pin, help Zevran please and you, Ellowynne, I’d better not see so much as a wisp from you young lady.” 

Ellowynne had managed to calm down, but at Invictus’ words her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Vic!” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, honest!”

“Hush, sweetheart,” said Anders breathlessly. “Let’s... let’s save it for later... OK?”

“My heart?” said Zevran as he straightened. He glanced to Invictus, then back at Anders.

“I’m OK... I just... just really need to sit down,” replied Anders.

Pin glanced over at them then, with a worried look to Hal and Callus, hurried over to Anders’ side. “Master Anders?”

“Can’t quite catch my breath,” he panted as he tried to smile and reassure her.

“Sit down - here, on the grass -” she began, even as Hal and Callus hurried over to join them. 

“I’m sorry, I just...” Anders was protesting breathlessly as Hal and Callus lowered him gently onto the grass whilst Pin slung an arm around Zevran’s waist to help him balance.

“Stay there, we’ll get you in a bit ok?” Vic said before glancing up to notice Fenris was just standing there, staring off at nothing. 

“What’s wrong with him? It was just a fire, well...I guess Wynne did aim at him, thankfully she missed.” Vic said as he approached his husband and waved a hand in front of Fenris’ face. “Fen?”

Pin had produced Anders’ digitalis pills from somewhere and Hal was gently trying to coax Anders to take them as Wynne looked on with frightened wide eyes, tearful but silent. Anders was still weakly protesting he would be fine in a minute, he just needed to catch his breath.

Zevran reached out a hand and drew Wynne to stand close to him as he watched the others clustered around the blond mage. 

“Fenris, come on...don’t do this to me. Come on, blink, look at me, something?” Invictus asked, trying not to panic. “What happened before we got home, why is he like this, again?” the brunet asked before he turned to the others. 

The elven fighter didn’t respond to his husband’s words, he continued to stare ahead, though he was covered in soot and probably had inhaled smoke while trying to keep Zevran from hurting himself even worse. All he’d wanted was to leave, and he had in a way. 

Callus glanced up, and stared nervously at his father. “He and I... had... a fight,” he admitted slowly. “But he was nothing like this when I left him - he was fine! Angry, but fine! I don’t know what happened to cause this.”

“ _Carissimi_?” asked Zevran softly; if Fenris heard him, he gave no sign.

“H-he packed a bag,” said Wynne, hiccuping. “Daddy thought he was leaving. That’s why Daddy was crying.”

“When we realised you and Anders had turned back inside... we thought...” added Pin slowly, her voice trembling. “We thought you were dead. That you were there, in the fire. Callus and Hal too. We thought we’d lost you.”

Zevran hugged her, briefly; from the pained look on Zevran’s face it was clear he had feared the same.

“Fucking Void. Ok, you all get into the house, get cleaned up and I’ll coax him inside.” Invictus said as he tugged on Fenris’ hands, grateful the elf followed along behind him. He sat him on the couch and talked to him quietly in the hopes something would make him react to him. 

“Love, I’m worried about you. You haven’t even looked at me, or if you heard Zevran, you didn’t respond. What’s caused this, what have we done to you?” Invictus said as he straightened up. “Someone get me a basin of hot water, a couple of flannels and some soap so I can clean him up.” Vic called.

Pin stuck her head around the door of the parlour. “I’ve got pots on the stove to heat water so everyone can wash, and Hal and I are going to use a touch of fire magic to speed things up,” she replied. “Just give us a few minutes, Papa-Vic - things are... a bit chaotic in the kitchen right now.” She grimaced then disappeared back into the kitchen. He heard her exclaim loudly, “ _Venhedis_ \- is there a single towel in this house that doesn’t stink of smoke??”

Invictus sighed as he finally went out to get the packages they’d left, hoping some of it was salvageable, he dropped things in the kitchen then went back out to check on Fenris, slightly panicking over the way the elf had turned in on himself. “Maker, what can I do to help you?” 

A little while later, Pin reappeared, carrying a tray which held a bowl of hot water, soap, towels and a couple of steaming mugs of tea. “There’ll be hot food in a bit, Papa Vic,” she said, then glanced at her father. “Is there no change?” she said, quieter.

“No, I just hope he doesn’t come around and not realize who I am when I clean him up.” Vic said tiredly before scrubbing his own face and working on his husband. 

“He didn’t respond to either Zevran or Master Anders,” she said worriedly. “And he seemed to look clean through Callus. Do you think maybe Hal might be able to get through to him?”

“I honestly don’t know Pin, I’m kind of scared honestly.” Vic said as he dabbed the last of the soot from Fenris’ face. “Help me get him into his favorite chair, and I’ll put a blanket on him. Maybe put him to sleep if he just keeps staring like that, it's ...unnerving.” 

They managed to get Fenris into the chair; the elf stared into space, vacantly.

“I’m going to fetch Hal,” Pin decided. “It’s worth a try, at least - he’s always been fond of Hal.” She disappeared into the kitchen; a moment later, she returned with Hal in tow. The young man was still dressed in just pants and the shirt, which was now singed in several spots and grey with soot.

Hal approached Fenris then crouched down in front of the elf and took Fenris’ hands in his. “Hey, Fenris,” he called gently. “It’s me, Hal. Can you look at me?”

After a while, the fighter flicked his gaze to Hal then back to the empty fireplace. He glanced up again at the squeeze to his hands, unsure why they wouldn’t let him be. 

“Fenris?” Hal prompted him again. “Fenris, can you talk to us? We’re here for you. Can you tell us what’s wrong?” He regarded Fenris with gentle concern as he knelt at the elf’s feet.

There was a soft chime, and Hal blinked, uncertain where the sound had come from. There was a second chime, then a third before he realised the sound was coming from one of the rings on the elf’s hand.

“Fenris, your ring is... uh, chiming,” said Hal, a little uncertainly. “Do you know why? Can you tell me?”

“Dorian...made plans but then a fire happened.” the elf replied quietly as he thumbed the ring and turned away from them. “I wanted to go, but I couldn’t, no one would let me.” he mumbled before curling up in his chair even more. 

“ _Amicus_?” Dorian’s voice sounded startled. “ _Amicus_ , are you alright? You took several minutes to answer - has something happened?”

Hal remained kneeling at Fenris’ feet, staring at the ring. “Dorian? Dorian, there’s been a fire, things are... um... a bit of a mess.”

“A fire?” exclaimed Dorian, alarmed; somewhere in the background they heard Meneris’ voice asking what was the matter. “Just a minute love - Hal, is that you? Is everyone safe?”

Hal glanced up at Fenris, then the ring again. “No-one was hurt physically - Anders and I breathed in a little too much smoke but I’m OK, and Anders will be. Fenris... Fenris isn’t OK.”

“ _Amicus_?” said Dorian softly. “Fenris, what’s wrong?”

“Everything, I just want to go away.” the elf said quietly, tears slipping down his face as he tried to keep calm. “I wanted to leave, I...I just want to go.” he sobbed. 

They heard Dorian swearing very softly, then low voices as he and Meneris conferred, before his voice sounded clearer again. “ _Amicus_ , I’m on my way. I’ll be opening up a portal. Hal, Meneris is getting together the craftspeople; we’ll be bringing quite a few through with us to assess the damage and plan the repairs. There’s room enough for all of you in Skyhold should you have need of somewhere to stay - how bad is it?”

Hal sighed. “Pretty bad. Stairs are gone, as is about half the upstairs landing; we can’t get to the upstairs bedrooms. But... ah....” He turned and glanced at Invictus, then back at the ring. “You can’t bring craftspeople here. No-one’s supposed to know Anders is alive.”

They could hear more quiet conferring. “Hal, Meneris and I will come through alone. We’ll bring yourself, Anders and Fenris directly through to our room first, then I’ll take the craftspeople through separately. We’ll figure out what to do after that, alright? _Venhedis_ , this is a pretty mess. Give me ten minutes, Hal.”

There was a soft chime, then the ring went dark.

Invictus glanced at Hal, Pin and Fenris. “You go with them, I’ll deal with the workers. I can sleep in Zevran’s room so the house isn’t entirely empty. I’ll see what Pin and the others want to do, I’m guessing Ellowynne won’t want to leave her father. What a damned mess.” Vic said tired with a look to his husband. 

“Fenris, do you need anything?” he asked quietly.

The warrior shook his head no and remained turned from the others. 

“I’ll go let the others know,” said Pin. “I don’t think Master Anders has any clothes downstairs, unless there was anything just cleaned - I’ll check.”

“Thank you Pin.” Vic came over and ran his fingers through Fenris’ hair, worried for how fragile his love had been the last couple of months, though he couldn’t blame him honestly. It seemed like the Void was opened up under their home and doing it level best to drive them all off the edge. 

“Do you want to be alone when you get to Skyhold love? Can I do anything for you, please talk to me, you know it scares me when you turn in like this.” Vic just ran his fingers through the thick white hair, occasionally glancing at Hal. 

Hal stared up at Fenris, worry and fear plain on his face as he knelt at Fenris’ feet, staring at the elf as his hands twisted together in his agitation.

“I’ve... I’ve never seen him like this before,” he said in a hushed voice. “Maker, what... is there anything I can do? Fenris... please talk to us? Don’t... don’t go away from us like this!”

“Safer, better when I go away. I just wanted to be left alone and I couldn’t have that. I wish Ellowynne had hit me with her fireball.” Fenris mumbled then closed his eyes as he tried to just sleep or ignore everything. 

“Don’t say that!” pleaded Hal. “Don’t... I can’t bear to lose anyone else! Fenris... please, please don’t say that!” There were tears in the corners of his eyes as he stared up at the elf, distraught. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you too!”

“Everyone would be better off without me, I’ve never been useful. I’m staying, no one will let me go anywhere anyway.” Fenris muttered. “Just tell me when I have to get out of this chair.” 

“Stop saying that! _Please_ stop saying that!” cried Hal, the tears now rolling down his face. “Please, it would kill me if you died! Don’t - don’t say such things, _no-one_ here would be better off without you!”

Fenris glanced down at Hal and sighed, and sat up reluctantly. “There, I’m up, stop yelling.” he said dully. 

Hal reached up to take Fenris’ hands then pressed his face to them, his head bowed as his shoulders shook. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he wept. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just can’t stand the thought of losing you - not now, not so soon after losing Arden - not ever!”

“Doesn’t matter Hal, I’m used to not getting what I want. Just tell me where to go and I’ll go. Unless I’m incredibly stupid and my luck runs out, I don’t plan on dying any time soon. Just don’t yell anymore.” Fenris sounded wrung out and tired. He glanced down then to Invictus. “Are you coming too Vic?” 

“Not yet love, someone has to show the workmen around. I’ll come after they get instructions ok?” Vic said as he leaned in to kiss the elf on the cheek. “I’ll try not to be long.”

As he spoke, there was the sound of voices in the hallway, and then Dorian appeared in the doorway. 

“Ah, _amicus_ , there you are! Oh, and Hal and Invictus too. We’ll be ready shortly - Pin’s just digging out what clean clothes there are in the laundry.” He stared down at Hal. “My word - Hal, you’re barely dressed!”

Hal straightened slowly and glanced down at the ruined remains of his shirt. “I was sleeping when the fire broke out,” he said, his voice still shaking a little. “The rest of my clothes are upstairs, as are my boots.”

“ _Venhedis_ , we can’t have that!” exclaimed the magister as he swept in; he tugged Hal to his feet and spun him around to face him then eyed him critically. “Well, you’ve height, but you’re a skinny thing, aren’t you?” he remarked as he shrugged out of his outer robe. “No matter, this will have to do - strip off that rag.”

Hal stared at him startled, then obediently stripped off the ruined shirt silently. He didn’t speak as Dorian dressed him in the robe then tied it closed with the sash.

“Can’t do anything about boots I’m afraid but I’m sure we can find something to fit you at Skyhold until we can retrieve your things later on.” Dorian eyed him for a moment then nodded in satisfaction. He gestured to a nearby couch. “Sit down.”

Hal sat, silent, his eyes on Dorian.

The magister turned to Fenris. “ _Amicus_ ,” he said warmly and held his hands out to the elf.

Fenris glanced up at his friend and got out of his chair to hug Dorian close. “Take me to Skyhold, please, I just want to get out of here.” he whispered. 

Dorian wrapped his arms around Fenris and glanced at Invictus with an expression of worry. “That’s exactly what I’m here to do, _amicus_ ,” he replied as he tightened his arms a little. “You, Hal and Anders are coming back with me to Skyhold. We’re just going to take a little hop to our rooms, alright? We’re just waiting for Anders to be ready. Meneris is going to give him a hand with Wynne, and you’re coming with Hal and I, alright? Anders’ old room directly below ours is still empty; we’ll put you all there once we’ve gotten things sorted out at this end. You can have Zevran’s room if you like? Your own little space, how about that?” He was staring anxiously at Invictus over Fenris’ shoulder, even as he held the tall elf.

Invictus shrugged, he was just as perplexed as the magister. He mimed a person walking over a cliff and pointed at Fenris before looking to the others. He had no clue what had pushed the elf to turn in on himself. 

“A space of my own?” Fenris asked softly, like he didn’t believe the mage.

“Absolutely, _amicus_ ,” agreed Dorian quietly. “Whatever you need, it will be provided, to the best of my or Meneris’ ability.” His eyes had widened at Invictus’ mimed explanation before darkening with sorrow. “Fenris, whatever has happened to you?” he murmured. “Let’s get you home.”

“Don’t want to talk right now, I just want to lie down and be quiet, if anyone will let me.” Fenris said as he finally let Dorian go. He thought about teleporting to their room for clothes but didn’t care enough to bother. He sat down while they waited for Anders, antsy and eager to go. 

Meneris appeared in the doorway, Anders’ arm around his shoulder as he supported the mage. Anders looked exhausted, his face grey; he was still wheezing slightly. Ellowynne was clinging to her father’s other hand, but as she spotted Fenris and Invictus she hid behind her father.

“Are we ready to go?” asked the elf. “I don’t like the looks of Anders.” He glanced to Hal. “Hal, come and take Anders please - I think he’ll need your skills when we arrive.”

Hal rose to his feet and came to take Anders from Meneris, then blinked as he felt Ellowynne grab hold of his sash belt as she hid behind him.

“Right, best I open the portal in here then,” said Dorian as he clapped his hands together then shook them out, taking a deep breath as he stepped away from Fenris and began gathering energy. A small ball of green flame formed in his hands, then he flung his arms wide and the portal snapped into existence; they could see Meneris’ suite at Skyhold through the flaming green ring of fire.

Dorian gestured to Hal. “Step smartly now; go put Anders on our bed for now.”

His face blank, Hal obeyed. As they passed Invictus, Anders lifted his head and stretched a hand out to the other mage. “Vic -” he began, but Hal didn’t stop.

Fenris followed behind them, head down and eager to get to the other room he’d been promised. He glanced back at the others briefly before stepping aside and looking for the door. 

Invictus waved at Anders and gave him a smile. “I love you, it will be ok. I’ll join you soon ok?” he called out to the other mage. 

“Vic!” Anders cried. He tried to reach back, struggling against Hal. “No - please, just give me a moment -”

“What’s wrong love?” Vic said as he went to meet Anders part way. “Its ok, I’ll join you soon.” 

Hal was continuing to drag Anders into the room even as Anders struggled to reach backwards.

“Vic - no, Hal, please, just stop!” Anders pleaded. “Just give me a moment with Vic!”

“Hal, stop and let Anders come to me.” Vic said rather brusquely, surprised when the younger mage let go of his husband, and nearly let the mage stumble. “You ok love?” he asked as he held Anders. 

“I just wanted a chance to say goodbye,” said Anders breathlessly. “Just - just a moment, a - a kiss?”

“Of course love.” Vic said before pulling Anders up and kissing him until he felt a little lightheaded. “That what you needed?” 

Anders nodded. “I wish you were coming with us,” he admitted. “Maker. This is all so... horrible. Will you follow? Later? I- I need you. And - Maker, please look after Zevran; I’m worried about him. I love you. I love you so much.” He clung to Invictus and kissed him again.

“Of course, we’ll be along soon as we can get the workmen walked through and I’ll keep an eye on him for you. Look after Fenris for me, I’m worried for him.” Vic kissed him one last time before stepping back through the portal to their kitchen. 

Anders watched him go, then his eyes lifted to Callus, who was lingering in the hallway and watching Hal, a queasy look on his face. Anders turned back to Hal, nonplused, wondering what Callus had seen that disturbed him.

“All in? Good,” smiled Dorian as he let the portal close.

Fenris had found the door and was lingering by it, unsure what would happen if he ran down and locked himself in Zevran’s old room before anyone told him to go. He looked at Hal and Anders unhappily before glancing at Ellowynne, then back to Dorian. “Is the room unlocked?” 

Dorian nodded. “It is, _amicus_ ,” he said gently. “The bedlinen is clean, and there is food and wine on the table. May I come visit you later?”

“I...maybe, I really need time to myself. Knock first if you must come down, please?” Fenris said as he opened the door leading down to their old rooms. 

Dorian watched him go, then turned back to see Hal was very determinedly pushing Anders down onto the bed, the blond mage struggling slightly.

“Hal, stop it, I’m fine - I don’t need to lie down!” Anders was insisting, breathlessly.

“Hal! Let him alone if he’s not tired, the poor man has had enough today.” Meneris said before Ellowynne went to her father. 

“Come on, we need to get you some clothes until your things can be fetched from the house and I’m sure Anders would like some time to talk with his daughter.” Meneris held his hand out to the redhead, concerned at how literally he was taking everything. 

Anders flopped back onto the pillows, exhausted by struggling with Hal. “Alright,” he panted as Ellowynne scrambled onto the bed to curl up with her father. “You win, Hal. I haven’t the breath to fight.”

Hal ignored Anders, instead following Meneris. He had tucked his hands into the sleeved of the heavy black brocade over-robe Dorian had dressed him in. He regarded Meneris blankly, then slowly pulled a hand from the sleeve of the robe and laid it in that of Meneris. His mismatched eyes were empty as he inclined his head, indicating Meneris should lead the way.

 

***

 

Callus retreated back to the kitchen, shaken. He dropped into the chair next to Zevran, who was resting his head on his arms, folded upon the table. As Invictus entered the kitchen after Callus, Zevran opened his eyes briefly to glance at him before closing them again. There was a pinched, drawn look about the Antivan’s face.

“Do you want me to get you to your bed Zevran? You seem tired amore.” Vic asked as he approached the blond elf. 

“Callus, will you start some tea if you can find any that doesn’t smell like smoke?” Vic asked the boy before turning to the Antivan elf. 

Zevran shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Potion... if there are any....” His eyes were still closed, but as he shifted slightly he made a grimace and a very faint pained grunt.

Pin had jumped up. “I think there’s some decent unspoiled tea in the pantry,” she said as she headed off to check.

Callus had risen and stood there, looking indecisive as he stared at the quiet Antivan. His face was looking slightly green as he fidgeted.

“Will you get him a potion then Callus, and stop standing around like you’re lost. Already had your father looking like that already today.” Vic said as he laid a hand on Zevran’s head and tried to heal him. 

“Ser,” said Callus quietly. “Hal - does he always do as he’s told like that?”

Zevran groaned quietly.

“Sometimes, usually when he’s been under a lot of stress or things are just too much for him. Remember he was tranquil for some time and it's hard to shake that kind of behavior. He’ll snap out of it sooner than later, I hope. Now go get that potion for Zevran please?” Vic said a tad sharply.

“Four years, he told me,” said Callus. “Then... if someone asked him to do something... would he find it hard to say no?” He swallowed hard as he stared at Invictus desperately.

Pin returned with a tea caddy at that moment. “Who would find it hard to say no?” she asked. “Oh, Papa Vic, I found some elfroot in the pantry - I think it’s untainted by smoke; shall I brew elfroot tea for Zevran?”

“Callus, go get me a damn potion so Zevran can feel better.” Vic snapped at the younger elf before turning to his sister. “Would you please Pin, and make enough for me, I’m getting a headache from the stress.” 

“Just answer me!” shouted Callus. “Can he give consent to something or not??”

Zevran lifted his head at that and stared at Callus.

“My apprentice... you had best not have done what I think you are suggesting,” he growled.

“Oh _vishante kaffas_ ,” breathed Callus. “Oh fuck me, fuck me, no!”

“Cal?” said Pin, startled.

He suddenly fled for the back door of the kitchen, staggering out into the garden where he threw up, noisily.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one can catch a damn break whether at home or in Skyhold. Anders tires of secrets and Hal takes things into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Emotional trauma, blood, mentions of some past trauma.

Fenris had curled up in bed, glad to finally be left alone. His mind would not settle now that he wasn’t being questioned by others, or trying to keep Zevran still. He found a strange peace in staring at the candles that lit the room, especially since he didn’t have to do anything, just drift. He wasn’t sure how long he’d laid there before there was a knock on the door. 

“ _Amicus_?” Dorian’s voice was muffled by the door.

Fenris considered not answering, but he knew the magister wouldn’t just go away. “Yes, Dorian?” he replied, not moving to open the door. 

Dorian tried the door; finding it unlocked, he pushed it open then stood in the doorway. He had a couple of bottles of wine under one arm and a slightly uncertain look upon his face that was rather out of character for the magister.

“I was wondering if you cared to share a drink - but if you prefer I leave you in peace then I can go,” he said cautiously.

“If you want, you can stay Dorian.” Fenris said listlessly. He had no preference, he figured that time to himself was over, and if he said no it would cause a fight he had no energy for. 

“I... thank you, Fenris,” replied Dorian as he inclined his head in thanks. He entered, closing the door behind him before setting the bottles on a nearby table. “Aggregio Pavali - I recall you were quite fond of it?” he inquired as he glanced around for glasses.

“I am, yes. Sorry but if there are glasses I don’t know where they are.” Fenris sat up, dropping the blanket to show he’d pulled off his shirt and tunic to sleep in just his pants. He fiddled with a string as he watched the other man roam around the room. 

“Ah - here we are; I thought it likely that Zevran would have had glasses in here somewhere,” remarked Dorian as he found a glass-fronted cabinet with glassware. “Oh, and he even managed to leave a bottle of brandy behind! Nearly full, too.” He pulled out a couple of glasses then set about pouring them both a glass of wine each. He turned back to Fenris and held out a glass to him. “To be honest, these rooms haven’t been touched since you all left for Nevarra - save to put fresh linen on the beds when we knew you three and Wynne would be coming here. Anders is settled and sleeping in his old room with Wynne, and Hal’s got Wynne’s old room at present. He’s... not doing too well, I’m afraid. Belated shock perhaps. Retreated back into his old Tranquil behaviour; we’re hoping that being in familiar surroundings plus time and space to heal mean he’ll gradually come back to himself.”

As Fenris took his glass, Dorian sat on the edge of the bed. He raised his glass in a silent toast and took a mouthful. “We’ll have your stuff sent over from your old rooms in a bit - you lot left quite a bit behind, what with flitting off after the dissolution of the Inquisition. We sent on a fair amount to Nevarra but I think there’s still a couple of chests of clothes still in storage that we’ll sort out for you whilst you wait for stuff to be cleaned and so forth.” 

“Thank you, you’re kind to take us in on such short notice, sorry to be a bother.” Fenris said quietly as he sat back and pondered his wine. He glanced at the magister then back to his wine, unsure of himself. 

“Believe me, it’s no bother, _amicus_ ,” replied Dorian with a wave of his hand. “Without the Inquisition around, this place is pretty quiet. There are the mages of course, but there’s hardly enough of them to fill this whole fortress, after all. There is plenty of room to spare and very little chance of Anders being discovered here. I dare say our craftspeople and Dagna will be glad of some actual work for once. Shouldn’t take them long to fix up your house.” 

He leaned forward and smiled. “Or you could all just move back here again... that is, if you had a mind to? There’s not even a chantry here now; Mother Giselle couldn’t wait to leave once the Inquisition was gone. No templars to bother any of your magefolk. Krem’s Chargers are still based out of Skyhold - plenty of mercenary work if you felt yourself at a loose end. And Invictus would be welcomed back with open arms - Parcival’s our First Enchanter but he’d quite gladly step down if Invictus wanted his old job back.” He leaned back. “But no hurry. You’ll doubtless all want to catch your breaths and recover from this horrible past month.”

Fenris shrugged as he kept his gaze down, unable to meet the other man’s eyes once he started speaking. “They can decide on what to do, I don’t care anymore. I can’t even find a few minutes alone lately to settle my mind, or leave when I just...when I can’t take it and I need to be alone, but they won’t let me be.” he caught himself before he went on a tear and started to cry again or fall apart. “I guess I’m not alright, maybe I should just come back here and be alone for a while, maybe that would be better than feeling trapped.” he muttered. 

Dorian looked worried. “No-one should ever feel trapped with their loved ones, _amicus_ ,” he said slowly. “Maybe a time of peace and quiet is just what you need.”

The elf sniffed as he finally looked to his friend. “ _A...amicus_ , I guess that’s it, why I’ve been unhappy besides all that has happened to us. I’ve always preferred to be on my own when I have a lot on my mind. But since we’ve gone to Nevarra, and with everything ...it’s like trying to go causes a fight. Me trying to leave, and Anders crying about it is why the fire happened. Wynne got angry with me, her magic went wild and ...you saw what the house looks like now.” 

“Ah,” replied Dorian softly. “Now Wynne’s state makes more sense - and Anders, too. He was afraid you were leaving for good, then?”

“I guess so, Wynne was upset when she saw me packing a bag, and that made him more upset. We’d already had words and I wasn’t at my best before she tried to flash fry me. I wish she’d ...I wish she hadn’t missed.” Fenris said quietly before setting his empty glass aside. 

“No, Fenris, I don’t think you really do,” said Dorian quietly. “You’re upset and exhausted, but I don’t think you really prefer the idea of death. You just need a break. I think you _all_ need a break - from each other, perhaps, but most certainly from circumstances and worry. Are you content to be this close to Anders, or would you prefer your old room? It’s exactly as you left it, _amicus_ \- and in light of what Wynne has done, perhaps a little distance would be no bad thing, though I’m not sure how Anders might react. But we’ll deal with his response as and when we need to, hmm?”

“He’ll think I’m leaving him again probably.” Fenris scrubbed at his face and sighed. “I’m so tired Dorian, so bloody tired of being dragged around by fate or Mythal, or what have you.” he held his glass out for a refill and considered it before telling his friend of what had him in such a state. “I...we, Anders and I we had words because I lied to him, well didn’t tell the whole truth. I was upset after fighting with Callus and he finally got it out of me. I’m afraid I didn’t deal with it well, and I ran off to pack a bag and come here; but this wasn’t what I’d been planning.” 

Dorian refilled his own glass. “I rather gather this isn’t what _any_ of you had planned,” he replied. “Anders had mentioned to me before that Wynne reaches first for fire - and as is common with mages when upset, her aim is atrocious, for which we can all be grateful - even if it has led to unfortunate circumstances. I’m glad her father has better self-control; we can all hope that Wynne learns to emulate him sooner than later.” He sighed. “We’ll have a better idea of how things stand when the craftspeople draw up their plans and assessments; I left Invictus dealing with them. Which I think distracted him nicely from the huge blazing row he was having with your son in the middle of the cabbage patch, of all places. Zevran had passed out at the kitchen table and I think Pin wasn’t sure which way to turn, poor girl.”

“He was fighting with Callus? About what?” Fenris asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

“Something to do with Hal was all I could get out of any of them, though neither Callus nor Invictus would say further than that, Pin was as confused as I was - and as I said, Zevran had passed out.” Dorian shrugged. “The arrival of the craftspeople gave Invictus something else to worry about instead, at least, and perhaps with Hal here that means they won’t take up their argument the moment they’re alone again.”

Fenris had sat up straight at the other man’s words, his eyes getting wide at what it could mean. He emptied his glass and started looking for his clothes. “I have to go back before Vic kills him, I’m so stupid.” 

Dorian blinked. “Fenris? Why on earth would Invictus try to kill Callus? He was angry, but I wouldn’t have said homicidally so.”

“He...oh Maker, this is so bad.” the elf said as he tried to lace his tunic but gave up on it. “I’ll be back, just don’t tell Hal about this, ever.” 

“Fenris, wait - what are you expecting to find? What in the Void happened back there?” exclaimed Dorian, bewildered. “And what should I say to Anders, should he ask?”

“Callus...slept with Hal, and its complicated, and ...I hope I get there before Vic beats him senseless. Tell him I left, I don’t know!” Fenris said before lighting his brands and arriving in the practice ring, only to hear crying and screaming. “Malum.” he muttered before running for the sounds only to find Pin in hysterics as she sat with Zevran in the garden.

“What’s going on? Dorian told me he heard them arguing, who’s screaming?” he asked his daughter. 

Zevran was sprawled unconscious beside Pin; as she stared up at her father, startled, they heard another scream of agony.

“The woodshed,” Pin breathed. “Vic - he’s taken Callus to the woodshed. He’s going to kill him, Papa - he was so angry!”

“Heal Zevran as best you can, I’ll try and keep Callus from getting beaten to death.” Fenris bolted to the woodshed to find Callus trying to get away from Invictus, who was reared back to crack the elven boy across the back with the same belt he’d beaten Arden with. “Invictus, STOP!” he yelled.

Callus flung himself down upon his knees in front of his father and bowed his head as he stretched out his hands in the slaves’ supplication for mercy. His back was crisscrossed with raised red welts, the skin broken in places and bleeding - though not enough to explain the blood soaked into the unfinished wooden floorboards, Fenris realised as he stared down at them. It took him a moment to realise it was old blood.

Fenris felt nausea rising in his guts as he recognised the spray pattern from a whipping - and a brutal, bloody beating at that. The kind that a slave could easily die from.

He swallowed as he stepped in front of his son and glared at Invictus. He was furious with the boy, but he’d stopped at beating him, bad as he’d wanted to. “You raise that belt again, you’d better be putting it away Hawke, or if you hit me or him again, I will end you. I swore no one would raise a hand to them, that included you. Why are you beating him?” he snarled. 

Behind him, he could hear Callus quietly sobbing. In front of him, Invictus froze, his face going from furious red to pale in an instant as the blood drained from his face. He lowered the belt slowly.

“Fenris,” he said in a hushed voice. “He... he raped Hal. I’d caught him after he’d whipped Arden with this belt, and I told him then that I’d discipline him - and then, when he told us he’d raped Hal... I saw red.”

“Hawke...why didn’t you get me? I’m ...much as he hates admitting it, I am his father. Did you not think discipline would fall to me?” Fenris had gone into a fighting stance on instinct, his gaze on the mage in front of him. “Well?”

Invictus dropped the belt and backed away. “Dammit, Fenris, you’d already checked out on me - and you didn’t see Hal earlier! He was like - _malum_ , he was like one of the Tranquil. I had to _order_ him to stop because he was dragging Anders with him and wouldn’t stop when Anders begged to be allowed a minute to say goodbye to me!” he exclaimed. “You were in no fit state to even talk to any of us about what was going on in your head! What was I supposed to do? Pat him on the head and say there there, Callus, you fucked up Hal - who doesn’t deserve any of this shit - but it’s OK because your Daddy’s too far gone to notice a thing so you go on your merry fucking way??” He glared at Fenris. “ _What the hell was I supposed to do??_ ”

“Not beat him within a half inch of his life, that’s what.” Fenris advanced on Invictus, his own temper flaring. “Maybe, just maybe punish him in ways that doesn’t mean he needs a healer, none of which we have on hand right now. Hal is almost as bad off as I was earlier, Anders can’t even take a deep breath, Pin is still in training and you have never been a decent healer. Maybe, see if I was in any better shape to discipline him, anything other than me finding out about your screaming match from Dorian as I barely can get myself together after a Void damned month of thing, after thing after thing happening!” He had cornered the brunet and was on the verge of pinning him down and beating him. 

“I’m sorry....” The broken whisper came from behind him. “Papa... I’m so sorry....”

“Quiet, I’ll take care of you when I’m done speaking with Invictus.” Fenris replied before turning back to his husband. “Let’s be clear Invictus Endrin Hawke, so that I don’t wind up putting you to an early grave. Either of them does something you feel needs discipline, or better yet. If you ever think of putting your hands on either of them again, I will kill you. I love you with all my heart, but you’ve crossed a line today. Now let me alone with my son.” Fenris backed away and went to Callus, anger flaring anew for how bad off the boy was. 

Invictus swallowed hard against the lump of cold fear in his throat, then slowly edged around both elves before slipping out of the woodshed to leave them alone.

Callus was slumped upon the floor, shivering and silent. As he felt his father’s shadow fall over him, he slowly looked up at him, fear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” he whispered. “You... were right.” He bowed his head.

“What was I right about?” Fenris asked as he knelt next to his child, unsure what to do for him. “I hope your sister can do something for you.” 

“You said... you _told_ me that... that Hal wasn’t capable of giving consent... that he just... I didn’t believe you! But I saw - when Dorian gave him orders, he - he just obeyed, and....” He closed his eyes as he sobbed. “I thought he wanted it! I truly thought he did! If I had thought he was just letting me do it because he couldn’t say no...”

He stared up at his father. “I don’t want Pin to heal me,” he said determinedly. “I want to feel this and know that this is what I brought on myself. I never meant to do that to Hal - but until he can come to me and actually _ask_ for it, I’ll never touch him again. I swear it, Father!”

“You’re not going to suffer as some damned martyr, there’s so few of us doing well that you can’t sit and wallow in pain. Besides, if _I_ didn’t beat your ass for what you’ve done, then Invictus sure as the Void doesn’t get to do it. Can you walk?” Fenris said.

Callus stared down at the dried blood on the floor. “He didn’t beat me half as hard as I beat Arden,” he whispered. “But I was afraid he was going to make an end of me the same way he did of him.”

He struggled to his feet, his head bowed. “I can walk,” he said tiredly.

Fenris glanced around the shed, letting his gaze drop to the dark blood stains then back to his son. He thought about what he’d said to him about Invictus...and Arden. He was still as he started putting the pieces together and he forced himself to not throw up as his stomach twisted. “Come on, Pin was terrified and I...really need to get out of here.” 

Callus glanced around at the walls, his gaze going back over and over to the tools spread out on the workbench - the ones he had been afraid had been used on Arden, that might be used on him next. He shuddered, then turned and walked out of the shed.

Fenris frowned and his gaze followed that of his son, wondering what Callus had been staring at. As his son pushed the door open and staggered out into the cool night air, Fenris found himself drawn to the workbench in spite of himself.

He knew he shouldn’t. But he looked anyway.

He recognised them, of course. He’d seen Invictus use them in the past, after all - had, once upon a time, handled many of them himself, assisting Invictus when they’d caught an apostate and Invictus needed to... _persuade_ them to say where others might have been found. He swallowed hard.

He made it three steps out of the woodshed before he threw up.

Fenris wiped his mouth and spit to get some of the bitter taste out of his mouth. “I quit, I fucking quit. I’m running away to the Anderfels first chance I get.” he muttered as he headed for where Zevran was still laid out. 

“Pin, go work on your brother, I’ve got Zevran.” he said as he gently scooped up the smaller elf and headed inside. Zevran groaned faintly and stirred as Fenris carried him.

“Vic... woodshed, must... must stop....” the Antivan groaned, incoherent and only half conscious as his eyelids fluttered.

“Already taken care of, I’m getting you back to bed and then I’m going to get a bottle of something and taking Callus with me to Skyhold.” Fenris said as he walked. 

“Skyhold?” murmured Zevran, then cried out as Fenris stumbled slightly on a stone in the dark garden. Fenris halted and stared down at Zevran who was now very faintly groaning, his eyelids fluttering.

“Zevran...how bad is your leg, don’t lie to me.” Fenris asked.

Zevran was silent for several heartbeats. Then, “Bad enough, _carissimi_ ,” he replied in a low voice. 

“Do I need to take you to Anders?” Fenris asked as they continued, more carefully until he was in the parlor. As he eased Zevran down into the chair, the Antivan clutched at his leg, teeth gritted. After a moment he sagged back into the chair.

“I felt it crack,” he groaned. “When I fell. Something gave.”

“Father?” said Pin quietly from the doorway. “Father, I’ve done all I can for Callus. He won’t scar - Invictus hadn’t done enough damage for that, thankfully.”

“Alright, afraid I need a little more help. Get potions and some blankets so I can put Zevran on one of the couches, then if you can make up the bed in his room, I’d appreciate it.” Fenris looked to his husband with worry. “Do I need to get Anders or take you to him? If your leg broke again, I can’t help you other than potions.” 

“Take me to Anders,” Zevran breathed. “Potions will do little for me now.”

“I’ll fetch Zevran’s things,” said Pin before turning to dash off to grab Zevran’s pack and his poisons belt.

“Thank you, tell Invictus and Callus I’ll be back tomorrow probably. Will you be alright or do you want to come with us?” Fenris asked before she dashed away.

She paused and glanced back at him. “You’d... leave Callus and I with Invictus? After what he did to Callus?” she breathed.

“I can’t take all of us, and I don’t want to ask him to open a portal.” Fenris paced around, and jumped when his ring vibrated. “Yes?” 

“ _Amicus_? Fenris, what’s happening?” Dorian’s tone was one of worry. “Is everyone alright? I’ve been trying to call you but there was no answer!”

Fenris blinked; he’d felt the ring vibrate on his hand several times but he’d been so consumed with fury for what Invictus had done that he’d paid it no mind.

“Yeah, I’m here. Can you open a portal in about five minutes? I need to bring Pin, Callus and if you can rouse Anders, I’m afraid Zevran is in need of help. If you can put several bottles of strong drink in my room, I’d appreciate it as well _amicus_ ,” Fenris said tiredly. 

“Yes - certainly, of course!” exclaimed Dorian. “The portal will open in five minutes in the sparring ring - unless you’d rather I opened it closer?”

“Closer, I need to carry Zevran and Callus isn’t doing well either. When we get there, can my old room can be set up for Pin and Callus please?” Fenris turned to give Pin some instructions before ending his call. “See you soon _amicus_.” 

“Callus is in the kitchen,” said Pin. “I’ll fetch Zevran’s things.” She dashed off down the hall towards the downstairs guest room.

“So... we will all be at Skyhold once more?” said Zevran into the sudden silence, his voice quiet. “Almost like old times.... Callus - did you reach him in time, _carissimi_? When I realised Invictus was intent on dragging him to the woodshed, I tried to stop him but I fell upon the uneven ground and I do not know what happened after that until I felt you carrying me.” 

“Sort of, Vic had done some damage but my son and I will be having a rather hard discussion once we are all settled again. I think he has learned his lesson and will be making amends as soon as Hal is able to hear him,” Fenris said quietly.

“Hal? There is something wrong with him?” said Zevran as he began to struggle to sit up again.

“He is acting near Tranquil again from what Dorian has told me, I think things have gotten to him, as they had to me. I...went away for a while,” Fenris admitted. 

Zevran groaned in dismay. “ _Carissimi_ , what has been happening to us all?” he sighed. 

“I don’t know, but I’ve felt more and more like we’re but toys for the gods lately. Dorian offered to let us move back to Skyhold but I do not know about that. There is Anders to consider and whether it will be good for us to return there. I admit, I can’t help but feel this place is cursed; made all the more real with Sebastian tracking us down after so long. No matter, you’re getting looked at, I’m getting so damn drunk I do not plan to wake until tomorrow night,” the elf said as he watched Callus limping into the living room, and flinching when he saw the older elves. 

“Father,” Callus said quietly. “Master Zevran.”

“Callus,” sighed Zevran. “I am sorry. I see you are limping. I was not able to protect you from Invictus.”

“No, Master Zevran - it’s not your place to protect me from my own foolishness. You knew what I’d done in any case.” Callus dropped his gaze to the floor.

“I did not _know_ ,” corrected Zevran quietly. “I simply told you that you had better not be saying what I thought you were, hmm?”

“Except.... except I was,” replied Callus dully. He glanced up at his father. “Papa, Pin says we’re going back to Skyhold?”

“For now yes. Zevran needs help, and Pin did not wish to stay after what Invictus had done. I’m tired, Zevran is in pain and frankly neither Hal nor Anders are doing much better. You’ll take my old room tonight and tomorrow we figure out getting you back to your old rooms if no one is in them,” Fenris said before turning at the sound of a portal opening in the hall. “Go ahead, I have to carry my husband.”

Pin joined them in the hall, Zevran’s pack over her shoulder and another bag in her arms. Dorian stood by the opened portal, which led directly into Anders’ room below the former Inquisitor’s suite.

“I thought it best to bring you as close to Anders as possible in the circumstances,” the magister explained.

“Of course, go on Pin, Callus.” Fenris shifted so he could keep from bumping Zevran’s leg. “I’m sorry love, forgive me,” he said softly.

Zevran was silent, his eyes closed as he rested his head upon Fenris’ shoulder. Pin and Callus went on through the portal as behind Dorian, Anders was getting to his feet and beckoning Fenris in, gesturing to his bed.

“You’d all leave me?” rasped Invictus’ voice behind Fenris.

The warrior elf caught himself before he cussed the brunet back to the Golden city. Instead he gently deposited Zevran on the bed and went back to the hallway. “Close the portal and don’t wait up for me,” he said to his _amicus_.

“Father?” said Pin anxiously. “No, Dorian, wait -!”

Her voice cut off as the portal winked out of existence with a faint pop of inrushing air.

Invictus was staring at Fenris. “You were just going to leave without telling me,” he said. “Weren’t you? Anders, Hal, already there - you were just coming for your kids and Zev, weren’t you?”

“Pin was scared to stay with you if I took Zevran to have his leg looked at. She heard you beating her brother mercilessly. She heard him screaming for mercy. If I had not come back, would he even be alive?” Fenris asked, his voice far too calm.

Invictus’ eyes widened in shock. “What - what are you saying?” he breathed.

“Did you lose your hearing with all the screaming that Callus was doing? My daughter was not comfortable staying here after you she heard you beating the snot out of her brother. Zevran re-broke his leg trying to crawl out there and stop you Invictus. That’s why I even needed to take him to see Anders, who’s probably too close to a heart attack that will kill him if anything else happens around here. Was I supposed to let Zevran suffer a moment longer to do you the courtesy to say I would be back in the morning?” Fenris snarled.

Invictus looked stricken with guilt as Fenris described Zevran’s injury. “I wouldn’t have killed Callus!” he blurted out. “I just... I didn’t even beat him as hard as he’d whipped Arden; I barely even broke his skin! Maker, I never meant for Zevran to be hurt!”

“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a slaver proud not to have damaged his goods. I thought you were past that Hawke, past the one who dragged mages back begging and pleading to be let go. Did you not think, at all what it would mean for a mage to beat a former slave? For what it would do to me for you to hurt my child, who I have had to beg and plead and work with for him to see me as anything other than a sire who cast him aside?” Fenris asked as he walked up to his husband. 

Invictus took a step back. “Maybe I was never past that,” said Invictus heavily. “After Arden... I wonder if I ever was at all.” He glanced aside. “Maybe you should go before I do it to others then. Pin. Hal.” He turned back, a dark look upon his face. “Anders. After all... we both thought about that once, didn’t we? Wouldn’t want to go back to that again, would we?”

“No, I won’t and I can’t. I’ve changed Vic. I am not going to leave you here to wallow, and do your bullshit poor me routine. Someone needs to be here to talk to the workers, and honestly do you want to scare anyone else? I will be back in the morning and we can talk, or you can do the very thing I told you back during our trip to Seheron that would push me away for good. Go to bed Vic, or do something but do not push me on this. I’m barely holding together as it is, and if you have any love for me? You’ll let it go till tomorrow,” Fenris said. 

Invictus stared at him for several long moments, then finally nodded. “Goodnight, Fenris,” he whispered.

“Goodnight Invictus, I love you; you’ve hurt me but I still love you,” Fenris said before lighting his brands and returning to Skyhold. 

**

They hadn’t been back to Skyhold in a year. The fortress was very different without the Inquisition in residence any longer; the halls were silent, no market outside, the chantry garden deserted and overgrown. Though Meneris received an income granted in perpetuity by decree of the Divine Herself, the fortress had no need of the great staff it had when it was the seat of power of the Inquisition. An elf and his magister husband had no great need of a full citadel of support staff, after all.

The Skyhold College of Magi was slowly thriving, but it was a very different place even compared to its time during the existence of the Inquisition. Then, it was the Inquisition that provided for their needs; but since the separation of the Colleges from the Circle system - and thus from the control of the Chantry - they had been devoid of funding from said Chantry, and thus the College was, perforce, required to devote a lot of time towards gainful employment for the mages. Surprisingly, a lot of that employment was in mercenary companies - of whom Krem’s Chargers were rapidly becoming the foremost employer. The Chargers were based out of Skyhold, having taken over the old garrison at Meneris’ invitation; at one stroke it removed the pressing issue of the lack of an armed military force to protect the fortress and its College, provided gainful employment for many such mages, and provided an excellent training grounds for new recruits. Such support staff as there were at Skyhold these days thus were provided in the main by Krem’s Chargers.

A large mercenary force required also an excellent medical provision - and the hospital staffed by the College’s healers thus became the other main source of employment for the mages as healers. Skyhold was rapidly becoming the foremost College for the teaching of battle and healing magic.

The central keep, however, was a quiet place. Much of what had originally been turned over to guest quarters for visiting nobles and dignitaries was now standing empty, as was the Rookery that once had been Zevran’s domain. The library was all but abandoned; that of the College Tower was far superior in every way. The kitchens were still a hive of activity at all hours of day and night - but now they provided for mercenaries and the new hospital - the vastly expanded and improved-upon infirmary. Steadily, more and more of the internal rooms of the keep were being converted to hospital wards, training rooms for the healers and physicians, potion-brewing laboratories and the like. The new medical library was growing month by month.

But the rooms that had belonged to Fenris, his children and Anders had remained empty, unused. 

They found themselves settling into a new routine in Skyhold fairly swiftly. Zevran’s leg, it transpired, had broken badly along the old break; Anders had been forced to set it and apply the barest touch of healing magic just to speed the work of healing before insisting on complete bed rest for Zevran for a few days to avoid further damage. Zevran was moved into his rooms so Anders could keep an eye on him.

Pin fairly soon abandoned her own room in favour of spending nearly all her time with Marian. Garrett spent a lot of time trying to coax out of Callus what had happened.

Hal kept to himself. From time to time, the others saw him walking the quiet, abandoned hallways, hands tucked inside the sleeves of his old robes, his eyes empty, like a forgotten ghost who hadn’t quite moved on when the Inquisition did. 

Fenris spent as much time alone as the others would let him, occasionally spending time in the ring with Krem or drinking with Dorian when Meneris was busy. There was still the issue Fenris had with Invictus, the beating he’d given Callus and how Pin wasn’t comfortable around him. He loved his husband, but he’d crossed a line, and scared him with his ability to slip back to such depravity. 

He’d found himself in front of Vic’s door after dinner, wine in hand almost as if he was courting the mage. With a deep breath to steel himself to talk over things before it got worse, the elf knocked. 

There was silence for a few minutes; Fenris began to wonder if perhaps the mage had left his room for the evening - or hadn’t returned from the Nevarra house yet. But finally he heard heavy footsteps and then the door opened.

“Fenris,” Invictus greeted him. He looked tired, his clothes dusty and smelling of sawdust.

“May I come in?” the elf asked. 

“Sure,” nodded the mage as he moved back and gestured for the elf to enter. “Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to change yet - I just arrived straight from the house. There’s sawdust everywhere at the moment, including in my food, I swear.”

“Hopefully they will be done soon and we can go home. I brought wine if you would like some,” Fenris offered as he watched Invictus wander to the back of the room so he could rinse off and change. 

“Maker, would I ever,” Invictus sighed as he dumped a bowl of water over his head to rinse the wood dust out of his hair before starting to dress in something that hadn’t been worn on a building site all day. “Dagna has been working on this new idea she had for - an underfloor heating system, I think she called it? I could only follow about half of what she was talking about - but it’s supposed to heat the house in winter. And they’re talking about building a proper apothecary area for Anders where he’ll have proper storage space for his herbs, a bench for brewing potions and a library area. I told them we’d be happy just to have a new staircase put in, the landing replaced and the kitchen wall made good but they weren’t having any of it.”

He strode back to take the glass of wine Fenris had poured for him. “Thanks, love,” he added.

“That’s nice to hear Vic, glad things are going well at home,” Fenris said as he poured himself a glass and paced between the windows and the small table. 

Invictus eyed him pacing and his expression became wary. “...what’s up, Fenris?” he finally asked quietly. “You’re not here to talk about the house, are you? Or just enjoy a glass of wine together.” He set his glass down. “Out with it. What am I in trouble for specifically? I know that look.”

The elf glanced at him, irritated that he was so easily read. “I am worried for the children, and how they will act around both of us. Wynne is still skittish around me; and both the teens are scared of you. Callus has become withdrawn, neither Garrett or I can get him to say more than a few words, or do more than take meals before he returns to his room and sulks. I would not have this continue once we can go home.” Fenris refilled his glass, unsure what they could do about things if he was honest with himself. 

“Has anyone had a chance to talk to Hal at all about what happened?” asked Invictus carefully.

“I plan to after we’re done talking, as I want Callus to speak to him as well; if Hal will talk with him. Seems they both have been avoiding everyone, or spending time to themselves which isn’t healthy if Callus takes after me at all.” The elven fighter glanced up at him, curious about what they were going to do. 

“Where does that leave us, Vic? My kids are scared of you, Ellowynne has been bursting into tears seeing me, looking like she’s torn between running away and running to me for a hug. Honestly, I wanted to just leave last week, I wanted to pick up and go to the Anderfels or the farthest corner of Tevinter near the Anderfels border and hide. Zevran damn near crippled himself and you’re working yourself to sleep almost every night. What do we do?” 

Invictus dropped heavily down into a chair and reached for his glass of wine. “You asked me this a week ago, and I’m no closer to an answer then than I am now,” he sighed. “I’m not surprised Wynne feels tearful - if she hadn’t gotten mad at you then we wouldn’t nearly have lost the house and me, her father, Callus and Hal in it. Must have been the poor kid’s worst nightmare, watching her father run into a burning house like that.” He shook his head slowly. “And Anders was pretty damn ill after. I would have been mad at him myself for following after me if I hadn’t been so bloody worried for him. Hal spacing out so soon after... poor kid probably thinks that’s her fault too, I shouldn’t wonder. Probably best to leaver her to Anders.” 

He shrugged, sipped his wine then set it down again. “As for Callus and Pin... I’m not sure there’s much I _can_ do, Fen. I can hardly apologise if they won’t come near me, after all. I feel guilty as hell about Zevran, too. About all I _can_ do is work on fixing the house so we all have a roof over our heads - assuming any of you ever want to leave Skyhold again,” he added.

“It’s not that I don’t want to leave, I can’t speak for the kids. Honestly, I don’t know if Callus will ever want to be around Hal again, or me for that matter. I threatened him, and told him to get away from me before things went to the Void, again. Why don’t we try talking, as a family if that’s what we’re supposed to be Vicky?” Fenris asked.

Invictus winced at the nickname. “OK, I get it - I know, you hate being called ‘Fen’,” he sighed. “Maker. I think Anders is the only one you’ve ever allowed to get away with that.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “And I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Anders or Zevran.” He glanced at Fenris. “How are they - apart from Zevran being nearly crippled again? Last I had a chance to see him, he wasn’t very talkative and hiding in Anders’ rooms. The hospital here is supposed to be pretty good - would they not be able to help?”

“He’s sullen and a joy to be around as you can expect with him on forced bed rest to let his leg heal.” Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to center himself. “I don’t call you Vicky as a way to get back at you, it is said with affection Vic but if you dislike it, I will stop.” the elven warrior began to pace again. “We’re too fractured and something needs to change, before we all hate each other or split up between here and Skyhold just to remain as husbands but with so much distance between us. I’m scared Vic, everyone of you means so much to me and I feel like we’re going to pieces.” 

“The kids - well, your two - they’re not really kids anymore. Maker, at their age I’d been man of the house for a couple of years. And by their age Carver had signed up and was on his way to Ostagar,” said Invictus thoughtfully. “Sooner or later they’d have been thinking of going their own way. Pin spends more time with Marian than she did with us before this in any case; and Hal was only staying really because with Arden dead and his Anders... not really Anders anymore... you’re all he had left. But he’s still young. Not like us old farts - Void, Anders is old enough to be his father!”

Invictus broke off. “Which... I guess is why Anders has never been more than friendly towards Hal? I suppose it would have been too weird for him. He made it quite clear that whilst he was... sort of OK with Zev and I playing with you two, he’s not got any interest in being a part of that.”

“That doesn’t mean I want my children afraid of you Invictus,” Fenris said quickly, not liking the reminder they weren’t getting younger. “I want them to feel safe visiting or living there.”

Invictus nodded gloomily. “I know. I’m not sure what I can do or say to reassure them. All I can do is just... try to prove to them by my actions that they don’t have anything to fear from me but it’s kind of hard to do that if they won’t come near me.” He stared at his glass of wine silently for a minute, then went on, quieter, “And you still haven’t mentioned Anders.”

“Then we talk, over dinner tomorrow night. I’m tired of dancing around things Vic.” Fenris finished off his wine and stared up at the ceiling as he pondered what to say. “He can still scare me Vic, not the way I would cower before like when you lost your temper but it still gets to me. He and I had a fight over Callus, when he reminded me that others thought I had taken advantage of Hal back in the desert. I didn’t listen and I flew off the handle at him, and ran up to pack a bag, intending on coming here. Ironically, its what made Ellowynne angry with me, when she saw her father had been crying and he asked if my staying was a lie as well. None of us have told him about the demon out of fear it will kill him. So we’re all keeping secrets and lies Vic, and it needs to stop; aside from that one.”

“There’s no two ways about it - that _would_ kill him,” nodded Invictus. “Alright. Tomorrow, then. And... Hal?”

“I’m going to look for him now, and hope to Mythal he’ll talk to me, and because I like pain; I’m planning on seeing Callus before I call it a night. If he doesn’t just curl into a miserable little ball and refuse to speak. Goodnight Vic, see you when you’re back tomorrow.” Fenris approached and leaned in to kiss him, but waited for the mage to close the gap. 

Invictus looked up at him sadly then leaned up to kiss him. “I miss you, Fenris,” he said quietly. “I miss all of you - but you and Anders the most.”

“Maybe after I talk to Callus, I could come back to you? If you ...if its ok? I do miss you, but my heart is fragile lately.” the elf leaned in to kiss his mage again before pulling away.

“Not as fragile as Anders’, I hope?” Invictus tried to joke, then dropped his glance to the floor. “I’m sorry. Yes... I’d really like to see you then.” 

“Ok, I’ll try not to be too long.” Fenris gave him a last kiss before heading off in search of Hal. 

**

He’d hunted everywhere but found no sign of Hal; eventually he decided to head to the old rotunda in hopes perhaps he might have retreated there. Even before he reached the library however, he began to wonder if this was a fool’s chase. The air smelled damp, and the bookshelves were empty apart from a few forgotten, mouldering volumes.

He glanced upwards, then halted. There were gaps in the ceiling that went clean up to the rafters in the roof of the tower - in which he could see more gaps, the stars twinkling distantly beyond. yet strangely, he thought he heard the whirring of a pair of wings; and then he heard Callus’ voice. He couldn’t make out the words, but Fenris found himself heading for the stairs up to the ruins of the Rookery at a run.

The vast space was empty, huge gaps in the floor with only slender rafters bridging the gap. Yet perched upon one of the rafters, as easily as Zevran himself might have done once, was his son Callus.

He was talking to a figure hunched upon the remains of the balcony. A white crow was circling overhead; as Fenris watched, the bird fluttered down to the outstretched hand of the hunched figure and began pecking at something in the figure’s hand.

Fenris looked around, unsure if he should bother them now that they were talking but he wasn’t going to risk startling them. “May I come up?” he called. 

Callus fell silent, and then turned, his eyes luminous green in the dark.

“Hello, Father,” he called after a moment. “Watch your step. Some of the rafters are rotten.” He turned back to the figure on the balcony and murmured something; in the moonlight, Fenris saw the figure shrug before gently cradling the crow to its chest.

“I can Fade Step to you,” Fenris said even as he passed from the ground floor to the a spot near them. “Callus, Hal,” he greeted them quietly so not to startle the redhead. 

The redhead lifted his head and peered at Fenris. He was cuddling the white crow and feeding her from his hand. Fenris couldn’t have said just how he knew the bird was female - but long familiarity with Zevran’s birds meant he was picking up a pretty good feel for such things. The crow looked a little bedraggled, as though she’d flown a long way.

“May I talk with you both, please?” the elf asked as he approached the edge of the balcony and sat, back to the wall.

Hal glanced at him, then at Callus.

Callus shrugged. “I only just found Hal myself, about half an hour ago. He hasn’t spoken yet, but at least he hasn’t run away from me this time.” He shot Hal a sad look.

“Like you’ve done to me?” Fenris shot back before looking to the red head. “Hal, will you come over here? You can bring the bird if you want, I won’t do anything you don’t want if you’ll listen and answer maybe?” 

Hal regarded him warily, not moving.

“I think maybe you need to go to him, Father,” said Callus quietly. He’d shot Fenris a sharp look at his words but his eyes were on Hal as he spoke. “I’ve been... trying to apologise.”

“Good, glad to hear that. I would like to speak to both of you if you’ll hear me out.” The elf stared at Hal, then glanced at his son. “Please?” 

Callus glanced to Hal, who had bowed his head and was gently stroking the crow.

“Go ahead,” Callus replied.

“I want us to all talk tomorrow, but I wanted to try and work things out with you both tonight. I’m...afraid of what is happening, how we’re all fracturing. I am glad that you’re trying to talk to Hal. But I know you’ve been avoiding most of us, and I owe you my own apology for hiding away from both of you,” Fenris said.

“Callus... ran from me,” said Hal, his voice a hoarse rasp as though he had grown unused to speaking. Callus gave him a guilty look of apology.

“So I see; what did you do when he ran?” the older elf asked as he kept focused on Hal. 

Hal’s face crumpled and he buried it in his hands as he began to weep softly.

“Dumat - no, don’t cry, please!” exclaimed Callus. “I didn’t want to make you cry - I hurt you, I - I raped you! How could you bear to be around me?”

Hal lifted his head, eyes wide in shock. “...what?” he whispered.

“I ra-”

“No!” exclaimed Hal, shaking his head wildly. He looked at Fenris, then back at Callus. “No, no, you - I wanted that! I _wanted it!!_ ” he cried. “I said - I gave my consent, I said I wanted you to do it again, I _liked_ it!”

Callus stared back at him, his own eyes wide as he swallowed hard. “You - you did?”

“Maker, yes, why would I say we could do it again if I didn’t want it?” cried Hal.

“But -” Callus’ eyes went to Fenris.

The older elf glanced at Hal, “Callus told me you also said do whatever you want with me, that’s not usually taken as an enthusiastic yes,” Fenris said, perplexed and worried. 

Hal gave a small, choking sob. “It was a _yes_ ,” he protested as he slid his hands into his dark red hair then tugged at it in distress. The white crow hopped up onto his shoulder and tweaked a lock of his hair with a quiet croak. “I... I wasn’t even aware of what I was saying, but I know it was a yes!”

“You... wanted it? Wanted... me?” asked Callus softly.

“You left me!” sobbed Hal. “Both of you - you turned away from me and left me! And Zevran is hurt and Invictus gone and Pin’s with Marian and Anders is hiding and _you both left me!!_ ” He was wide eyed and panting in his distress, the moonlight shining on the tears rolling down his face. Then he buried his face in his hands and wept, as the crow tried to distract him.

Fenris looked at his son then to Hal. “I’m sorry Hal, I’m so sorry. I...you said you wanted space before in Rivain. When we came back, everything went to hell, and then I needed to be alone for a while. I’m sorry.” 

Callus looked guilt-stricken. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to hurt you further! But after Invictus -” He broke off as he suddenly realised what he was about to blurt, even as Hal glanced at him, uncomprehending.

“After Invictus what?” he asked, still scrubbing at his eyes with his hands.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” said Callus hastily. “I didn’t want to hurt you any further. I - I thought, after the way you just... zoned out... maybe you needed time to yourself. The fire was pretty damned scary, and you used a lot of mana putting out the fire. I just thought... you needed... rest.”

Hal lowered his hands and glanced between them both. “I’ve lost far too many I loved, Arden the most recently. When I thought you were both rejecting me, I... it hurt. More than you could imagine. And then being back here - but it’s so different, the halls around here are so deserted, I... it was like being a ghost. I’m not sure what’s real anymore; it’s like I’m dreaming, and it’s all a horrible nightmare. Sometimes I feel as if I’ll turn a corner and find myself back in Skyhold as it was, before any of us went to Val Royeaux, and it’s all just been a horrible dream.” he bowed his head and started weeping softly again. “Please, let it all just be a horrible dream,” he whispered.

“I’m not rejecting you, I thought...I thought Callus had taken advantage when you were already in a bad place. I owe you both an apology then, I’m sorry.” the older elf dropped his gaze to the ground briefly, then back to the younger elf waiting for Callus to explode at him.

Callus turned and stared at him. His hands clenched into fists and Fenris could see his eyes darkening in anger - but then with a visible effort, Callus looked away from him to Hal and drew a deep breath before exhaling slowly, clearly forcing himself to give the appearance of being relaxed. “I didn’t understand,” said Callus. “I thought I’d transgressed against you. What can I do to put it right? You should come down from this tower - it’s falling apart and unsafe. Come down to where it’s warm and dry.”

“I can’t,” murmured Hal as he turned to the white crow, who rubbed her head against his cheek. “She’s... lost, you see? I think she’s one of the Divine’s birds. I guess she must have come here so often when Zevran was spymaster, and now she keeps finding her way back here, starving. I’ve been feeding her. She went away, but then she came back. If I leave, who will feed her?”

He glanced to Fenris. “I know she’s not my Anders,” he said softly. “But... she needs me, and....”

“And she comforts you,” nodded Callus. “Do you think she’d come with you? Stay on your shoulder?” 

“I bet she would, especially if you’re feeding her. Try getting her to hop up and then coming over here?” Fenris asked, careful not to look at his son again. 

Hal eyed the rickety planks of the balcony warily, then slowly got to his feet and started to carefully pick his way across. Callus rose to his feet as Hal flung his arms out for balance, the crow perched on his shoulder and cawing in alarm; the elven youth caught one hand even as Fenris caught the other. They exchanged a brief glance before guiding Hal’s faltering footsteps onto firmer ground.

“Hal, how did you even get over here in the first place?” asked Callus, wonderingly.

“Crawled from rafter to rafter, mostly,” gulped Hal. “I... didn’t really think about it.”

Fenris looked down at the floor, unsure if he wanted to risk it, and back to them. “Think you can make it down, or should I take us?” 

Hal made the mistake of looking directly down past the rafter he was balanced upon, and blanched as he stared down into the darkness below, unable to see the floor of the rotunda several stories below. He wobbled alarmingly, and Callus swore as he tried to help Hal keep his balance without being pulled off balance himself.

“That answered that, come here both of you.” Fenris managed to gather them closer to teleport safely down to the main floor, letting Hal go so Callus could take care of him. “I have to talk with Invictus, let him know of our mistake. Maybe you should let Anders and Zevran see you? They’ve been cooped up in that room and are both feeling locked in.” 

“Wait - Invictus?” said Hal groggily before suddenly looking rather green.

“ _Malum_ , Father, that trick of yours always does a number on people,” groaned Callus as he gently supported the redhead. He glanced back at his father. “Tell dear _papa Vic_ that I look forward to his apology,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm before he turned back to Hal.

“Of course son. I’ll see you later, and I would like us all to have dinner tomorrow, in the suite around the sixth bell, please.” Fenris said quietly as he watched them walking off. 

He teleported directly to his room so he wouldn’t have to see anyone, frowning as he pondered Hal’s little revelation and what this could mean for their family. All he could see was complications after complications, one on top of another. But for all his pondering, all he was doing was putting off the moment he returned to Invictus to tell him the truth - they had both gotten things very, very wrong.

He selected a bottle of wine and then drew a deep breath before setting off for Invictus’ room.

His husband opened the door upon the first knock, as though he’d been waiting almost anxiously for him.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, may I enter?” Fenris said, trying to sound happier than he felt as he walked past Invictus and straight to the cabinet for glasses. He poured the wine, noticing a slight tremor to his hand as he nearly missed the second glass. 

“Are you alright, love?” asked Invictus as he took his glass. “Did you manage to find your son and Hal?”

“Yes, I found them.” Fenris said before downing half in one go. “We made a huge mistake, such a huge fucking mistake.” he said as he sat and covered his face. “Ha...Hal, he …”

Invictus felt dread curl in his guts as his heart dropped. “What?” he asked, quietly, knowing he really didn’t want to know, in truth.

“We were so wrong, Mythal, we fucked up bad Vic,” Fenris whispered. 

Invictus set the glass down so he wouldn’t drop it. He had a horrible feeling he knew what the answer would be even as he spoke. “How did we fuck up with Hal, Fenris?” he asked carefully. “You’re not speaking in complete sentences, love. What’s happened to Hal?”

“Nothing happened, its what we assumed happened, or didn’t.” Fenris took another sip of wine before going on. “I..I found them together, and was there when Hal said he...he had given consent, that he’d wanted Callus. He even ...said he wanted Cal again. We all assumed, we were wrong.” 

Invictus felt the blood draining from his face. Distantly he heard himself asking, “Where is your son now?”

“With Hal, probably visiting with Anders and Zevran, or talking things out. He was angry, so angry at us. He held back to keep from upsetting Hal, but I know he’s going to lash out the moment he has me alone and I deserve it,” Fenris said brokenly. 

“No,” said Invictus quietly, his voice sounding hollow even to himself. “No, the only one he should lash out at is me. And rightfully so.”

“Vic you don’t understand. I was waiting on him, the moment he came out of Hal’s room, I let him have it. We both deserve it, and how will it look if I say nothing to you about beating him? We were all wrong, and you moreso for laying hands on him. That...hurt me as well, but fuck what do we do?” the elven warrior asked.

“I’ll speak to him,” said Invictus, his voice distant. “It’s... only fair to let him know that... that I regret it, that I was wrong, to... to let him respond. Whatever form that response takes.”

“I shall do the same, we just can’t let Anders know or Hal it will break their hearts to see us fighting again.” Fenris went to the bed and sat there, shaken. 

They both jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. Before either man could move, the door was flung open and Callus walked in.

He paused in the doorway, his gaze going first to his sire before he turned to Invictus. He closed the door silently behind him, and there was the quiet click of the key in the lock. Then Callus began to stalk slowly towards Invictus, his gaze dark and predatory.

Invictus took an involuntary step back before checking himself and standing firm, determined to face what was coming. “Callus,” he greeted the youth quietly.

“Invictus,” replied Callus, and Invictus was struck by how little the young man resembled his father - but how much he put the mage in mind of Zevran. Callus bore no weapons but the threat and menace radiating from his form was palpable.

“Callus…” Fenris said from where he’d gotten in front of his son, hoping to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. “Take this out on me, I will take whatever you want to do to him, I fucked up.” 

“Father,” said Callus quietly, “Get out of my way. I will deal with you in a minute. You’re not the one who lifted your hand to me.” He met Fenris’ gaze for one heartbeat, then his gaze slid away to transfix Invictus. “I believe you have something to say to me, Invictus Endrin Hawke.”

Fenris felt Invictus’ hand on his side nudging him over, as he went back to the bed and watched. 

“I owe you an apology Callus, we all do but me more than anyone else. I felt protective towards Hal and I thought you had...I thought you had hurt him, used him and I lost myself. It was the final straw on a day that had already pushed me beyond my limit and I snapped. I apologize for every blow, every word I said in fury. I will take whatever you wish in payment for my transgression against you.” Invictus wanted to look down, to not see the baleful look in the youth’s gaze but he kept eye contact, ready to get as much as he gave. 

“It is very fortunate that my sister has learned so much from such a talented teacher,” said Callus, his voice low and tight. “She says the marks will not scar. Which is fortunate, because otherwise I might have to wonder what Hal might say were he to see such marks.” He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “But you were wrong. It was not merely myself you hurt - because of you, _my_ teacher is now hurt - and may very well be crippled. My sister is terrified of you - she thought you would kill me. But worst of all....” He shoved Invictus hard, and the larger man fell heavily down into the chair behind him as Callus loomed over him, leaning against the hand rests as he stared down into Invictus’ eyes. 

“You hurt Hal. He thought I had abandoned him. When I turned away from him because I was afraid to hurt him further, _that. Hurt. **Him.**_ And I would never have done that if not for you and my father.” He leaned closer until Invictus could feel his breath upon his face. “What are your apologies worth in the face of what you have done to him, Invictus Endrin Hawke? How will I take _that_ price out of your hide?”

“I don’t know Callus, would beating me in turn soothe your anger? Will me apologizing, prostrated before them satisfy you? What will do so? I know I have done so, so very wrong against all of you. What do you wish to do to hurt me in return?” Invictus asked, not daring to look over when heard Fenris’ soft plea to his son to stop. 

Callus smiled unpleasantly. “Oh, that would be so easy,” he purred softly. “To whip you as you whipped me. Blow for blow, cut for cut. And maybe that might satisfy my thirst for revenge - but if it didn’t work with Arden, what makes you think it would work with your blood? You ask for a punishment that will hurt my father as much as it does you. How do you think my sire would feel, to see his own son whipping his husband, Hawke? Is that what you want? To face Fenris, and know that every stripe I lay on your flesh, he may as well feel upon his own for seeing it on your face?”

He shoved the chair hard, and Invictus felt it slide several feet as Callus straightened and turned on his heel to point at his father next. “And you!” he hissed. “So fast to jump to conclusions. You lifted your hand and though you never struck me, you wanted to - I could see it in your eyes! You are the author of your own misfortunes as much as mine - you were so _fucking_ jealous that you couldn’t wait to leap to conclusions without even asking Hal, you hurt Anders by making him think you were going to leave, and then you fucking _checked out like a coward_ because you couldn’t face the consequences of your own fucking actions!”

He glared at Fenris. “Come on. I’m waiting. I’m dying to hear your explanation, Father.”

Fenris had flinched at Cal’s words and was quiet as he spoke, fearful of the boy in his rage. He looked up at him, forcing himself to look the younger elf in the eye. “I...wasn’t jealous. I thought you’d hurt Hal, used him when he was vulnerable. I said I’d wanted to hit you, but I didn’t, I kept my promise never to raise a hand to you or Pin.” He wiped tears away as he struggled with his temper.

“I wanted to leave, just for a few hours to get my head together but...we saw what happened with that, I wasn’t leaving for good much as I wanted to in that moment. Anders reminded me of when people thought I was doing the same and we fought, I just wanted to go for a little while. You’re wrong about me checking out because I’m a coward, that because I had just hit my limit and it ...just happened. I can’t make myself do that, why would I? Please Callus, I know you’re angry and you probably hate us both but please let me make this up to you, somehow?” Fenris begged, finally dropping his gaze.

Callus turned his back on them both. 

After several long minutes in which no-one spoke, Callus finally spoke quietly. “Bad enough that you both hurt me - Father, with your words, and Invictus, with that damned belt. I could probably handle that if I didn’t know that what Hal is going through right now is so very much worse. Maybe no-one whipped him - but no-one had to. He’s already hurting so bad inside, and Dumat but I regret my own part in that - but that’s for me to deal with. i’ve not heard a word from either of you as to how you think you can ever apologise for what you’ve done to _him_.”

He turned and stared at Invictus. “You killed his lover. And I think he knows. And I think he blames himself.”

“If Hal will talk to me, I’ll go to him. As I told Fenris, it's hard to talk when someone won’t even stay where you are. Do you want that Callus, for me to speak with Hal and let him know I beat you because we all assumed you had used him? Or should I go apologize and see what he will say to me? I can’t give you something when you don’t give me a chance to get a word in Cal. I will do whatever it takes, do you get that?” Invictus said as he stood to go to Fenris, worried for how the warrior looked close to checking out again. 

For his part, Fenris was trying not to give in to the urge to flee or let his own anger rise up to match Callus’ as he had no right to be angry. They had wronged him, and Anders, Zevran along with Hal. He felt himself trembling, close to that blank space again just to have things stop for a while. 

Callus glared at Invictus then slowly shook his head in disgust. “You know full well that if you tell him you beat me because you thought I’d raped him, that will only hurt him worse. What good would it do to torture him further? I already told you - Pin says I won’t scar. That particular insult of yours against me is nothing he needs to know. How about you start by acknowledging his pain - not to me, but to _him_? Apologise for killing the one person he had left from his own world. I’m not asking anything for myself but for _him_.”

He glanced to the elf. “And I suggest you have your own apologies to make too, Father,” he said quietly. “Dumat, if it wouldn’t hurt Hal worse, I would take him far away from you both until you learn to treat him the way he deserves instead of continually hurting him. But not only would it hurt Hal, it would also hurt Anders, because I think he cares for Hal like a son and I know he’d worry. And so would Zevran. But Void take you both if you deserve his love - and I swear, if ever you hurt him again, then you may be my father Fenris but I will fucking end you.” His voice was trembling.

The warrior buried his face in his hands at Callus’ threat, unable to speak. Soon, he was crying openly, before he knelt before the boy and begged forgiveness. “What..whatever you say, I’ll do it to fix this Cal. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he said brokenly.

Callus backed away. “Stop crying,” he said hoarsely as he curled his hands into fists clenched at his side. “Stop _fucking crying!!_ You have _no right_ to cry!” He glared at the elf, his own eyes red and bright with unshed tears. “It’s Hal you should be begging for forgiveness from, not me! _Stop. Fucking. CRYING!!_ ” He moved back until he felt the door behind himself. “I wish you’d left me in Tevinter!” he breathed, and then he turned to scrabble at the door with the key, breath bursting from him a sob until he managed to get the key in the lock and twist it to escape, fleeing away into the dark, shadowy halls of Skyhold.

Fenris had fallen silent at his son’s harsh words, staring at the door, unblinking. “He’s right, he’s right.” he muttered before dragging himself to his feet and walking to the door, focused only on getting to Hal and apologizing before he went utterly to pieces. He stumbled as he came to what he hoped was the younger mage’s door before knocking. “Hal, are you here?” 

He heard the sounds of feet shuffling on a carpet, and then the door opened slowly. Hal blinked up at him. “Fenris?”

“May I come in please?” the elf asked as he looked away from Hal, at a loss now that he was there. 

Hal lowered his gaze a moment, then slowly nodded as he retreated back into the room again.

It had originally been Ellowynne’s room; the bed was a little on the small side for an adult, draped with pale pink organza. The white crow was perched on the top of one of the tall posts, watching curiously, as Hal moved back to sit upon the bed. There was a small white table drawn up beside the bed on which was laid the remains of a light meal; there was a half full glass of white wine resting beside the plate.

Hal looked up at him with a curious expression. “You’ve been crying,” he said quietly.

“With good reason, and …” the elf was cut off by another knock at the door, and Invictus’ voice coming through.

“Hal, Fenris? Are you in here?” he sounded a little winded like he’d run full tilt to catch up with his husband. 

Hal glanced at the door in mild surprise. “First everyone hides from me, now everyone wants me,” he murmured before gesturing to the door, which swung open with a quiet click. “Hello, Invictus,” he greeted the mage. “You look upset too. Has everyone been crying tonight?” He turned back to his glass of wine. “I have a terrible headache. Crying that hard always does it to me. I have elfroot if you two need it too.” His voice held a slightly dreamy quality, as though he were half asleep.

“A little yeah. Look we three need to talk, and I’d love it if I could get us a little more comfortable in my room. I’ve got good wine and I think Fenris needs something before he kind of falls apart. Please come with us?” Vic asked as he tried to get Fenris into his grip so the elf wouldn’t run or just fall down. 

Hal blinked at him then set his glass down. “Oh. Alright. If you like,” he replied slowly as he got to his feet then moved to a chest; opening it, he pulled out a dusty black over-robe which he draped around himself. “Can I bring my crow?”

The white crow cawed loudly at Invictus before swooping down to Hal’s shoulder. “She’s not really my crow,” Hal went on. “She belongs to Leliana. But she got lost, so we sort of found each other and now I suppose she’s not Leliana’s anymore.” He giggled a little. “Do you think you can be arrested for stealing one of the Divine’s white crows?”

“Of course you can bring her, and anything else you like Hal.” Vic said as he got an arm around Fenris, concerned for the way the elf was looking. 

The warrior didn’t argue or even try to push away, he went where he was led until they got to Invictus’ room once more and sat on the bed, staring at nothing. 

Hal glanced around with vague curiosity. “I don’t think I ever really visited your room much, Invictus,” he remarked as he walked around slowly. “I spent most of my time in Fenris’ room. Well, when I wasn’t in the infirmary, or Anders’ room. I wasn’t too fond of my own room. It was very lonely in there.”

“You’re always welcome to visit Hal, assuming you want to after we’re done talking. May I get you some wine first?” Vic asked.

“Alright,” replied Hal. He walked over to the nearest chair and sat down, lifting a hand to stroke the white crow on his shoulder. “Don’t you feel it a bit lonely, your room being all the way over here in the abandoned part of the Keep?”

“Sometimes, but its also nice to have a little quiet after being around the workmen all day at the house.” Vic said as he took a seat opposite Hal and even took one of the younger mage’s hands. “I have something to talk about and its not pleasant - nothing you’ve done; you’re not in trouble. I’ve been ...I’ve hurt you Hal and I want to apologize, see if I can make amends or if you’ll hate me as well.” 

Hal glanced down at his hand in that of Invictus, though he made no effort to take his hand back. “Am I going to regret not having a chance to finish my bottle of wine first?” he whispered.

“Probably, I’m just glad you have good control over your power and maybe won’t try to fry me when I’m done talking.” Vic tried to be light but had a sense it wasn’t going to help. 

Hal’s brief smile was slightly queasy-looking. “They rather beat control into me in the Gallows,” he whispered. “I... don’t do that anymore. It was usually spirit bolts, when I was a child.”

“It was ice or fire for me, got me plenty of spankings for it.” Vic glanced up the mage and tried to be honest yet not so blunt he traumatized him. “Hal, I owe you a few apologies. I got very upset with Callus, and...made things pretty bad, like Fenris did when we both thought he had used you. For that I apologize for thinking we knew better than you regarding who you sleep with. Anything I can do to make up for that, I will happily do for you; just say the word.” Vic paused, not wanting to discuss the rest of it. 

Hal was still staring at his hand in Invictus’ grasp. “You weren’t to know,” he said tonelessly. “You never actually asked, after all.”

“That’s my second apology, we assumed and didn’t ask you. We just...we thought knew better than you and we fucked up. I know next time to ask or keep my fucking mouth shut, after all you’re an adult,” Vic said as he rubbed a thumb over the back of Hal’s hand. 

Hal actually looked up at that and met Invictus’ gaze with a faint look of startlement. “Yes,” he said, nodding slightly. “I am. Though it often seems people forget that. Here in Skyhold, I held full responsibility in the infirmary under Anders, including over men and women twice my age. Yet people still treat me as though I have no agency of my own, no right to decide my life for myself.”

“I know Hal, like I said we forgot and took that from you. I’m so sorry, I’ll do my best not to let it happen again and if I do? Feel free to remind me of this so I can just shut up.” Vic said softly as he braced himself for the worst part of his apology and confession. 

Hal lowered his gaze and nodded. “There was... something more... wasn’t there? That you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid of how you will react. I honestly don’t want to upset you any more Hal, but… I must make amends.” 

Hal went still, though Invictus could feel a faint tremor in his hand. The white crow shifted nervously on his shoulder and croaked what sounded like a soft query before leaning over to tweak a lock of his hair.

“I...hurt Arden after you gave me the key to the room. There’s a reason I’ve kept you out of the woodshed, because I never wanted you to see what I’d done, the traces of it. You keep blaming yourself, and its not fair. Yell, scream, throw lightning at me or tell me how much you hate me for my part in Arden’s death but it was not your fault, and I can’t let you keep blaming yourself for it. I am so, so sorry Hal, I beg your forgiveness, if you will ever find it in your heart to do so. Anything you wish, anything to make amends, if that’s possible is yours.” Invictus looked him in the eye, afraid of the younger man’s reaction.

“I gave you the key,” whispered Hal. “I told you to do what you must. I never knew you could cause so much pain to someone like that - you, you never seemed....” He fell silent, then shook his head. “No. Yours may have been the hand lifted, but I was the one who told you - who - who gave you permission. Maker, that permission was never mine to give.” He closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. “It’s my fault Arden is dead. I only wish I could have suffered twice that pain if it would bring him back.”

“No, stop that! I could have left him alone till the next day when he had come back to himself. I didn’t have to take the key. But I saw what it had done to Fenris and I saw red, I just lost control. Something I have been doing a lot lately. Please let me take this, you’ve had too much happen to you. Please Hal?” Vic asked, then dared a glance to the bed where Fenris had curled on his side, and seemed to be either asleep or avoiding looking at them before looking at Hal again. 

“You don’t understand,” Hal shook his head as he glanced up at Invictus again with a sad smile. “What Arden did to Zevran... that was my fault-”

“It was all our fault, except Anders. We all did that and though we had an amazing time, we all broke their trust. Anders was hurt, you were hurt, and so was Arden. If he wasn’t already bad off after Sebastian, I don’t think he would have lashed out so badly. Please Hal, we fucked up and hurt you really badly, let me make it up to you please?” Vic asked again. 

Hal pulled his hand away as he hunched in upon himself, closing his eyes as he bit his lip. “I could really, really use that glass of wine you promised,” he whispered.

“Of course!” Vic poured almost to the rim and handed it to him. “Please Hal, if you don’t want to talk anymore I understand but I was...compelled to do this while we were away from the Void that had become our house. I’m sorry I upset you further.” 

Hal cradled the class in both hands before drinking deeply, pausing only for breath when more than two-thirds of the glass were gone. He finally looked at Fenris.

“You told him then,” he said quietly.

“Told him what?” Vic asked. 

“I cannot imagine that the timing of this talk comes so soon after Fenris and Callus finally came to me as I was up in the Rookery,” said Hal, still staring at Fenris. “You told him that we spoke and I told you I’d consented to all that Callus had done.” He smiled sadly. “What had you three told yourselves and each other? Were you all so convinced I’m incapable of deciding for myself? If that were true, then what does that make of any of you? Or Zevran? Abusers all, save Anders and Pin? Have I never had free will?” He turned back to Invictus. “Is that truly what you all believed?”

The elf remained motionless, the only indication he’d heard was a low, choked sob before he curled up even closer. 

Invictus considered how to tell Hal why he’d come to him, without implicating Callus’ rage at them, and hoped he was right. “True, he did come to me and we spoke because he felt terrible about wronging you. Thing is, Callus also had things to say to us and I figured no time like the present, and his running to you helped make the decision to speak tonight for us. Not sure what else we can do Hal, I offer any apology you wish, and once Fenris comes...back to himself he will as well.”

Hal stared into his glass then downed it swiftly before staring into the empty glass.

“What do you want of me, Invictus?” he asked in a small voice. “Are you asking my forgiveness?” 

“If you can find it in you to do so? Yes, I would have it. Otherwise, if I can do anything to make it up to you, to pay for the hurt I brought by my stupidity, tell me now, or a month from now and its yours Hal. I just wanted to clear the air and make it right if I could.” Invictus said before refilling his own glass. 

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do to put it right,” replied Hal as he held the glass out, mutely requesting more wine. “You can’t bring the dead back to life, or free a mortal man from the spirit of a Goddess.”

“I meant with you Hal, can I do anything to make amends to you?” Vic said as he poured wine for both of them. 

Hal giggled a little hopelessly. “I wished you’d asked me that before this whole talk,” he gasped before taking a sip. “‘Hello Hal, you might be feeling a bit raw and exhausted after your little chat with Fenris and Callus, so please have a nice hefty dose of my guilt too!’ Oh Invictus. You never change.” He laughed, and then the laughter turned to tears and he was gasping almost silently.

“I…” Invictus sat back, stung a bit by the mage’s words. He fell silent as he waited out the red head’s laughter. 

Hal dropped his head to one hand, his shoulders shaking as he continued to sob almost silently, and gradually it dawned on Invictus that Hal wasn’t laughing at him, but instead weeping exhaustedly.

Vic frowned slightly before moving forward to tug Hal into a loose hug. “What do you need?”

“I... I don’t know, I really don’t,” Hal hiccupped. “I want Arden, and I want to sleep, and I want everything to stop being so damned painful and I -” He collapsed against Invictus, as the crow fluttered up, startled.

“What am I going to do now? What am I supposed to do with... with... all of this?” he wept. “They never taught me how you move forward from anything like this in the Circle!”

“I know, I know. Do you want to stay here a while, or do you want to go back to your room? If so, I’ll walk you.” Vic said softly. 

Hal scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his dusty robe. “I - I don’t know, Fenris isn’t looking too good and - I don’t know what to do for the best. Being Tranquil was easier in so many ways; I never had to feel, and someone else always told me what to do. Should I - should I stay? Maybe I should just go, go sleep and... and think. Maybe by the time I get there I’ll be calm enough I won’t upset Zevran and Anders. Or maybe I’ll see what state my old room is in. I don’t know.”

“You can stay here if you like, the bed is plenty big enough or we can drink some more wine if you want.” Vic offered. 

“Wine... yes... I think I need more wine,” murmured Hal.

“Of course, I’ll get more of the red.” Invictus poured them both more wine, settling into silence as they continued to empty the bottle. After he drained his third or fourth glass, he went to the bed and checking on Fenris since the elf hadn’t spoken or moved during their talk or after. He brushed some of the thick white hair out of the warrior’s face and found his eyes closed, slight tear tracks on his face but he remained turned away and silent. 

Hal was eyeing the empty bottom of his glass somewhat unsteadily. The white crow on his shoulder was tugging at his hair and squawking at him insistently.

“I think she feels I’ve had enough,” he murmured.

“She’s a good bird to take care of you. Do you want to sleep now?” Vic asked from where he had perched next to his husband. 

“Yes... but I think I’ll sleep better in my own bed,” Hal sighed. He glanced up at Invictus and gave him a sad smile. “I don’t know where we go from here. I have no answers. Maybe things won’t look so bleak by the light of day.” He rose to his feet. “Maker knows, this fortress is filled enough with memories and nightmares even by day, much less at night. And the Veil was always so damned thin here.”

He began to make his way towards the door as the crow flapped her wings to keep her balance. “Goodnight, Fenris, Invictus,” he said softly.

“May I walk you back to your room?” Invictus asked as he followed Hal, unsure about letting him go by himself. 

Hal waved him back towards Fenris. “I’ll be fine,” he shrugged. “The walk will clear my head, and I’m hardly going to come to any harm here. Not any more.”

“I...alright, see you at breakfast then?” Vic said hopefully.

“Sure,” Hal nodded, and turned away towards his old rooms, the crow taking off to glide on ahead of him.

Vic stared after the mage, noticing that Callus had slipped out of the shadows and was trailing behind him. He thought about speaking but thought better of it, he just hoped it would turn out for the best. He shut the door and turned to Fenris, hopeful he could get the elf to respond. 

***

It was a few more days before they all sat down to dinner together in Anders’ quarters. Marian and Garrett weren’t present; Pin was bewildered as to why.

Anders was glancing around the table with a small frown as he noticed the strained expressions on everyone’s faces before glancing to Fenris and Invictus.

The elven fighter almost had canceled the dinner, he still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent alright after the fight with Callus but he’d said he wanted to clear the air. He’d worn all black, and let his hair down, not bothering with the braids Zevran usually did for him. He looked around the table one last time before speaking.

“I wanted to gather all of us to talk before we moved back to Nevarra - or, if any of you want to stay here, to have a meal together before we part ways for now.” Fenris took a drink of wine to hopefully settle his nerves before going on.

“I want to clear the air between all of us, because...we’ve been torn apart by the last couple of months and it's making things difficult. I owe a lot of you apologies, and if you wish I will give them now, or we can speak after dinner, except for Hal and Callus. I have wronged you both, and I apologize with all my heart. I hope you can one day find it in your hearts to forgive my trespasses & assumptions.” The elf fell quiet as he waited for those gathered to respond. 

Anders shot him a sharp look, no doubt remembering that last fight between them on the very subject of Hal and Callus; his lips parted as if to speak, but then he leaned forward and reached for his glass of wine instead.

“Yes, Father, you wronged us both, but Hal more than I,” nodded Callus. “I accept your apology. That doesn’t mean I necessarily forgive you - I think only time can do that.”

Hal’s eyes were on his glass of wine; he pondered it, then picked it up and drank deeply.

Fenris nodded, and forced himself to not beg Hal to reply. Instead he drank more and looked at everyone for a response before nudging Invictus. 

The mage sighed. “I too owe apologies to both Callus and Hal,” he began, then paused as there was a low but distinct “Hah!” from Pin in a “I should damned well think so!” tone of voice. Invictus went bright red.

“May we ask the reasons for these apologies, or do I.... not want to know?” asked Anders slowly.

Fenris looked nodded. “Before I explain, I owe you an apology as well. I lied, in the hope of sparing you and made things worse and caused a fight. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Anders blinked. “I....” His gaze went to Callus, then back to Fenris. “Apology accepted,” he replied quietly. 

“As for why? I made a terrible mistake and assumed Callus had done wrong, as did Invictus. Callus has had his ...his say to us in private, and Vic spoke with Hal. We did Hal wrong by assuming for him, thinking he could not speak for himself and it caused a lot of pain and hurt. I can only beg forgiveness.” Fenris looked to the redhead with a sad smile. “You don’t have to say anything now, I’m sorry for that too.”

“Same with me Hal, you don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to.” Vic said before poking at his food and dropping his gaze. 

Zevran had carried on eating, but now paused to glance at Callus. “So! You did not, in fact, do the thing which I told you that you had better not have done, yes?”

“Yes - I mean, no, Master Zevran, I didn’t!” stammered Callus.

“Good! Good,” responded Zevran and gave him a smile before turning back to his food.

“Does anyone else wish to speak about the things going on or are we done?” Fenris asked quietly.

“So this is why you’ve been avoiding everyone then, Fenris?” asked Anders neutrally as he poked his own food. “Invictus had the excuse of the house I suppose, but you’ve been hiding yourself away from everyone.” 

“A little bit yes, I’ve been...I’ve wanted space and took it. After Callus and I spoke, I needed it. I’m sorry,” Fenris replied. 

Anders dropped his gaze to his plate, frowning a little again. “I... see,” he replied slowly.

“May I be excused, I’m not feeling well,” Fenris said as he pushed his wine and plate aside. 

“I don’t think we’re finished talking,” replied Anders without looking up. 

“Love?” asked Invictus quietly. “Are you alright?”

“No,” responded Anders as he laid down his fork and gave up all pretence at eating and looked up. “No, I’m really not.” He sat back. “I don’t think any of you realise what it’s been like for me ever since we arrived here. I couldn’t stay in the house for fear of giving away that I’m not dead, and here I’m a prisoner in my own room for that same reason. So whilst you’ve been hopping back and forth, Pin spends all her time over at the College with Marian - frequently with Ellowynne, I might add, Fenris has been hiding away in his room, and the rest of you seem to have been avoiding me too save Zevran - and he’s been as much a prisoner as I have, though for different reasons.”

He sank his head into his hands slowly. “If even _one_ of you had thought to look in on us maybe once a day -” He fell silent.

“Master... I’m so sorry,” whispered Pin. 

“As am I,” nodded Callus next to her. “Both to you and to Master Zevran.”

Zevran shrugged. “I was pretty poor company, to tell the truth - but you might have come visit to save my poor love from my foul temper, eh?”

“You weren’t that bad, Zevran,” said Anders tiredly. “You’ve been in pain and being confined to bed isn’t fun for anyone.”

“Still, I, too, could have been better, no?” remarked the Antivan.

“And that was my fault too,” said Invictus heavily. “I’m sorry, Zev. And you too, Pin. I never wanted you to be afraid of me.”

Anders blinked then lifted his head. “What?” he asked quietly. “What are you talking about?”

“Then you should have thought about that before you took Callus to the woodshed,” retorted Pin hotly. “Zevran was trying to stop you!”

“Stop Vic doing what?” asked Anders, feeling a cold chill as he stared at Invictus.

“Nothing, nothing.” Invictus said hurriedly.

Anders had frozen, his eyes fixed on Invictus. “Invictus. What did you do.” His voice was far too calm and even.

“Master Anders, I-” began Callus then fell silent as Anders lifted a single finger. 

“I was asking Invictus,” he said, still in that same calm voice.

“I...I had a talk with Callus, in the woodshed,” Invictus mumbled.

“Like the one you had with Arden?” he said softly.

Hal stared at him, eyes large.

“No,” said Callus firmly. “ _Not_ like that!”

Anders moved only his eyes to stare at Callus, who wilted beneath his gaze before he turned his eyes back to Invictus. “You whipped Callus.”

“Sort of, it was not with a whip at least?” Vic tried to say.

Anders rose to his feet. Without a word he walked around the table, strode to the door, and then without a glance backwards he threw it open and walked out.

The room erupted in shouts, everyone surging to their feet except Zevran who called Anders’ name loudly.

Fenris ran ahead of them and grabbed Anders around the waist to pull him back. “NO, no...you can’t go out there!”

Anders staggered slightly, his eyes on the stairs leading down to the hall as he struggled to keep walking. “Let go of me, Fenris,” he said calmly. 

“No, do you know what will happen if someone sees you?” Fenris tugged back to get the mage to come with him.

“No, and frankly I don’t care,” replied Anders as he still struggled. “What does it matter? Sebastian is dead; you killed him. I saw his body. What does it matter anymore? My own husbands are lying to me and I’ve been a prisoner for over a week. If I don’t do this then I’m going to go mad.”

“Please, please Anders don’t do this,” Fenris asked as he tried to keep from getting pulled over as Anders kept moving forward. 

Anders finally halted then stared at Fenris. “Why?” he said plaintively. “Just give me one good reason why! Otherwise you may as well tie me up and throw me in the dungeons, Fenris. I want to see the sky, feel the wind on my face. You have no idea what this past week has been doing to me. And now - to find Invictus has been lying to me?” He stared at Fenris despairingly. “You’ve all been lying to me,” he whispered. “Please... for Andraste’s sake. For _my_ sake. Let me go. No-one here will expect to see me. The majority of people who hate my name don’t even know what I look like. Just... let me go.”

“Can I take you home then? I just don’t want to cause an incident if people see the very dead former Grand Enchanter walking around. Please, please love?” Fenris pleaded. 

Anders stared at him, then slowly dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “I surrender,” he said quietly.

“No, no, no. Don’t surrender. Please let me just take you home, we’ll sit outside and we can see the sky and just be together. Please?” Fenris asked. 

“Whatever you wish,” said Anders listlessly, his eyes on the floor.

“Anders...please don’t say that.” Fenris let go and stepped back from him. “Go then, if that’s what you want.” 

Anders remained where he was, silent, his shoulders slumped.

The elf turned to the others that were around them. “I don’t know what to do?”

They’d gathered quietly, figuring Fenris might succeed where they couldn’t, but as Fenris turned to them they stared at each other then at the blond mage kneeling at Fenris’ feet, his head bowed.

Which was how Meneris and Dorian found them as they came down the stairs a couple of minutes later.

“ _Amicus_! Help please, he won’t move. He wanted to go out and I tried to keep him here then he just crumbled and won’t move.” Fenris sounded far too calm as he grabbed Dorian and pleaded.

“Let him go Fenris, that’s the best way he can help if you let him down.” Vic said.

“Let him go,” said Zevran as he fought his way past the others, struggling forward on his crutches. He stared at Meneris. “He spent a year in the dark at Kinloch before he escaped and joined the Wardens. He does not handle confinement well. Let him go; I doubt any here would recognise him. Who would remain of the Inquisition? A bare handful of mages? He is one man amongst thousands.”

Dorian had managed to disentangle himself from Fenris’ grasp and crouched down next to Anders.

“You’re free,” he said softly. “Come look at the stars.”

Anders was still. “I surrender,” he repeated dully.

“You can go Anders, you’re free to do as you wish.” Fenris said from the other side. “Go on, the stairs are right there.”

Dorian glanced to Fenris. “Give me a hand, _amicus_?” he asked softly. “The garden is empty. No-one will see him there. Maybe if he sits out there awhile he may return to himself?” He began to straighten as he took one of Anders’ arms.

“Sure.” Fenris took his other arm and with Dorian’s help, walked the blond out to sit in the garden on one of the benches still getting the early evening sunlight. He sat with Anders, taking his hand as he tried to get him to come around. 

They’d sat there perhaps half an hour before Anders seemed to slowly come back to himself, glancing in confusion between Fenris and Dorian as the fresh air slowly revived him. He looked around slowly, taking in the overgrown and wild garden before slowly tilting his head back and drawing a deeper breath.

“Hey there, feel better now that you got some air?” Fenris asked quietly.

Anders blinked. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Maker. It’s... it feels so good. I thought I could die in that room and no-one except Zevran or Ellowynne would even notice.”

Dorian gave Anders a startled glance then looked at Fenris. “ _Amicus_ , have you all been avoiding Anders?”

“I have been avoiding everyone, but can we not talk about this right now? Unless, of course Anders wants to.” Fenris turned away before he could snap at his friend or his husband.

“A gilded cage is still a cage,” said Anders quietly. “And I - I don’t do well without people around me and the chance to walk freely. Sebastian is dead; what does it even matter if I leave my rooms now?”

“As you wish Anders,” Fenris said as he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, fingers still twined with his mage’s.

Slowly, Anders turned away from Dorian to curl about Fenris. “I missed you,” he said in a small voice. “Why is everyone afraid to tell me the truth?”

“Because we don’t want to send you to the grave if you have a damned heart attack,” Fenris said rather bluntly. 

He felt Anders flinch before the mage turned away and tried to pull his hand free. “I don’t want to be lied to!” 

“Then we won’t going forward, you’ve made it clear you want the truth no matter what. I will not lie to you again Anders,” Fenris said as he pulled Anders’ hand back and refused to let go. 

“Is there anything else people are hiding from me?” asked Anders after a little while, finally ceasing to pull against Fenris and instead content to be wrapped up in the elf’s arms. “I don’t want to be coddled. The more everyone hides things from me, the worse it will be when I finally find out. I won’t get stronger if you all keep hiding things from me.”

“No, there’s not,” Fenris replied quickly, his irritation showing finally. All he’d wanted was to clear the air, and now things had gone bad very quickly. He felt Anders flinch beside him.

“Alright - that’s, that’s good!” Anders said hastily. “So... we’re all good? No more secrets? Nothing else lurking?” 

“No,” Fenris snarled without looking at the blond, his irritation clear. 

Anders froze, his eyes on Fenris’ hand as the elf’s knuckles whitened.

Dorian glanced down and frowned. “ _Amicus_... I think perhaps we’re all a trifle on edge, and perhaps Anders needs to relax, look at the stars, and then sleep.”

Fenris let Anders’ hand go slowly, crossed his arms and tried to relax so the mage could have time outside. 

Anders wrapped his arms around himself and suddenly lurched upright, taking several steps forward as he stared up into the sky, the early evening stars emerging one by one. Fenris slowly became aware Anders was chanting very softly under his breath.

“The Hunter. The High Dragon. Andraste’s Belt. Maferath’s Eye. The Serpent.”

“We call that one Dumat’s Cradle,” said Dorian quietly. Anders nodded absently, not looking round.

The elf sat up and listened to them chatting, glancing up at the stars then back at Anders, seeming to have relaxed with Dorian as they star gazed. He sat back and just listened until the mages were done. 

Eventually, Anders was sat crosslegged, staring up at the stars with a peaceful look on his face. “Thank you, love,” he whispered. “This... this was what I needed.”

“You’re welcome Anders.” Fenris replied from where he’d stretched out on the bench while they watched the stars. He stared up at the sky, thinking far too hard about everything. 

Anders leaned back upon his elbows and stared at the sky. “I hope we can move on from here,” he said softly.

Fenris remained silent, staring at the stars as he waited for Anders to indicate he wanted to go in or go back to Nevarra. He had no interest in speaking for the time being.

“Is... is our house habitable yet?” asked Anders hesitantly. “Can... can we go home?”

“It should be, Invictus has been dealing with renovations, he would know best if we can go back.” the elf replied. 

Anders finally turned and looked at Fenris. “I want to go home, love,” he said, his eyes large and plaintive.

 _Puppy dog eyes,_ Fenris thought, and felt a part of himself melting.

“Fine, Dorian can you tell them I took Anders home and then if they wish, Vic can open a portal to join us.” Fenris got up and went to his husband, hand out for him to take it so they could go. 

Anders took his hand without even thinking about it, a hopeful, trusting look on his face. There was a sharp jerk sideways, and then he was sprawling upon the floor of their room, the smell of fresh wood-dust in his nostrils as he blinked and then clutched his stomach and fought not to lose what little food he’d managed to choke down.

He looked around and pushed himself to his feet, then stared at their bed. He staggered to it, then sprawled upon it, eyes closing as he fell.

“Anders?” asked Fenris, startled.

His only response was a faint snore. 

“At least I can have a few minutes to myself finally” he muttered as he went about settling him then leaving the door open in case he woke up and wondered where everyone was. Fenris changed clothes, and ran a bath with the door cracked in case he was called for. 

***

Invictus managed to get Zevran back into Anders’ room with help from Pin and Callus. The Antivan was quiet as Invictus swept him up off his feet and carried him back.

“Invictus... what happens now?” asked Pin as she clung to her brother.

“I don’t know Pin, I really don’t know. I just hope that we can move on with the house fixed and everything out in the open, though we were trying to keep that little fact from Anders, because of his weak heart.” Vic said as he settled Zevran. 

“Do you need anything Zev? Or may I stay with you for a while?” he asked.

Zevran grimaced and clutched at his thigh. “Invictus, I wish you to tell me our home is ready and I may return to your bed,” he confessed. 

“Yeah, there’s a few odds and ends to be done but we can ask the workmen to give us a few days to get settled before they are truly done, or I can honestly finish myself. Do you wish to go now?” Vic asked. 

Zevran gazed up into Invictus’ eyes. “If Wynne were not sleeping in the College right now, I would beg you to take me home,” he admitted quietly.

“I can go get her you know, open a portal and anyone who wants to, can go. Would you like that?” Vic offered.

Zevran stared at him. “You could bring her? She would not be afraid of you?”

“Master Zevran, if Master Anders has returned home then she’d come with me!” exclaimed Pin before darting a nervous look at Invictus.

“She wasn’t afraid of me, really.” Vic said tiredly. “What do you all want to do? Its getting late, Zevran’s in pain and I want to go to bed, here or there.” 

Callus turned to Pin. “Go fetch her,” he ordered. “We’ll sweat the small stuff when we’re there. I think we need to be at home before we can work all of this out.” He glanced around. “Where... where’s Hal?”

“I haven’t seen him since we all rushed out to stop Anders earlier. Will you look for him please while we wait for Pin to return with Wynne?” Vic said. He could feel a headache looming from how the evening had turned sour. “I’m going straight to bed when we get home.”

***

Fenris came out of the bath to the noise of others in the house and he decided to head to his office instead. He still wasn’t in a good place to talk or see them, not yet. His attempt at solitude lasted all of an hour before there was a knock. 

“Father?” called Pin quietly, her voice serious.

Fenris contemplated not answering but knew if he ignored the girl, it might make the others think he left Anders alone in the house. “Yes?” 

Pin entered quietly, and as Fenris glanced up he realised she had a look of worry on her face. “Father... Callus couldn’t find Hal. And... and something strange happened just after you left.”

“What do you mean strange?” he asked, sure he wasn’t going to like the answer. 

“There was a massive burst of magic and... as best we can tell... it didn’t come from the College or the hospital. Marian told me that the Enchanters were all perplexed and had no idea where it had come from. She... also said something really odd.” Pin twisted her fingers together and looked uncomfortable.

“Pin, sweetheart I’m not feeling well. Can you tell me what’s going on, please?” Fenris asked tiredly. 

“Father, Marian said that over dinner all anyone could talk about was the patch of blood found in the middle of the Conclave chamber floor and... and the missing Grand Enchanter. She said it’s all they’ve been talking about for days and days - and... and that Fiona has temporarily taken charge in his absence. But... but Father, Arden _died_ \- you went to his funeral!” Pin looked confused and agitated.

“I’m not following Pin, what do you mean Marian was talking like Arden just disappeared?” Fenris frowned at his daughter, unsure what she was going on about. 

Pin nodded eagerly. “Yes, Father, that’s it exactly! Like no-one knew he was dead - as if he just... never actually reached the Conclave at all! But - but Dorian came and he thought we might all be dead because Arden had been found and was dying! So... how could he never arrive there at all if he’s dead?”

“I’m confused, I know the funeral happened, you know it happened but...Hal. Fuck, he...he must have done something to cause, what is it Dorian told me, a ...paradox? But no one knew how to do those spells besides Dorian and his mentor, who was made Tranquil.” Fenris stared at Pin, then at the door. “What does the house look like?” 

“Like it was never damaged, Father,” she whispered, a touch of fear in her eyes. “And... there’s... little things here and there that are different. It’s... strange.”

“Then why do you notice it? How come I remember the funeral and the Void we all went through for the last couple of months? Do the others remember? Wait, Zevran, if Arden hadn’t fought him then his leg won’t be broken.” Fenris stared at the door as if he was afraid to go downstairs. 

“It’s still broken, Father! The only ones who remember - and who seem unaffected by whatever is going on - are just those of us who are here now, unless Meneris and Dorian remember too,” replied Pin. “Something... something about Skyhold maybe? But for whatever reason, I think we’re the only ones who know what really happened - who remember the past as it truly was.”

“Hal what did you do?” Fenris asked under his breath as he started to pace and noticed the wall where he’d punched it instead of Callus was whole, as if he’d never touched it. “Mythal...what the Void is going on?” 

“Fenris!” bellowed Invictus from downstairs. “Fenris, get down here, fast!”

“Maker fucking Void what now?” he said as he hurried downstairs to find Invictus flailing in the parlor at everything that looked...exactly the same. 

“Vic?” Fenris said, worried that they were all losing their minds. 

“This was all covered in dust-cloths!” exclaimed the mage. “There was sawdust everywhere! Now I find it looking as though nothing had ever happened - and the stairs, it’s the old stairs - it’s as though nothing ever happened here! The only thing different is the hall wall was repainted - just as happened after that whole mess when Arden attacked Zev - but the wall’s been painted green instead of blue!”

Fenris turned and stared at the wall, then walked back to the stairs and studied the bannister rail carefully. He’d leapt down the stairs so fast that he hadn’t been paying particularly close attention to them - but as he inspected them now, he realised the varnish on the rail was not new. He stared hard at the stairs and recognised a divot knocked out of the edge of one particular tread that he remembered striking accidentally with his sword after one particularly gruelling sparring session a few months back.

“This isn’t possible,” he breathed. “What’s going on here?” he said before turning to the others. “I’m calling Dorian.” 

“I’m not going mad?” said Invictus, with a note of relief in his voice.

From the direction of the downstairs guest room they heard Callus shouting. “Fuck - no - Master Zevran, I’m sorry, let me get you back to the parlour, that’s - Father! The bed in here is full of blood!”

“Don’t you know why Callus?” Fenris asked as he approached the room, sure he was going to see something he didn’t want to. “Don’t you remember what you did?” 

Callus gestured at the bed - which looked as if someone had been butchered in it; dark blood, still damp, filled the bed, soaking into the mattress and dripping onto the floor.

“I didn’t fucking do _that!!_ ” Callus shouted, clearly badly rattled. “That - that’s fresh blood! Someone just bled out there!”

Zevran was leaning on his crutches and staring down at the bed. He leaned down and pressed a hand to the mess then glanced up at Fenris. “This is still warm, _carissimi_ ,” the Antivan said. “Someone has been here - and very recently, too.”

“Someone was here - in our house? Someone badly hurt!” said Callus. “But - then - where are they?”

“Where’s who?” demanded Invictus as he belatedly followed Fenris then rocked back on his heels. “Fuck. What in the Void is going on here?” He glanced around at the others. “No-one breathes a word of this to Anders,” he said quietly. “Cal, get Zevran into the parlour. Fenris, help me strip this bed and flip the mattress. We need to get this room looking unblemished before Anders or Wynne have a chance to see it. And then we need to work out just what in the name of the Maker’s hairy balls is going on here.”

“Callus, you beat a man in this room. I know you did, I’ve not gone entirely mad. Why don’t you remember?” Fenris said as he turned to his son. “What’s the last thing you remember Callus, do you remember us fighting, and you..saying …” the fighter trailed off at the look of confusion on his son’s face. 

“Father, of course I fucking do!” shouted Callus as he glared at his father then gesticulated wildly at the bed. “But he never bled like _that_ \- and that was weeks ago!”

“Fenris, Cal’s right,” said Invictus. “You forget - I’m the one who changed the sheets afterwards, and whilst Arden’s back was bloody, it wasn’t as much as this. This is the blood from someone who’s bleeding out. Whoever it is, they won’t have gotten far - not after losing that much blood. I don’t know what’s going on here, but someone lost a hell of a lot of blood in that bed perhaps half an hour, no more than an hour ago. Which means they must still be nearby.”

“Who though? Why isn’t there a trail leading somewhere?” Fenris said as he headed towards the garden, seeking this mysterious victim went.

Invictus was just as puzzled when he couldn't find a trail either. “Alright, I’m stumped.” he admitted. “Someone help me get this bed out so we can just burn it.”

Callus returned to the guest room. “Pin’s looking after Master Zevran,” he said. “Wynne is upstairs in bed, thankfully - Pin woke her up when she fetched her from the College, and she went straight back to sleep the moment she was in her own bed. Father’s hunting for any sign of a trail in the garden.” He glanced at the bed. “The bed-frame’s sound, but that mattress will only be fit for burning,” he nodded.

He moved over to the bed and started stripping bloodsoaked bedding off then halted. “Invictus,” he said quietly. “Recognise this?” He picked up something from the floor and held it out to the mage.

It was a dusty black over-robe, the sleeve cuffs soaked in blood.

“Wasn’t Hal wearing this?” Callus asked quietly.

“Yes, but that’s impossible. All of this is impossible!” Vic said as he took in the room.

“Not impossible if he used time magic, not in the least.” Fenris said before going to the parlor to call Dorian. “Please be there.” he whispered after swiping a thumb over the dark stone. 

“ _Amicus_?” exclaimed Dorian’s voice through the ring; the Tevinter magister sounded startled and harassed. “This isn’t a very good time, Fenris -”

“I know that, and I think you might know why. We...we came back and it's like nothing changed except the room Zevran was in. It looks like someone was murdered in there but there’s no trail, nothing.” Fenris said. “We can’t find Hal.” 

“You mean _Hal_ did this? Dumat, and here I was trying to explain to Meneris that seriously, no, it’s not me this time and the only other person who could have done it was dead - except it seems he rather isn’t?” Dorian’s voice sounded uncertain. “In fact, no-one seems to know anything about Arden showing up at death’s door in the Conclave chamber except Meneris and I. _Please_ tell me we aren’t going mad?”

“We remember too.” Fenris said as he sat down in the parlor. “We all remember but no one else does, why? Could Hal… could he have made it so we didn’t forget as part of the spell?” 

“I’m not sure just how he would even have known how to cast the spell in the first place, much less modify it - and honestly, I’m sure that such a working would -” Dorian broke off. “ _Vishante kaffas_. Of course. All my notes - they’re back in my old room; I hadn’t yet gotten around to arranging and filing them. As for how we aren’t affected... it’s only those of us who were in the old inner keep of Skyhold who still remember - specifically, those of us who were all .... Oh. Oh my.”

In the background, Fenris could hear Meneris testily telling Dorian to cut that out and just say what was going on, and Fenris found he was in full agreement with the former Inquisitor. 

“The mark in Meneris’ hand. It was getting stronger, and it went off several times - both here in Meneris’ rooms, but also down in Anders’ room on one occasion when Anders tried to cast healing on it. The Veil has always been thin here in the keep as it is. I’d guess that perhaps it had left some kind of residual energy that protected us all? _Amicus_ , little Ellowynne was over in the College when all of this was happening, wasn’t she? It would be interesting to know what she remembers.”

“She’s asleep with Anders, I have no idea what she remembers at all. We’ll have to see how she acts when she’s awake tomorrow. May I come there and talk to you about this after breakfast?” Fenris asked quietly.

“Why can’t Dorian come here? He knows about this temporal magic shit, we don’t.” Vic interjected.

Fenris clenched his jaw as he waited for an answer. 

“That’s a very good idea, Invictus,” agreed Dorian. “There may be some residual energies there that I can pick up on. Has anything changed there?”

“Everything! The house does not look changed at all, like the workmen from Skyhold never did a thing. The only thing changed is the bed that...Arden was in, it looks like a murder scene.” Fenris replied.

“The kitchen wall is green instead of blue, but other than the fact no work has been done, nothing has changed here.” Vic added. 

“It’s like the fire never happened,” Callus added.

“How utterly fascinating!” said Dorian quietly in a tone that indicated his mind was likely racing and analysing everything they said. “Yes, I think I do need to come see for myself. Though the blood - hmm, I don’t like the sound of that. Invictus, how much lyrium do you have there?”

“A few vials, why?” Vic replied as he glanced to Fenris with a raised brow.

“Because if this is Hal’s doing and he’s done what I think he’s done, then he went back rather farther than I did in my ill-advised leap - and the one vial of lyrium I took then was vastly inadequate. My magic began to devour my own life force once my mana supply was depleted. I was fortunate that my mother’s servants found me in time. And I leapt only the once.” Dorian’s voice was sombre. “Unless Hal took a significant amount of lyrium first and then even more upon arrival, then I fear the blood in that bed may have been his. I will be there shortly - and I shall bring as much lyrium with me as I can carry.”

“We’ll be waiting for you.” Fenris said with a swipe of his thumb over the ring before looking at his husband. “Whatever you’re thinking about my lyrium, stop it.” 

“Father, your lyrium wouldn’t do in any case,” said Pin unhappily. “Master Anders taught me about this - when a mage casts a spell too powerful for them that uses up all their mana and then begins using their life-force, it’s only the ingestion of lyrium that will work. Unless that mage is a Spirit Healer and can draw on the power of their spirit too - and even then, that’s not guaranteed to work.”

“Not what I meant Pin, but it's good to know.” Fenris said before heading to the kitchen. 

“I wouldn’t try to use your lyrium like that love, no one knows what it would do if we tried to use it for temporal magic anyway.” Vic said. 

“So... then wherever he is... Hal’s likely in serious trouble?” asked Callus slowly. “If all that blood was his, then... wherever he is, he might well die? But... I don’t get it, what did he do? I couldn’t follow what Pavus was saying - did Hal somehow go somewhere through time?”

“Think, my apprentice,” said Zevran quietly from the couch where he was reclining, his splinted broken leg stretched stiffly out before him. “What did he say so often? That he wished he could have Arden back. That he could change things. If he found Dorian’s notes and realised he had the power to do this thing?”

“And somehow, because of something to do with the Inquisitor’s mark... we’re the only people who know that he’s done it - that he’s changed the past!” breathed Pin.

“Well damn, I guess he got what he wanted. The question is, do we fix this or let him be with Arden whenever he is?” Vic pondered. 

“But.... but how do we even fix it? Surely anything we do to try and put things back how they should be would only make things worse!” exclaimed Pin. “What would you do - kill Arden? I can’t see how that would make things any better - and for all we know, he might not have survived anyway!”

“The blood was fresh,” Zevran pointed out. “I think that as far as the question of _when_ is concerned, we must presume that is _now_. In which case our concern must be to find Hal, as from Dorian’s words we must assume that Hal’s life may be in danger.”

“Venhedis, this is more of a mess than we left. Why is nothing going right?” Invictus snapped. 

Fenris entered the parlor with a bowl of stew and wine, ignoring everyone as he passed through to sit at the dining table. 

Invictus and the others watched him in disbelief.

“Wait - Father, that... that stew. Where did you get that? None of us had time to cook that since we got back here!” said Callus. He darted a startled glance at Invictus. “Did you leave a pot of stew here when you came to Skyhold yesterday?”

Invictus shook his head, as nonplused as they were.

“It was in the kitchen, and things are already weird so I didn’t question it. Considering what we’re dealing with? Strange stew is too small to worry about, and if it kills me? Oh well.” Fenris quipped before licking the spoon clean. 

“Does it have sawdust in it?” asked Invictus, curious. “Because all my meals here for the past couple of weeks have had sawdust in. Couldn’t get away from it.”

The elf glanced into his bowl and shook his head no before going back for seconds. He came back and enjoyed the mystery stew, even as the rest of his family wondered where it came from.

“I didn’t eat much at dinner myself,” said Callus slowly. “That stew looks rather good.”

“I think Zevran was the only one who actually ate anything much,” replied Pin. “I’m... tempted to grab some of that stew too.”

“It does taste alright, if you want to risk it.” Fenris told her with a grin. 

“What’s wrong with you? First you were angry as a damn wyvern at us, then you whisk Anders off without saying goodbye and now you are eating strange food you found in the kitchen without even checking it for poison or anything?” Invictus asked as he approached Fenris with a hand out to check him over.

“I’m fine as I can be with discovering that Hal did time magic, may be off bleeding to death and that Arden isn’t actually dead now. I’m fine, so I’m eating this food in our house because why not Vic? What else can happen today?” the elven warrior replied with a shrug. 

Before Invictus could respond, the bright flash of light of a portal opening up in the hallway by the stairs suddenly lit up the hall and then they heard Dorian’s voice.

“Fenris! I’ve brought lyrium. Have you found them?” A moment later the magister appeared in the doorway and then came to a half as he stared at the elf calmly eating stew.

“No, haven’t found them.” Fenris replied far too calmly. 

“He’s your _Amicus_! Do something about him.” Invictus pleaded. 

Dorian set the lyrium bottles in his arms down onto the dining table as he stared at Fenris. “Don’t you think perhaps we all ought to be looking?” he murmured. “Hmm, Fenris?”

“I’m not going to stand around doing nothing whilst Hal might be dying!” said Callus hotly. “Lord Pavus, tell me what we can do!”

Dorian glanced at him with one eyebrow arched. “Well, for a start you can stop with this ‘Lord’ business and call me Dorian, because Dumat knows I’m already on edge as it is. And then you can tell me where you’ve already searched.”

They exchanged glances. 

“Well, Father looked outside, and Invictus looked for a blood trail in the guest room but neither of them found anything....” began Callus.

“What about Hal’s room?” asked Dorian. “Hal _did_ have a room here, didn’t he?”

“We gave him the upstairs guest room,” nodded Pin.

“And you checked and found nothing,” nodded Dorian as he glanced over the lyrium bottles. The others exchanged glances; after a moment of silence, Dorian glanced up. “You... _did_ check his room?”

“Not yet, we all got kind of floored when we noticed the changes. I’ll check.” Vic said with a strange glance to his elven husband. 

“I’ll come with you,” nodded Callus.

“As will I,” added Dorian as he gathered up half the flasks of lyrium before turning to Pin. “And your talents may be required, my dear - though I pray to Dumat that they are not.” He glanced to Fenris. “Coming, _amicus_?”

“No, I’ll stay here for now you don’t need all of us crowding in to check what’s likely an empty room.” Fenris replied. 

Dorian and Invictus exchanged glances as Callus looked angry.

“Come on then - _I_ give a damn enough to check even if _he_ doesn’t!” the elven youth snapped before turning and heading swiftly upstairs. 

“Cal, wait!” cried Pin before sprinting after him. 

They heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and along the upstairs landing as Invictus and Dorian turned to follow.

Then they heard Pin scream.

“Invictus! Dorian! _Papa!!_ ” she cried.

Invictus and Dorian broke into a sprint as Zevran straightened and began struggling to rise to their feet; overhead they heard a bedroom door open and then Anders’ sleep-befuddled voice asking what was going on.

The scream of his daughter was enough to get Fenris up and running up the stairs to get past them. “What is it?” he asked as he tried to get past them all. 

Pin gestured at the bed and the two figures sprawled there. Hal was laid out upon his back, unconscious, blood seeping from beneath his scarred eyelids and trickling from his nose. Beside him, collapsed half across him, lay Arden - likewise unconscious, clad only in the grey, bloodstained pants Invictus had last seen him wearing, his back scarred with shiny pink scars only barely healed - very much alive.

“Um...what?” Fenris asked as he stared at both of them, unsure whether to scream or just turn around and walk away. 

“Bloody fucking Maker’s balls, this is a mess.” Invictus said as he took in the sight of them. “Well one of you get Hal, I’ll get Arden.”

“What’s going on, what -” Anders was dazedly asking as he came up behind Invictus just as Dorian pushed into the room with the lyrium.

“Callus, lyrium - we need to get as much of this down Hal’s throat as we can; the spells are devouring him from within! Keep pouring it into him until the bleeding stops!” Dorian snapped tersely as he tossed a flask of lyrium to the youth. This seemed to finally snap Callus out of the horrified stare he was giving the bed’s occupants. “Someone get Anders out of here. Pin? I need you to check Arden and see what state he’s in.”

Callus pulled Arden none too gently off Hal then pulled the unconscious mage into his arms. Thumbing the cork off the flask as Dorian knelt on the floor beside him to tilt Hal’s head back and part his lips gently, Callus began carefully pouring the lyrium into Hal’s mouth.

“Invictus, give me a hand?” Pin pleaded as she went to Arden. “Get him on the floor where I can work on him without getting in their way!”

“Sweet Andraste - Hal? _Arden??_ ” exclaimed Anders, stunned. “But - but - _how??_ ”

“Time magic, now move out of the way.” Fenris said as he moved in to get Arden settled on the floor so Pin could work. He got out of her way as well, watching as she healed the former Grand Enchanter. 

Anders pressed himself against the wall and out of their way as he watched; after a moment he seemed to shake off his shock. “Dorian, Callus - let me check Hal as you’re doing that. I might be able to counteract any damage already done.”

Dorian spared Anders a glance then nodded. He and Anders swapped places and Anders’ hands glowed blue as he laid them on Hal’s unmoving form.

Pin’s hands were likewise glowing blue. “Dumat, his body’s a mess inside,” she exclaimed. “Barely healed, and - _venhedis_ , scar tissue all through him, including what feels like burn damage - but... _inside_ him?”

“Lightning bolt,” supplied Anders absently. “Several. Cauterises as it passes through the body.” 

At that Invictus went a bit pale as he continued to work, hopeful no one realized what he’d done. Well Anders likely had a good idea, but he couldn’t deal with their hate at the moment.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at the mage’s words, glancing to Invictus but kept silent as he watched.

“I... I don’t think there’s much more I can do, Master Anders,” Pin said as she sat back and stared down at the unconscious Arden. “It’s all scar tissue now, and I still haven’t gotten the knack of healing that.”

Anders nodded, his gaze focused on Hal’s face. “How much lyrium?” he asked Callus softly.

“This is the fourth flask,” replied Callus anxiously as he stared down into Hal’s unconscious face. “Is - is he going to die, ser?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” replied Anders firmly. 

Fenris moved forward and knelt by Anders, his markings lit and hand out for him to take. “Like old times in the infirmary?”

Anders’ answering laugh was a little high-pitched, but he took Fenris’ hand gratefully. He drew upon the lyrium and wove it into his own casting, both of mana and of spirit, pouring it all into Hal’s body. As Fenris watched, the flow of blood seeping from beneath Hal’s eyelids and from his nose finally lessened then halted.

“Don’t give him any more lyrium,” Anders murmured, still pouring healing magic into Hal’s body until finally he released Fenris’ hand and his grasp on the magic. He swayed and then clutched at Fenris’ arm for balance.

“We’re going to get you to bed before you fall down yourself.” Fenris said as he rose and put an arm around his husband. “Callus, will you take Hal to your room and we’ll leave Arden in here.” 

“Wait - let me check Arden,” objected Anders even as Fenris was tugging him up with him.

“Master Anders, it’s alright - he’s in no danger, and the scars can wait until you’ve rested!” Pin said as she stared up at him. “Invictus, would you help me put Arden on the bed?”

Callus had risen to his feet, Hal cradled gently in his arms. “Lord Pa- sorry, Dorian,” he corrected himself. “Thank you. If you hadn’t been here -”

“Just as well I am, isn’t it?” smiled Dorian. “Go, take Hal to your room young man - I’m sure he will be safe there and you will care for him.” He turned to Invictus. “Come, let’s get Arden up on the bed. Not you, Pin - I think you can sit this little task out.”

Fenris got Anders settled in their bed, watching as he curled up and was soon asleep. The elven warrior shut the door just in time to hear Zevran calling out to them so he could know what was happening. Fenris felt a surge of guilt as he realised that the Antivan was still waiting downstairs, unable to know what was going on and his imagination no doubt coming up with nightmare scenarios.

As Fenris reached the top of the stairs, he could see Zevran sitting at the bottom, staring up with a worried expression. 

“ _Carissimi_ ,” he sighed. “At last! Tell me - please, I have been fretful down here alone. What is happening? You have found Hal, yes?”

“Yes, and Arden somehow alive though not exactly well. They must have tried to go back at a point after Invictus had “spoken” with him in the woodshed. Anders is asleep after healing, and Hal is with Callus, while Arden has been put into Hal’s room. That bed still needs to be burned, and I really want to get drunk and sleep.” Fenris told him as he leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You say Anders was healing? Then... Dorian was correct?” Zevran frowned. “What state was Hal in?”

“Dorian was correct, and Hal seemed to have been bleeding internally but Anders fixed that as he could. Arden, he had internal burns and other things wrong that I didn’t catch but he was doing better by the time they were done. I just fear what will happen when Ellowynne wakes up and sees him, or if he sees you, me, Invictus or Callus. I’m so damn tired of our lives being anything but normal Zev.” 

Zevran had been in the act of hauling himself back up again, one hand braced upon the banister, but at mention of Arden’s name his head whipped around to stare at Fenris in shock. His hand slipped and he sat down hard on the step and then cried out, clutching his splinted leg.

“Zev!” Fenris yelped as he got an arm around the elf and tried to help him. “Don’t hurt yourself again please.” 

“Arden... Arden is _here_?” said Zevran, looking shocked and dazed. “But he is dead... or this is all a dream....”

“Somehow, Hal managed to go back before Arden died and probably messed up somewhere and wound up here, now with him rather alive. Apparently they think he’s missing at the Conclave rather than dead.” Fenris said as he got an arm under the elf’s legs and tried to keep him steady. “Can I pick you up or does it hurt too bad?”

Zevran gritted his teeth. “It hurts, but I would prefer to sleep in our bed than sleep alone upon the couch,” he replied tersely. “So... Hal has somehow uncovered Dorian’s little trick and used it to save Arden before he can die several weeks ago?” He blinked. “Pain does strange things to the mind I think, for I almost followed that, _carissimi_.”

“Then I must be in pain as well, because I somehow followed it. May I carry you or should I teleport?” Fenris asked as he got to his feet slowly. 

“Teleport, I think,” replied Zevran, closing his eyes briefly.

“Hold on then.” Fenris said before getting them to their room and getting the blond elf settled on his back and his leg propped up. “Do you need a potion or drink before I get entirely bloody drunk enough for all of us?” 

“Brandy, if we have any -” Zevran checked himself. “Ah, but we do not, alas. Very well; any good strong drink, _carissimi_.”

“I’ll get the whiskey for us and join you in bed if that’s alright?” Fenris asked warily.

Zevran nodded, tiredly. “I very much wish to share the bed with you again, _carissimi_ ,” he replied.

“Even though I have been keeping myself away?” Fenris asked quietly. 

“I have missed you, Fenris,” said Zevran softly. “Your absence only hurt us both the more.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Fenris replied before hurrying down the stairs to find a nearly full bottle of Antivan Brandy. He didn’t question it, just got the bottle and a couple of glasses. He poured them each two fingers worth before saluting his husband. “To Antivan Brandy.”

Zevran blinked at the brandy, then took his glass and stared at it in surprise before smiling and raising it. “And to my husband who has found me more brandy!” He sipped it and then sighed.

“To my husbands, who still love me despite my stupidity.” Fenris clinked his glass against Zevran’s and drank deeply.

“To Fate, which is often fickle and strange,” continued Zevran before downing the rest of his brandy.

“Another before we go to bed?” Fenris asked as he held the bottle out.

“Indeed!” exclaimed Zevran as he held his glass out. His eyes looked a little glassy, and Fenris wondered how much wine or brandy the Antivan might have put away whilst he and Dorian were outside with Anders in the garden at Skyhold.

“Another then sleepy Antivans will go to bed, yes?” Fenris teased 

Zevran’s only response was a lazy chuckle as he shook his empty glass at Fenris a little more insistently. If Fenris was any judge, one more glass would have the blond elf as deeply asleep as Anders already was. 

The tall elf gave his husband a generous pour before putting the bottle out of reach and managing to get in the middle of the bed. 

Fenris found his prediction was a little off; he had to rescue the glass from Zevran’s hand when there was perhaps a third of the glass still left as his head slowly drooped and then the Antivan was deeply asleep. Unlike Anders, however, he was silent.

“Thank Mythal for small favors.” He mumbled as he managed to strip out of everything and get under the covers but sleep didn’t come as quickly for the Tevinter elf as it did for his spouses.

***

Dorian moved to take Arden’s shoulders and waited for Invictus to take his legs.

“Quite the unpleasant business all round,” remarked Dorian as he glanced up at the other mage. 

“Very much so, and I wish it hadn’t come to pass.” Vic said as he took the blond’s legs and helped Dorian get him to the bed. As they laid him in the bed, Arden gave a low groan. Dorian held still, staring down at Arden as the blond mage turned his head slightly upon the pillow then groaned again.

“He has Dumat’s luck, I swear.” Vic said as he stared down at the other mage. 

Arden’s eyes drifted half-open. “Hal?” he slurred faintly.

“Not Hal.” Vic said with a smile before turning him over to Dorian. “I doubt he’ll want to see me again.”

At the sound of Invictus’ voice, Arden’s eyes flew open wide and he stared up at the other mage in mute terror.

“I’m leaving you alone, you’ve been healed and they will take care of you lucky bastard. I’m going to bed, do as you will Dorian.” Vic said before leaving them.

As he paused just outside the door, he heard Arden’s voice. It was weak and shook as he spoke.

“I... I don’t understand. He... he left me to die. I _was_ dying. But....”

“How do you think you got back here?” asked Dorian in a curious tone.

“Hal. I’m not sure how he knew where I was, but he was suddenly there a moment after Invictus had gone, and he was healing me. Then he brought us back to the other guest room but he collapsed, bleeding - I couldn’t see where he was hurt, but it was coming from his eyes and nose, and he was coughing up blood, and I had no idea why. I tried to heal him but there’s - I -”

Invictus heard Arden go quiet for a moment before softly murmuring, “Magebane. Couldn’t heal myself or Hal. Knew there were potions around somewhere.... managed to find some lyrium. I brought him upstairs, managed to coax a vial into him but it wasn’t enough.”

“Thankfully I brought enough with me once I realised what he’d done,” replied Dorian. 

“What do you mean?” asked Arden, confused. “Doesn’t take that much for a simple teleport, even two back to back like that -”

“Foolish man,” chided Dorian. “What date do you think it is?”

“What?” Arden’s confusion seemed only to have intensified.

“You have no idea, have you?” continued Dorian. “Arden Hawke, you died a month ago.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal did the THING, and Callus along with Fenris have some hard talks.

Hal slept for three days, waking only infrequently during that time. It was a further two days before he was capable of standing for more than a few minutes without passing out, and a further couple of days before he was finally capable of leaving his room.

Arden kept to Hal’s room. Pin brought him meals, of which he seemed to eat very little; the magebane took several days to clear his system. Arden’s only other visitor was Anders, who said nothing to the others of Arden’s condition save that he was healing about as well as might be expected.

Fenris cussed his bad luck as he sat at the table by Invictus, with Cal across from him. Hal was at the table, looking worse for wear but not as half-dead as when they found him. A week of healing, potions and full meals had put him on the mend, as much as they could. Fenris stared at everyone, wondering who would finally talk. 

Anders gave Hal a gently encouraging smile. “We’re glad you’re looking more yourself, Hal,” he said quietly. “We were hoping you could explain....” He looked around, silently inviting the others to speak up.

“How you managed to go back in time and get Arden before he passed away,” Invictus asked before looking at the table. 

Hal dropped his gaze to his hands as they rested upon the table. “Dorian had left his notes in his old room, and it wasn’t too hard to reconstruct them and work out how he managed to step back in time to arrive in time for his father’s funeral. I worked out that Arden must have done something similar when he hopped all over Thedas to pass warning about the gaatlok in the capitals of all the countries; he would never tell me how he did it though, and he didn’t teach it to any of the Wardens either - they just used ordinary portals to come to -” 

Hal glanced up and stared at Anders, wide-eyed.

“It’s alright,” Anders said quietly. “You can say it. You were about to say, ‘to Anders’ funeral’, weren’t you?” He smiled wryly. “I know it feels strange, but it’s alright. I’m OK with hearing it; it doesn’t bother me.” He gestured to Hal. “Please, go on.”

“Well... I knew just when it was that Arden was found, from talking to Dorian about it at the funeral,” Hal slowly continued. “And enough mages there had issues with Arden’s rule that they were quite happy to tell me just how long he was believed to have lain in the Conclave chamber before he was found. I knew that to have the best chance of saving him I’d need to jump to just after he must have initially arrived there. I found him trying to drag himself across the chamber floor; he passed out just as I got there I think.”

He lowered his gaze. “I knew Arden had needed a lot of lyrium to make all those jumps. I thought two vials would work for the two jumps I’d need to make. I guess I forgot to account for healing Arden in the middle - and I wasn’t expecting him to be dosed up on magebane. It fought me; I had to put more magic into healing. I guess that’s why things went wrong on the second jump. My mana just burned away into nothing, and I could feel my body feeding on itself - the magic turning on me, using my life to fuel the spells. My chest hurt, my lungs; it was like I was drowning in my own blood. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke in Callus’ bed some time later - and he wouldn’t tell me what happened to Arden.”

Callus had the grace to look a little ashamed at that.

“I know you must all be angry with me,” Hal went on. “I don’t know what comes next. But... can any of you honestly tell me that if you knew the spell to jump back in time to the exact time and place to save Anders before the assassin’s knife could strike, that you wouldn’t have used it in a heartbeat, not caring what the consequences might be?”

He lifted his head and stared round at them all.

“I failed my heart,” said Zevran softly. “I would have given my life itself for the chance to return to that moment and stop that blade.”

Anders reached out to him and the Antivan took Anders’ hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss the slender white fingers.

“You know I would have done it if I could have, but I am no mage to wield such power.” Fenris said rather tersely.

“I would have,” said Pin as she stared at Anders steadily. “You’re my tutor, my Master. Not Domne - never that - but I am your apprentice. And I’d have done it to save you, and to save my father the pain of losing you. Or Invictus the pain of watching you die in his arms.” She glanced at Zevran. “Or the pain of Zevran blaming himself to this day that he wasn’t fast enough; that he failed.”

The Antivan stared at her, then bowed his head, even as Callus shot his sister a startled glance.

“Most of all, I’d do it to spare Wynne the pain of losing her father,” she finished softly.

Invictus glared at Hal, his eyes a little bright as he looked at the redhead. “Of course I would, do you doubt that I’d do anything for him? I’d have given my life in exchange for his without hesitating. I watched him die in my arms Hal, that’s a pain I would not want if I could stop it.” 

“Now that we’ve confirmed what we already knew we’d all do to keep Anders from dying, what now Hal?” Fenris asked. 

Hal stared at Fenris, tears in his eyes. “I will not regret what I’ve done,” he said, a little fiercely. “I wanted him back. I wanted another chance.” He glanced at Callus. “Forgive me,” he said, a little of the fire dying. “But I will walk out of this house with him and never return if you expect me to choose. I love him. I never stopped loving him. There’s something wrong with him and I should have seen that, should have done more to help him. Sebastian broke him. And I....” The tears began to roll down his face. “I gave up on him. And none of this would have happened if I hadn’t turned my back. I was hurting, but so was he, and I shouldn’t have let it come to that. I should have taken him away. I shouldn’t have given into my own weakness; I was trying to help Zevran but the second time was my own fault.” 

“I did not ask for your regret Hal, I simply wished to know what comes next. We must speak with him as well, and then a decision can be made. If you are ready, we will send for _him_ and we can talk this over, as a group.” Fenris said with a glance to Callus before giving Hal his full attention.

“It’s too late for regret anyway, besides you and he can have a clean slate, like Anders got after his return. Or you can go back, say you found him and carry on while you help him, either way something has to be done Hal.” Vic added. 

Pin rose from her place. “I’ll fetch him,” she said. “I’m the one who’s been bringing him his meals, after all.”

She left the room. As they waited in silence, Zevran rose with difficulty from his place.

“Zev?” asked Anders, startled. “Are you -” He stilled as the Antivan shook his head at him.

As Pin returned, leading Arden, the blond mage halted and stared at them all. His eyes went to Zevran as the elf slowly limped around the table towards a hard wooden chair that he had set some distance apart from the table. He limped around behind the chair then gestured to Arden, then the chair, his eyes cold.

Arden glanced at the others, then bowed his head and walked to the chair. As he sat and looked around nervously, Zevran’s hand came down heavily upon Arden’s shoulder and the colour drained from his face.

Fenris smiled slightly at the look on the blond mage’s face before he looked to his husband. “Do you wish to start Zevran?” 

“I think he should get the most to say out of all of us, after all he’s the one that Arden nearly killed.” Vic added. 

Anders looked as though he wanted to speak, but he swallowed then held his tongue.

Into the silence, Zevran leaned forward slightly.

“You have crippled me,” he said quietly. “I will never walk without a limp again. You have condemned me to a life of pain. Every cold winter I will remember anew what you have done to me. You tried to kill me. What should I do with you, Arden Hawke?”

Arden began to shake as his gaze went to each of them, then Hal who was now crying, his mismatched eyes wide with dread as he stared at Zevran.

“It-it-it’s... not for me to say how I should be punished,” Arden finally managed to choke out. “Whatever you decide to do to me, please - just - I beg you, don’t torture Hal over this.”

Zevran smiled coldly. “Shall we then take you to the woodshed, Arden Hawke?” he whispered. 

Arden’s eyes became fixed and blank. “No... please, not that,” he whispered. “Anything but that. Please... please, no... please?”

“I’m going to be sick,” Anders murmured.

“Zevran, please if you must hurt him just don’t do it there. I threw up after I saw the remains of what Vic did.” Fenris said. 

“Please don’t, I felt sick after Fenris reminded me of what I’d done, and...Callus after I lost my mind and dragged him in there too.” Vic admitted.

“I remember Orlais,” Anders whispered, his face blank with horror as he stared at Zevran.

The elf straightened. “Look upon what you have wrought, Arden,” he said quietly. “Think on what you have done to me. _That_ is the retribution I claim from you.”

He limped slowly and painfully back to his seat.

Arden all but collapsed in the chair, doubling over as he clutched at his head and moaned. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wept. “I wish I could take it all back!”

“Well unless one is stupid enough to play with Time Magic again, you can’t. It's too late for sorry Hawke, far too late as far as I’m concerned.” Fenris snarled. “I won’t forgive you for nearly killing Zevran, or begging me to kill you when I was already on edge. I hope your demons never, ever let you forget this.” the elf said before he leaned back to stare down the trembling mage. 

As Fenris spoke, Arden’s hand stole to the scars across his throat and he gave another sob. “I’m sorry, Fenris,” he managed to gasp out. “I should never have said any of those things to you. You didn’t deserve that. You should have walked away and left me there.”

Hal turned his head to stare at Fenris.

“Don’t look at me, make him tell you if you ever want to know. I barely recall his words, but it was so terrible that I checked out and Vic had to care for me like a child for a couple of days. Much as I’d love to just mentally go away sometimes, I can’t do that at will.” Fenris said with a long glance at his son before falling quiet.

“You do it too often as it is,” responded Callus, though without heat. His eyes were fixed on Arden as he spoke. “But whilst we’re about it, it looks like we’re all making confessions. So, maybe I shouldn’t have said I’d end you, Father. But I still mean this much - I won’t stand by and watch anyone hurt Hal. I may lose him to Hawke over there, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand to see him hurt.”

Arden lifted his head to blink at Callus uncomprehendingly, before glancing to Hal. “After all I’ve done - you...?”

“I still love you, Arden,” said Hal quietly as he scrubbed at the tears still rolling down his face with his sleeve. “You hurt me badly, but I shouldn’t have turned away. There’s a sickness inside you, and I should have been there for you.”

“Excuse me for not being able to control when something pushes me over the edge Callus.” Fenris snapped at the younger elf before rising to go. 

“Fenris, sit down, love?” said Anders as he looked up at the elf. “The whole point of us being here like this is to get this stuff out in the open, stop it festering. How can any of us heal if you leave?” He shook his head sadly. “We’re tearing each other apart. Where is the love between us? Callus is your _son_. What can he have said that you can’t look past this? He’s half your age.” He held his hand out towards Fenris.

“Please, love,” he pleaded. “Please sit down.”

The elf sat down, glaring as he did it. He looked to the others before speaking on what had been bothering him for a while. “Fine, you want this out in the open? I’ve been resentful of being in this damn house for a while. Anytime I want to leave lately, it's a problem. When we lived in Skyhold, I could be gone for three days, almost a week and it wasn’t an issue. Now when I want some space to clear my head and think, it's an issue.” Fenris glanced at his son, hurting after the hateful things that had been said. “As for you Callus, you said you can’t forgive me except with time? It goes both ways, I heard you when you said you’d wished I’d left you in Tevinter.” 

Invictus reached over and tried to calm Fenris with a few gentle words; but wasn’t sure if the fighter could be calmed with how things were going.

Pin was staring at her brother, anger flashing in her eyes. “You said _what_ to Father?” she exclaimed loudly. “How dare you!”

Callus was hunched over. “I was wrong. I was angry, and hurting. You’d accused me of raping Hal, and that... that hurt. It hurt bad. But if you want your space, you’ll have it.” He glanced up at them all. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but... Krem has asked me to join the Chargers. I’ve... accepted.” He glanced at Zevran , then Pin, and finally his father. “I think it’s for the best. I need to find who _I_ am, instead of always butting heads with you because we’re too alike, Father. I need to find my own way.”

“Callus... please... no, you can’t -” began Pin, but Callus cut her off with an apologetic look.

“We’re not kids, Pin. We’ll be nineteen this summer. We can’t stay here forever, and... I need to do this. Krem and I spoke in Skyhold and... some of the things he said, about when he joined the Chargers, finding out who he really was... it made sense.”

Zevran stared at Callus then slowly nodded. “I have taught you as much as I can. Certainly, you could best me in a fight. Your father? Perhaps, perhaps not. But I think you need to learn who Callus truly is before I can teach you any more. I release you, my apprentice.”

“Thank you,” whispered Callus.

“But... when?” whispered Pin.

“Midsummer’s Eve, Krem said,” Callus shrugged. “That’s when they enroll all the new recruits. The Chargers are much bigger than they used to be; Krem said things are very different now. I’d be based out of Skyhold - Krem reckons I wouldn’t even be sent out with my unit for at least six months or more.”

Fenris felt his claws extend into the arm of the chair before he caught himself. “Fine Callus, if that’s what you want, to spite me.” he said flatly, his gaze had gone cold. 

“Father, I’m not doing this to spite anyone,” replied Callus with a sigh. “I’m doing this because what is there here for me? What good are my blades here? You knew I wouldn’t stay here forever. And I’m not a farmhand; I’d be wasted working for any of the local farmers.”

He looked at his father. “Why can’t you be happy for me?” he whispered.

Pin watched them both unhappily.

“If I thought you were doing it for a good reason maybe I could scrape up some happiness. I won’t interfere. I hope you do well,” Fenris said, rubbing his eyes to keep some control and not let them see him get further upset. 

“Is there anything else we need to talk about?” he finally asked when no one spoke up. 

Anders stared at Fenris for a moment before wrenching his gaze to Callus. “Cal, I just want to wish you the best of luck,” he said quietly. “Come talk to me later and I’ll make sure you have a stock of potions and things to keep you going. I think you’ll do both Zevran and your father proud.” He smiled, a little self-consciously. “And... I’m going to miss you. You’re my step-son, after all. I hope you won’t mind if I get a little tearful when you go?”

Callus gave him a watery smile. “Stop it,” he tried to joke. “This is already going to be pretty hard!” He glanced back to Fenris. “I never hated you, Father,” he said quietly. “I was just very angry. And... and I really hope you get the space you need.”

Anders regarded Fenris thoughtfully. “For my part, I’m sorry if you felt... well... trapped, love,” he said slowly. “What can we do to give you the space you need?”

“I’m too angry and hurting to give you an answer right now,” Fenris admitted as he sat there stiffly, arms folded and leg bouncing as if he wanted to go then and there. He didn’t look up at his son, he couldn’t find it in him to believe he wasn’t hated, not at the moment.

Anders winced slightly. “Love... do you want to talk about this later?” he asked softly.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t have an answer right now,” Fenris said with a glance to Invictus, who had been quiet during the argument with Callus and the snit Fenris was in now.

“Anders, let’s just visit this later please?” Invictus asked softly before turning to Arden and Hal. “So what is it you want then? Are you going back to your old life? Going to just go and let people think you’ve both been absconded with on the way to the Conclave?” 

Arden shook his head. “No. I have no right to think of myself as Grand Enchanter,” he replied. “I’ll resign it immediately - Fiona will lead far better than I can.” He looked towards Hal with a wistful look. “You’re right,” he said softly. “There’s a sickness in me - but I don’t deserve you. But... if you’ll have me... I swear I will do my best to deal with this. I never want to hurt anyone else again.”

“We’ll work on it together,” said Hal. “Sebastian took so much from you - but I know this goes further back. We’ll find an answer, Arden.”

“Hopefully you can work it out,” said Invictus. “If anyone can forgive me after all I did in Kirkwall, there might be hope for you. I guess the last question is where do you go from here? I don’t think it will work having you live here Arden, not after you nearly killed Zevran. But neither of you can up and go anywhere just yet.” He glanced around at the others.

“Do we let them stay for a bit longer until they know where they are going?” he asked, even as he had to nudge Fenris to get the elf to look at him. 

Anders stared hard at Arden. “If you stay, then you will subject yourself to my healing,” he said firmly. “Without reservation. You allow me to use my healing to correct any deviation I may find in your brain, and you commit to changing. Can you do that?”

Arden stared at Anders. “I will submit to you completely,” he whispered. “I want to be healed. I don’t care how painful it is. Just... don’t let me hurt anyone anymore.”

“I really don’t want you here but if Anders is taking over your care you may stay, if and only if Zevran will allow it since you harmed him the most,” Vic said with a glance to the elf. 

Zevran pondered, his eyes on Arden. Finally he nodded slowly. “If he submits utterly to Anders and Anders will vouch for him? Then yes,” he answered.

“I vouch for him,” Anders said firmly. “I will answer for him.”

“That leaves you Fenris, what do you say?” Vic asked.

“I don’t want him here either, but I concede to what you all decide, though if he hurts any of you again, I will murder him, slowly,” the elven fighter said as he stared down the slight blond. 

Arden returned his gaze. “Agreed,” he whispered softly. “If I should hurt anyone again, then please kill me. You’d kill a mad dog that bit, after all.”

“Arden -” began Hal with a stricken look, but fell silent at a glance from Arden.

“I will stay in what was my room originally,” said Arden. “I will come out only when Anders states I may, and only then. I will submit utterly to Anders. Should I breach this, then I will submit to Fenris for whatever judgement he sees fit,” he finished, looking to the elf.

“No,” said Hal firmly. “If you breach it... then I will deal with you. Unless Zevran prefers to...” He stared at the blond elf, his expression blank.

Zevran arched an eyebrow. “Very well. If Arden fails to submit to Anders, if any here feel he has transgressed, then I and my knives will exact punishment. Is that acceptable?”

Arden stared at him, ashen, then nodded. “I submit,” he answered.

“Yes,” drawled Zevran. “I fear that may be part of the problem.”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole after what you said to me. Do as you all need to regarding your mage,” Fenris said as he forced himself to remain there with most of the talk done.

“Invictus?” asked Hal hesitantly. “May we... stay?”

“Yes, if you wish. Now I think we’re all talked out and I could use a drink or five after all this,” Vic said tiredly. 

Hal rose to his feet and extended a hand to Arden. “Let’s go to my room,” he said gently. “We need to talk.”

Arden rose to his feet, head bowed, and followed docilely as Hal led him from the room.

Anders slumped in his chair. “If there’s any wine, I could really use a glass,” he said plaintively. “My heart is racing and it hurts. Maker. Are we done?”

“Yes, if I may be excused I’d like to go to my office.” Fenris said sullenly.

“We are done, _carissimi_ ,” nodded Zevran.

The elven warrior left without a glance back at them, heading into his office and lying on the couch, wishing that they hadn’t known the truth of what Hal had done. He’d have given anything to have the memories of the last couple months gone from his mind. 

To his surprise, he was left alone. He heard Hal and Arden passing by his office at one point, the redhead coaxing the blond mage to follow him. Later, he heard Invictus and Anders helping Zevran to their room. Later still, he heard Pin and Callus bid each other goodnight, both tearful and withdrawn.

And then all was silent, and he was truly alone. 

 

***

 

“You weren’t kidding about the whole ‘submission’ thing, were you?” joked Arden weakly. He flexed one wrist against the rope binding it to the bedpost.

Anders spared him a brief glance as he finished tying Arden’s right ankle to another bedpost. “I warned you that this isn’t going to be anything quick, easy or pleasant, Arden,” he said quietly. “I need to probe through your brain fairly deeply, and you’re likely to struggle involuntarily. I don’t want to risk you hurting either yourself or me, particularly as whilst I’m doing this I’ll be oblivious to everything around me.” He straightened. “Or we can not do this, you and Hal go your own way together, and nothing ever changes for you. Your choice.”

“No - no, I’ll... I’ll go through with it,” said Arden shakily.

Anders stared at him then nodded. “One final condition,” he said.

Arden nodded hesitantly. “Whatever it takes,” he said quietly.

“I’m going to have to gag you, because there’s no way I’m going to force anyone in this house to listen to you if you start screaming. I’ll have Hal monitoring your consciousness levels whilst I’m working, but I don’t see why he should be subjected to you screaming either. He’s had to handle quite enough of your distress already without being subjected to that, don’t you think?”

Arden swallowed hard, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Anders nodded grimly, then leaned over and firmly tied the gag in place.

Arden immediately had to fight the surge of fear that rose inside him; as he felt his heart start to race and his breathing quicken, he kept having to remind himself that this was not Starkhaven and Anders was not Sebastian.

Then Anders touched his fingers to Arden’s forehead, and all he could see was brilliant white, and it felt like his skull was being split in two, and all awareness narrowed down to that pain.

He tried to scream.

 

***

 

“I don’t hear anything,” said Pin as she glanced up at the ceiling, before glancing at Zevran. “That’s... good, right?”

Zevran stared down at his leg as she gently poured healing magic into his leg. “I do not know of such things,” replied the Antivan. “Though I think perhaps Anders may be one of very few healers able to do what he hopes to accomplish.”

Fenris glanced up from his book at their chatter, wisely keeping the rude things that came to his mind to himself. He was unused to the feel of his daughter’s magic; though it wasn’t unpleasant, it wasn’t what he was used to. “Anders kept me alive more than his share of times, I’m not surprised he can do things like that,” he said. 

“Hal told me that apparently healing on a mage’s brain is a very delicate task, that if the healer isn’t careful then the patient can too easily become Tranquil - and that when he watched Anders heal Dorian of a head wound it was the first time he’d ever seen such delicate work for himself,” said Pin. “He -”

She broke off at the exact same moment as Fenris felt the unmistakable tug of Anders’ magic being wielded - almost stronger than he’d ever felt before. She turned and stared at her father. “You feel it too?” she whispered.

“Yes, and I’d rather not think about it,” Fenris said with a shudder he couldn’t hide. 

Zevran was staring at Pin’s hands where they rested upon his leg. “It is a disquieting thing to see you both react to something I cannot feel,” he murmured. “The only time I have ever felt magic touch my mind, it was blood magic. And I would give a great deal never to feel another touch my mind again.”

“As would I, and I’m sure Pin feels the same way. The things done ...no, I can’t talk about this or I’ll fall into despair and I know I’m unpleasant to be around when in a mood,” Fenris said as he gave up on reading the book and moved closer to take one of Zevran’s hands. 

Pin couldn’t repress a shudder. “I felt that quite enough to last me forever,” she agreed. She tried to focus back on Zevran’s leg. “I think that’s all the inflammation dealt with, Zevran. The bone’s started to knit at last, but I’ve left that alone - Master Anders says the bone will heal stronger if left to heal naturally. Are you in any further discomfort?”

“Far less than I was, thank you, my dear,” smiled Zevran. 

“Master Anders has been showing me how to brew a potion for your morning pain,” she went on. “I’ll bring you a flask after dinner this evening - it should lessen the pain when you wake in the morning.”

“Your daughter is very good to me, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran smiled to Fenris.

“She’s pretty great,” Fenris said with a grin for his child. “Even if she was a little wild cat when she first came to us,” he added with that same grin so she’d know he was teasing. 

“Father!” she protested, blushing - though her smile was pleased. “I’m just lucky you didn’t give up on me altogether. I was such a prickly brat when Cal and I arrived at Skyhold - but I’m glad you did give me another chance.”

“I’m glad you let me in finally, even though you thought I’d waited until you were half-awake you scamp. I can’t blame you, I was worse when I took up with Invictus.” Fenris was happy they could joke and tease without her thinking he was serious, though it had taken a while to get there. 

Pin dropped her gaze to the splint and padding in her hands as she started to splint and bandage Zevran’s leg again slowly. “Father... if Invictus was able to look past that with you - and if you were able to do the same with me... can you not also give Callus another chance?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes imploring. “It’s killing me to see you two hurting each other like this. He so desperately wants to make you proud of him, but now he’s afraid you want nothing further to do with him.”

The older elf’s expression closed off as soon as she mentioned her brother. “He hates me and it's really hard to think he cares after he threatened to kill me, how he thinks I just ‘go away’ because I’m a coward unable to face things. Why should I try, Pin? He leaves when I enter a room, and only sits at dinner with us because you ask him to,” Fenris said. 

“He doesn’t hate you!” cried Pin. “Father, he leaves because you turn your back on him the moment you lay eyes on him, and he dreads dinner because he can’t stand to see how you stare through him as though he weren’t even there! Father, he apologised to you, he _said_ he doesn’t hate you - why is it so much easier for you to believe your own son hates you than to believe he loves you, is sorry, that he wants nothing more than a word, a look, _some_ kind of affection from his own father?” There were tears in her eyes as she stared pleadingly at him.

“Don’t cry Pin, please.” Fenris rubbed a thumb over her cheek to brush away tears that fell. “I find it hard to believe he loves me; even before things went to the Void he spoke to me as if I were merely in his way, that I wasn’t needed or wanted as his father so this isn’t one thing to break my heart. He’s made it clear that his feelings for Hal are not to be trifled with. It hurt me, and I have a very hard time letting go. One of my many flaws.”

“And are your feelings for Hal to be trifled with, _carissimi_?” said Zevran as he raised an eyebrow at the white-haired elf. “I seem to recall you made it quite clear to Dorian that your feelings regarding Invictus were also not to be trifled with.” He smiled slightly. “Now, surely it cannot be that same Dorian who you now refer to with such affection as _amicus_ , hmm?”

“Invictus is not my son, nor is Hal, _carissimi_ ,” Fenris replied with a glare for his husband before turning to Pin. “What will make you happy? Do you really wish to see us reconcile so badly?”

“She is the daughter of your blood, _carissimi_ ,” pointed out Zevran. “And Callus is your son, her brother. Why should she not wish to see you both reconciled once more? Were I and Anders at such loggerheads, would you not wish to see us make peace between us, simply because you love us both?”

Fenris looked to his husband with patience he didn’t know he possessed as he answered. “If you and Anders ever fought like this, I would wonder which one of you was an imposter. Comparing my husbands fighting to my problems with him, are not the same, love.” He tried not to sound bitter before turning to Pin once more. “Tell me Pin, what would you have of me then? Do you wish me to approach him, be kinder when we next sit to dinner?” 

“Talk to him, Father,” she pleaded. “Hear what he’s _actually_ saying and not merely what you _think_ he is saying! Actually _look_ at him. See the hurt in his eyes, the fear you’ll turn away from him.” She dropped her gaze to her hands as she let them fall to her lap. “Listen to him trying to cry quietly in his room when he thinks no-one else can hear him. He may be a man - but he is also young, as I am, and he still has need of his father’s love as much as I do.” 

“Only because you asked me, I just pray I am wrong in how I have reacted. It's hard Pin, when your heart is broken and you feel like nothing will fix it. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you with this.” He brushed a hand over his cheek, surprised at the wetness. “I hate crying when I’m like this, always have,” he tried to joke. 

Pin sniffed, then glanced to Zevran. “I think I’m all done, Master Zevran,” she said quietly. “And please don’t fight with Master Anders, because then Hal and I would have to patch you both up again.” She tried to smile. “It was bad enough when you had that fight with Invictus!”

Zevran laughed. “We were quite the pair, no? Me with my broken leg, he without even a staff!”

“I wish I could have stopped you both from fighting. At least I can pick you up and carry you until you calm down.” Fenris tried to laugh at the idea of putting Zevran over his shoulder and dragging him off the field.

“True, true. Anders would perhaps not fare so well, I think,” shrugged Zevran.

“I don’t want to upset him again like that, if for nothing else to avoid Ellowynne trying to fry me,” Fenris said before he rose to get them some tea and to settle himself. 

He glanced up just as he reached the kitchen and stopped. Callus was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over, hands clutching his head. As Fenris stared, the elven youth sniffed and lowered one hand to scrub at his face with it.

“ _Festis bei uno cana varum_ ,” muttered Callus to himself softly, unaware he was being watched. “What’s the use anymore? _Malum._ I try, and I try, but he hates me, Dumat. What am I to do? How do I make him see? Dumat, if ever You looked on me with favour, please... just....”

“I’m not so terrible as to be asking Dumat for help,” Fenris said as he paused, unsure if Callus would leave or not. 

Callus jumped, startled; his head whipped round and for a moment, Fenris saw a flash of fear - and yet also a terrible longing, before Callus ducked his head, hiding behind his wild black hair. “F-Father!” he stammered. “I... I’m sorry, I’ll just....” He was pushing himself to his feet and backing away, his eyes on the floor, like a slave caught sitting idle by his master.

“You’ll just what?” Fenris asked softly as he watched the boy, finally seeing some of what Pin had said. He wasn’t fully convinced that Callus was sorry but they hadn’t gotten things out in the open yet. 

Callus halted, uncertain, his eyes on the ground by Fenris’ feet. “I know you prefer your space, Father,” he said softly. “I - I don’t want to intrude. I’ll... I’ll leave you be, if....” Hesitantly he glanced up for a moment, staring at Fenris’ chest rather than meeting his gaze. “If... that be your wish, Father?” 

“You can call me by my name if you wish, and …” Fenris hesitated, that innate distrust he had trying to come through to make him just leave. “If you want, we can speak in my office. Only if you are able to do so, or we can talk after dinner.” 

At Fenris’ first words, a look of distress flashed across Callus’ face before he was able to master it and school his appearance to a neutral expression, but as Fenris continued, he lifted his head slightly - just enough for Fenris to see a faint look of hope in the youth’s eyes. “Can... can we talk now?” he asked in a small voice.

“If you like,” said the older elf with a sad look to his son. “Lead the way.”

Callus turned to go ahead, his back stiff and his head still bowed as he led the way to Fenris’ office. Once inside, he stood quietly as though awaiting Fenris’ permission to sit or speak.

“Maker, you look like I did, waiting on Danarius to give me permission. No wonder they hated it when I look like that,” Fenris said as he sat and motioned for Callus to do the same. “I’m not going to hit you, or yell...I hope,” he added, his gaze softening as he watched the boy move so carefully around him.

Callus sat gingerly, his back still ramrod straight and his head bowed. “I’m sorry, I... I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Fa - Fenris.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat as he caught himself.

“I’ll feel more comfortable if you stop sitting there like you’re expecting a beating,” Fenris said as he leaned back to watch his child. “If you were in the kitchen, you probably heard us talking.” 

Callus raised his eyes as high as Fenris’ chest before lowering them again and nodding. “Y-yes, I heard you,” he agreed. “I wasn’t deliberately eavesdropping, I just... I couldn’t just sit in my room, wondering what was going on in the next room, and I... I didn’t want to intrude on you, Pin and Master Zevran.”

“Well, what do we do now Callus? You heard me, and Pin, so you have an idea of how I feel. I need to hear from you what she said, is that true?” Fenris asked. 

Callus gulped audibly, and then slowly he lifted his head to meet his father’s gaze. “It’s true,” he said shakily. “All of it’s true. I don’t hate you, I swear it - but it hurts when you turn away from me, when you stare through me as though I weren’t there - though that is easier to bear than when you look upon me as though I were less than dirt.” He stared at Fenris, his eyes dark with pain, and then abruptly threw himself to his knees at Fenris’ feet, head bowed. “Please... please let me call you Father!” he pleaded. “Don’t hate me, I beg you! Just - just give me a word, some sign that you don’t regret my existence! Am I so beneath you now that you cannot even bear to look at me at dinner?”

“Callus! Get up right now and off your knees, you are not a slave - never, ever do that again!” The older elf had backed up as much as he could at his son’s action and felt like throwing up.

Callus lifted his head, his eyes red with tears, clearly struggling not to give way to sobbing. “I’m not doing this as a slave,” he whispered. “I’m doing this as your _son_. I _need_ you. Please.”

“Don’t do this - don’t bow or beg me like this; stop it, Callus! Get up and face me - you’re not a slave and I won’t have my children begging me; stop it, please,” Fenris whispered as he fought against the urge to run, to perhaps call Dorian and ask for help because he didn’t know what to do with this from his child.

Callus lurched to his feet and backed away to fall into his chair once more. “How else was I finally to have you look upon me and have you call me yours?” he whispered. “Is that what it takes? Then I would have done it days ago - I would have done it at our meeting, if it meant you would actually look at me, hear me. Actually see me as I am instead of this... great disappointment to you.”

“Stop, Callus, stop it!” Fenris yelled as he tried to keep from running out of the office. “Stop...this isn’t what it takes, just don’t do that anymore!” He got up and poured them a drink and handed it to the younger elf with a trembling hand. “I...don’t hate you, I was sad, hurting so much but I don’t hate you.” he whispered.

Callus stared into his glass. “Then... I may still call you Father?” he asked plaintively.

“If it's that important to you, then yes. It doesn’t matter - call me what you like; just never, ever beg me like that again; it's too much and I got you both out of Tevinter so you’d never be property or slaves.” Fenris was shaking as he stared at his son, so much like him yet not.

“I was afraid I’d leave here without ever hearing a kind word from you,” replied Callus quietly. “I truly meant what I said regarding the Chargers - I didn’t sign up to spite you or anything like that, Father. But I have been a slave almost my whole life, and I’m no longer a child - but I still don’t know just what manner of man I really am. I think I need to move out, learn to stand on my own two feet, put these skills Master Zevran has taught me to some good use. And maybe then I can come back as a man you can be proud of, Father.”

“It was hard not to feel as if you did it from spite, Callus; not when you spoke to me as you had. I...hope you do well, and I _am_ proud of you. I’ve been angry and taking it out on you because my heart was broken. I’m sorry, son,” Fenris said quietly. 

Callus lifted his head to stare at his father. “You’re... proud of me? You truly mean it?”

“Truly,” nodded Fenris.

He was rewarded by the smile that spread across his son’s face as Callus’ eyes lit up - first with surprise, and then with real warmth.

“Thank you, Father,” said Callus softly. “That means more to me than you could ever know.”

Fenris answered his smile with his own before pulling him into a hug.


	51. Chapter 51

After lunch, Fenris retreated to his office for time to think. The more he reflected on how he’d reacted to Callus and the things he’d said, or done the worse he felt. Especially after he recalled that night sitting outside with Dorian, the pain in his friend's voice, how raw he was about his father not showing him affection or doing one thing to show he was loved. He stared at the ring that would let him call his _amicus_ for a while before slowly brushing a thumb over the dark stone. 

“Dorian?” he said quietly, half hoping the magister couldn’t talk, half hoping he was free. 

There was silence for a while, and then Dorian’s voice came through the ring. He sounded exhausted, his speech slurring a little. “Fenris? _Amicus_ , is all well with you?”

“No, but you sound tired my friend and .... I wish to speak of difficult things so maybe I can call back tomorrow?” Fenris offered.

There was a sound of rustling silk, and then Dorian coughed slightly. “No... I was merely dozing - it sounds like this is something important, _amicus_. Do you wish me to come to you? I...” Dorian hesitated a moment, then his voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I have been afraid for you all. This whole affair of time magic and Arden - I can’t begin to even think what a toll this must have taken on you all.”

“Can I come to you please?” Fenris hated how he sounded, small and scared to talk with his friend.

“I... certainly, _amicus_. I’m... well, I’m in bed, actually, but give me a moment to grab a robe. Or...” He chuckled quietly. “Well, I think you’ve seen pretty much all of me, haven’t you? Come over. I have wine, or brandy, and.... well, frankly I’d welcome the company. Meneris is out talking to Krem about some slaver activity just up the coast and he’s left me all alone.” Fenris swore he could practically hear the pout in Dorian’s voice.

“Sure, be there in a moment.” Fenris closed their connection, and in a moment was in Dorian’s room, tugging off his tunic before joining the magister in bed. 

“Thanks for letting me come to you _amicus_ , sorry I disturbed your rest.” Fenris said as he looked over his friend, his mind trying to deter him from what he’d came for, reminding him that it had been a while since they’d had a tumble. 

Dorian was sprawled across the bed, naked save for the gold rings upon his fingers; his hair was a little in disarray, and it was evident he had been fairly deeply asleep when Fenris called him through the ring. His grey eyes looked drowsy, though as Fenris climbed into the bed he sat up with a smile before reaching for the wine bottle on the bedside table.

“It’s no matter; I am awake now, _amicus_. Come, drink wine and tell me what’s wrong.” He poured a glass of wine and handed it to Fenris before pouring another for himself.

“Kind of hard to concentrate when you look so damn tempting,” Fenris said as he took the wine and drank quickly to try and ease his nerves a little. He actually ran his fingers down Dorian’s chest for a bit as he considered how to start. The elven warrior kept touching his friend as he finally spoke. “I’m a terrible father, I’ve hurt Callus and ...I couldn’t help but think of our talk that night after getting Anders back from nearly being hung.” 

Dorian had been relaxing back against the pillows, writhing a little under Fenris’ fingers, his eyes drifting half closed; but at Fenris’ words he opened them again and lifted his head to stare at the elf with a faint look of trepidation and vulnerability in his eyes. “Yes, that....” He swallowed. “That was... was a difficult time for us all, I fear.”

“Yes...and I...I’m so sorry,” Fenris said before setting his wine aside and stretching out next to his friend. “I’m not making sense am I?”

Dorian took a hasty gulp of his wine, his eyes darting away as he sat up. “No, I... I think I understand. You... you fear the same thing happening between yourself and Callus as happened between my - my father, Halward, he - I never -” He broke off and stared up at the ceiling, blinking his eyes rapidly as he swallowed again. “I’m... I’m sorry, I know it’s been two years now but... there was so much left unsaid between us, and - and I regret that I never had the chance to - to -” He turned away and hastily downed the rest of his wine before reaching for the bottle.

“Dorian? I...I shouldn’t have come to you like this when you’re tired and half-awake. How about I just shut up and go back to touching you? It's better when I’m quiet anyway,” Fenris said as he watched the magister and kicked himself for putting his woes on the other man. 

Dorian poured himself another glass, his hands trembling slightly. “Forgive me, _amicus_ , I... I should be over this by now, I know, but... matters have been rather fraught of late and I find my nerves are decidedly on edge. This matter with Hal and Arden - and we the only ones who know what truly happened... Dumat, I had hoped with Corypheus dead and Solas gone, things might settle a little.”

“I shouldn’t have come to you when I could hear how tired you were Dorian, I’m not being a good friend, let alone acting as your _amicus_. Time doesn’t matter when it comes to loss, don’t say that about over losing your father.” Fenris let his hand rest on the other man’s heart, thumb stroking slowly as he considered his next words. “Mythal granted me a boon, regaining my memories taken by the ritual that burned lyrium into me, and when...I recalled my mother, and knew I could never see her again, never hear her call me Leto, or even Fenris, or yell at me for always fighting with the other slave boys, I broke down and it's been years Dorian. Time doesn’t matter and don’t force yourself to get over it.” 

Dorian stared at him then set his wineglass aside as he lay back against the pillows, his eyes never leaving Fenris. “I... suppose you’re right,” he said quietly. “It rankles that I cannot see him one last time, to make right all that was unspoken between us - all those years of pain and misunderstandings. But... I cannot go back to the past. Not that far. The attempt alone would kill me; what would be the use?” He turned his eyes back to the ceiling and sighed. “I must simply live with my regret.”

“The pain will ease with time, but don’t speak of getting over it. I wish I could ease your pain, I’m sorry _amicus_ ,” Fenris said before putting an arm around Dorian’s middle, and nuzzling against him. “Sometimes...I wish I was a better person, because I wouldn’t have been such an ass to Callus. Seeing the pain in his eyes, hearing him beg for a bit of affection undid me. It took Pin to make me see what I was doing to him. I felt guilty, so guilty as I thought of our talk that night. I guess, it's why I called you, I felt the need to apologize to you too.” 

As Dorian lay there, listening, he bit his lip and a pained look haunted his eyes. “ _Amicus_ ,” he said softly. “I... I don’t know what to say. You don’t need to apologise to me, but... thank you.” He glanced away as he continued, “Would... would you like me to talk to Callus, perhaps?”

The elf looked up to his friend and blinked, unsure if his son would listen or not. “If...you are able to, and he says yes that would be alright.” Fenris tried to keep from crying again, not so soon after talking with Callus, but he couldn’t hold back entirely. 

Dorian rolled over on his side to face Fenris, reaching out towards him. “Oh _amicus_ ,” he said softly. “It will be alright. There is much love between you and your children.”

“I’m still worried Cal hates me, a little for being so hard on him. I hurt him so badly Dori, how can I be a good father when I can be so cruel to my own?” Fenris gave up holding back tears as he felt his friend pulling him over and trying to comfort him. 

“All you can do is do your best,” said Dorian sadly as he rubbed soothing circles over Fenris’ back. The lyrium tingled against his palm but he tried to ignore it. “You were able to talk with him, which is far more than I ever achieved with my own father.”

That made the elf move back and look at his friend. “Forgive me, I’m being selfish and hurting you too. Can we just...lie here and I’ll just shut up, you can even gag me if I keep talking,” Fenris offered with a smile.

Dorian just laughed and held Fenris close. “Why would I do that, _amicus_? Why would I wish to be bereft of your voice? You have no idea what your voice can do to me, you know.” He gave a low chuckle, and Fenris felt the magister’s cock stir against his thigh.

“Because I am fucking stupid sometimes and it's better when I’m quiet,” Fenris said as he finally reached out and resumed touching his _amicus_. “You know sometimes I want...need to be taken a bit out of my head.” 

“I know the feeling, Fenris,” murmured Dorian as he buried his face in Fenris’ hair. 

“I know, I remember the happy look you had on your face when you and Meneris propositioned me,” Fenris said as he cuddled closer for a while. “Mind if I take off my pants? I feel a little overdressed,” he asked softly. Dorian’s answering chuckle was positively filthy as his hands slid down Fenris’ sides then gently pushed the elf’s pants down far enough to free Fenris’ cock.

“My, my,” Dorian laughed softly. “That _did_ look uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, a bit.” Fenris rolled over and kicked his pants off and arched his back, eyes on Dorian’s as he took the mage’s hand and nipped at his fingers. “We never had fun in my office that day, I think we can make up for it now?” He smiled at his _amicus_ and tried to get him to pull his hair, to touch him. He gasped as he felt a sharp tug to the ponytail he’d thrown his hair into, a low moan that turned into a yelp when he heard Meneris’ voice.

“Well, well, well. I leave you alone for a while and I come back to this lovely scene in our bed. What’s all this amatus?” Meneris said as he approached them, sliding his belt free as he took in how good they looked together. 

The larger elf eyed the belt in his hand with some trepidation, even scooting away from him as he approached. “Mind dropping the belt? It's ...not something I want near me,” Fenris asked.

Meneris wasn’t sure what bothered the other elf but he dropped the belt before climbing on the bed with them, and kissing Dorian before turning to their friend. “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I don’t know, I thought you’d tell me to go honestly,” Fenris said as he sat back against the headboard, tugging a sheet over himself.

“Why would I do that? You and Dorian have permission to play, and I have to admit you two look fantastic together,” Meneris said, curious as to the other man’s shyness.

“I’m not your husband, and I won’t be in the way of you at home. I can see myself out.” Fenris looked for his clothes, eager to go and let them have their fun.

“Stop moving and get back in this bed,” Meneris barked, pleased when the warrior did as he was told, staring at both of them. “That’s better, I knew you would be easy to lead if you ever took us up on our offer.” 

“I thought you didn’t want me like that, just to, um... well.” Fenris made a gesture between them, unsure of himself and how things had changed with him coming home. 

“No one said you’d get to fuck me, or that I’d fuck you. But I recognize that need in you, same as Dori at times, to give in. I mean look at how well you obeyed me just now. At most, I might want your mouth on me at some point but only if you’re both comfortable with it. If not, I’ll get taken care of later. Question is, do you and Dorian want to play like that now or should I leave you two alone for a while?” Meneris felt Dorian’s arms around him as they waited. 

“It’s not solely my decision, whatever Dorian wants I’ll abide with. I can go home too, I did just run off without telling them anything,” Fenris said as he watched them, watching him. 

“ _Amicus_ , the whole point wasn’t to make you uncomfortable,” said Dorian, regarding Fenris thoughtfully. “I’m happy to play however you’d like. You _have_ mentioned not being able to scratch that certain itch since lacking... well, someone to dominate you.” He glanced to Meneris, then back to the elf. “Meneris is... _very_ good at that, just with voice alone, as perhaps you might have noticed. But if you’re uncomfortable with that, then it can just be the two of us? Though, if you left no note, perhaps we should let one of your husband's know where you are - just to avoid causing undue worry?” He smiled sympathetically at Fenris.

“What would _you_ like to do, _amicus_?” he asked.

Fenris looked down, unsure with the change in things. “I... don’t know if I am up for the three of us, I hadn’t even planned on playing with Dorian, things just kicked off before you got here.”

“I can leave you both to it then, it's clear you’re not in the right headspace Fenris. You two have fun, I’ll be back later?” Meneris said as he slipped off the bed and headed for the door.” 

Dorian watched him go, then turned back to Fenris with a warm smile. “So, _amicus_ ,” he said gently. “What would you like?”

“Gentleness, that’s what I need after today, please _amicus_?” Fenris asked softly.

Dorian leaned forward and cupped Fenris’ cheek gently with his hand.

“Yes, that I can do,” he agreed, his voice quiet, before bending to kiss Fenris.

 

***

Anders reeled back and managed to catch himself on the arm of the nearby chair before he could fall. Hal glanced up at him worriedly, but Anders waved him away.

“That’s all I can do for now,” he gasped. “Maker, but.... it’s such a mess in there.”

Hal stared down at Arden. The blond mage’s chest heaved with ragged breaths sucked in around the gag; his eyes were closed, hair plastered to his face with perspiration.

“Let him sleep,” Anders ordered, and Hal nodded; touching two fingers to Arden’s forehead, he sent a brief sleep spell into the bound man, and Arden slumped unconscious.

“You can untie and ungag him,” Anders went on. “He’ll need to rest and recover somewhat before I can do any more. I need a drink.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed himself wearily up out of his chair and headed back downstairs without a backwards glance at his unconscious patient.

He made his way to the parlour and made straight for the drinks cabinet.

“Bit early for a drink isn’t it love?” Vic asked as he watched Anders. 

“Not after the mess I’ve just been dealing with,” replied Anders, his voice shaking slightly. He reached for the brandy and splashed a couple of fingers into a glass, the bottle rattling slightly against the rim of the tumbler.

“Want me to pour then? You seem a bit shaky if that noise is any indication of how you’re feeling.” Vic got up to help his husband, worried for how rattled he was.

“No, I...I’ve got this, I’m alright,” said Anders hastily before setting the bottle down then turning to Invictus with an over-bright smile. “See? Fine!” He downed the brandy in one.

“Right, fine. I’ve known you too long to believe that Anders. I take it healing is more taxing than you expected?” Vic asked.

Anders lowered the glass and stared into it before nodding, slowly. “It... he... the damage inside is far worse than I’d expected. Old head wounds - and damage from when he was hung; must have been longer than those few seconds I -” He broke off and his fingers tightened on the glass, knuckles whitening, before he forced himself to go on. “Damage. It all left damage, scarred tissue, and - what’s there isn’t quite right. It’s hard enough healing head trauma in a mage when it’s fresh, but this? Maker, Vic, I have to wonder if this is beyond even me.” 

“It’s not, it's just going to take a bit longer than you thought. I have faith in you love, if anyone can heal this you can.” Vic reached out to caress his face, then took his other hand. 

Anders lifted his head to gaze at Invictus. “What I touched there... I don’t know how much I’ve helped him. It was... hard on all of us. This kind of healing... it’s painful for him, and I know it’s painful for Hal to see him go through this. And Hal is the one having to keep Arden awake through the whole thing. It’s... it feels like I’m punishing them both, even as I’m trying to help!” He stared at Invictus for a moment, and then he dropped his head and bit his lip.

“He consented didn’t he? Hal said he’d be there for him right? I think if he truly could not take it he would say so. Maybe ask before you do more work, check in and see if he can take it?” Vic offered as he pulled Anders to him. “Better yet, can you keep doing this?”

“I... I _think_ so,” Anders replied slowly. “Maker, I _have_ to. Seeing what a mess is in there - I cannot in all conscience walk away from this now, knowing just how bad it is. It would only deteriorate and worsen until he forgets himself entirely... senile long before what should have been his time. I’m a healer, and I would be unworthy to call myself that if I turned away now.”

“You will take care of yourself too, you can’t burn out trying to help. Remember what kinds of trouble we’ve gotten into because you put too much of yourself into helping others? Healer or no, we will not lose you to that,” Vic said firmly.

“I know,” Anders nodded. “But he cannot handle any more just yet in any case. He needs to rest and recover from today’s session. It will be a couple of days before he is capable of handling more just yet.” He sighed, and let himself relax against Invictus. “Sorry, love, I’m just... it was rather overwhelming, and I’m exhausted.”

“Do you want to take a nap with me? Maybe with Zevran too?” Vic offered, worried for the blond mage. 

“Maybe food first,” replied Anders slowly before he straightened. “That kind of healing takes quite a toll.” He smiled reassuringly at Invictus. “But an early bedtime wouldn’t hurt.” He glanced around. “Where’s Fenris?”

“We have not seen him since you and Hal went upstairs,” replied Zevran. “He wished some alone time, perhaps? Maybe his office?” He glanced to Invictus.

“I guess?” Vic said with a glance upstairs. “You get settled and I’ll see if he wants to join us.” 

Zevran struggled up from his chair and reached for his crutches.

“Maker, Zev, wait - let me help-” began Anders as he hurried to Zevran’s side, but the Antivan waved him away. 

“ _Mi cuore_ , I must learn to manage for myself, yes?” he chided, giving Anders a stern look as the tall blond mage’s hands fell back to his sides and he ducked his head, chastened.

“Are you going with Anders or to check on Fenris? Either way, I’ll figure out what we can have for dinner and get you both something to tide you over until then.” Vic waited on one of them to make a decision. 

Zevran shook his head. “I am going to the kitchen,” he replied. “I cannot climb the stairs to Fenris’ office, alas.”

“Alright, you two get settled in the kitchen and I’ll see if he’s up to coming to dinner,” Vic said before vaulting up the stairs, worried for how much time the elf had been wanting to himself. 

“Fen?” he knocked again, and after no answer opened the door to find it empty. He went back down perplexed as to where the elf would have gone. 

“He’s not in his office and I haven’t seen Callus since their talk,” Vic said. 

Anders glanced up, worried, as he set a cup of tea down in front of Zevran. “That’s odd,” he said slowly. “Pin is outside in the garden with Ellowynne and Marian.” He straightened. “Seems the girls don’t need to wait for someone to make a portal for them anymore; someone at Skyhold has taught Marian.” 

“Well he can teleport anywhere he's been, but that doesn’t leave a lot of places. The Senate, though I can’t think why he’d go there, or Skyhold. But wouldn't he tell us and not just go?” Vic wondered as he moved around the kitchen.

“He didn’t leave a note - at least, not in here,” said Anders slowly. “But... it’s not like him to go and not at least leave a note - he should know we’d worry!”

Zevran stretched out a hand to lay it on Ander’s arm. “Easy, my heart,” he said softly.

“Relax Zevran, I can always pop over to Skyhold and see what’s going on or get the ring Dorian gave us,” Vic said before getting plates. “Will you call the kids in?”

Anders looked to Zevran, who gave him a nod and patted his arm; the blond mage cast a worried look at Invictus before turning and heading out of the back door which led down into the garden.

Zevran sighed. “He is always more unsettled when tired from healing,” he said quietly as he shook his head. “I am sure our _carissimi_ is fine, but perhaps a quiet word to Dorian would not go amiss, hmm?”

“Of course, I’ll be back in a moment.” Vic left for their room so he could reach Dorian. “Hey, are you free Dorian?”

There was no answer for a moment, then a soft chime as the stone activated and then Invictus could hear ragged panting. “In...Invictus?” gasped Dorian. “My word - you startled me!”

“Ah, sorry if I interrupted you and Meneris.” Vic sounded sheepish and a bit envious. He could hear the sounds of someone else panting in the background.

“Not quite interrupted, though if you’d called a few moments earlier it would have been another matter,” replied Dorian with a breathless chuckle. “Though wrong elf I’m afraid. You’ll be wanting Fenris, I take it?”

“Yes, we wondered where he was since he didn’t leave a note,” Vic replied tersely.

“Fenris?” Dorian’s voice sounded further away from the stone. “Your absence has been noticed, _amicus_ ; I believe your husband would like a word.”

 

The elf’s voice was tired but somewhat content as he took Dorian’s hand. “Hi, Vic.”

“Having fun love?” Vic sounded tense and relieved.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t leave a note...things went a little differently than what I’d planned when I popped over to see Dorian. I’m in trouble aren’t I?” Fenris asked. 

“Let’s see... you disappeared without word or note, and we just spent long enough searching for you that Anders is probably on the verge of having kittens unless Pin and Ellowyne have distracted him,” replied Invictus quietly. “He’s exhausted from healing our unwelcome guest. So what do you think, love?”

“Should I come home?” Fenris asked quietly.

Invictus exhaled slowly, trying very hard to not imagine the hangdog look Fenris likely had from the sound of his voice. “That depends,” he replied slowly. “Were you planning on coming home tonight?”

“I wasn’t sure, maybe?” Fenris said as he glanced at Dorian questioningly. “Will you be angry if I stay until tomorrow?”

“No...” said Invictus quietly. “But you’re going to explain that to Anders.” He turned and headed back down the stairs towards the kitchen. He twisted the ring off his finger as he entered the kitchen, and held it out to Anders who looked at it, startled, as Pin ushered Wynne in.

“Our husband,” explained Invictus, before turning away to start dinner.

“Love?” asked Anders, as he stared at the ring. “Fenris?”

“Hi, I guess Vic told you where I was?” he replied.

Anders glanced, bewildered, at Invictus who mouthed _Dorian_ at him.

“You’re... in Skyhold?” Anders’ voice sounded startled yet relieved.

“Yes, I came to talk to Dorian. I hope I’m not in trouble for going,” Fenris replied. 

“Trouble?” echoed Anders, sounding a little bewildered now. “No... we were just worried when we couldn’t find you, love. It’s not like you to go without at least leaving a note. Did... did something happen between you and Callus? Pin says he went off down towards the village and he’s not come back yet. Is... everything alright?”

“We...had a difficult talk but things might be better soon. I needed to talk to Dorian. I’m sorry for just going.” Fenris sounded upset, but Vic couldn't tell why.

“No, it’s alright,” replied Anders as he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the countertop with a relieved sigh. “Maker knows I was oblivious to anything for several hours anyway.” He chuckled, a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry love, I’m such a worry-wart - as long as your safe, that’s all. Are you coming home for dinner?”

Zevran had turned in his seat to arch an eyebrow at the oblivious Anders as the mage apologised, then glanced to Invictus who merely shook his head at Zevran before turning back to the food prep. 

“I might, I hadn’t planned very far past coming to talk to Dorian. Will you be upset if I don’t? I don’t want you angry with me,” Fenris said

“Angry?” Anders blinked. “Do I - do I sound angry?” He glanced to Invictus, who turned back to look at Anders, then the ring.

“No, but I did just go without saying anything. Let me talk to Dorian and if I’ll be back for dinner, may I bring him with me?” Fenris said with a look to his friend.

Anders shrugged at Invictus. “Room for one more at the table, love?” he asked.

“You know Dorian is always welcome here, unlike our other guest. I”ll set another place, if they’re coming they should do so soon,” Vic said before he turned for another setting. 

“It’s fine, love,” Anders replied to Fenris. “But best hurry or yours will be cold!”

Dorian’s chuckle could be heard in the background. “We shall not keep the chef or our hosts waiting!” he called.

“Be there in a few moments, love you,” Fenris said before swiping a finger over Dorian’s ring. He looked to the magister with a sheepish grin. “You should probably leave a note so we don’t repeat my stupidity.” 

“Indeed,” nodded Dorian as he rolled off the bed and reached for a bowl of water so they could clean themselves up.

It was perhaps ten minutes later that they stepped out of the portal into the sparring ring; as the portal snapped closed behind them, Fenris turned towards the house in time to see what looked like Callus disappearing around the side of the house.

“Mythal, please let us get through dinner without any fighting,” Fenris mumbled as they headed inside. 

They found everyone seated apart from Callus; no sooner had they taken their places however than the youth appeared and slid into his place next to his sister with a mumbled apology.

Fenris gave his son a warm smile before digging into his meal. He was quiet as he ate, glad for peace at the table for change. 

Hal was sitting staring down at his plate, seemingly dreaming or lost in thought until Anders leaned over and gently touched his shoulder; the redheaded mage visibly startled before he returned Anders’ glance before blushing then taking up his knife and fork to start eating. Pin was watching him with a small frown, but as Hal started eating she turned her attention back to her own food.

“How was everyone’s day after I left?” Fenris asked, tired of all the silence.

Pin looked up and turned to Marian. “Marian’s mastered the portal spell - and Master Parcival says he thinks I’ve almost got the hang of it myself, Father!” she grinned.

Marian shrugged and nodded. “You’re almost there, Pin - you nearly had it this afternoon.”

“That’s marvellous!” exclaimed Dorian delightedly. “I’m sure soon we’ll all be able to cast it - well, all us mages.” He glanced at the others with a smile.

“Perhaps not all,” shrugged Anders quietly, not looking up from his plate.

“Love, do you want to learn it? I could teach you," Invictus offered.

Anders looked up with a lopsided smile. “I can’t,” he replied simply. “I just don’t have the affinity for that kind of magic. I never was much good at Force, love, you know that - and the portal spell draws on that as much as Spirit.” He glanced down at his plate. “It’s fine.”

“Damn, I wish I could teach you. Sorry, love," Vic said quietly.

“I can always take you where you need to go love," Fenris offered. 

“See?” said Anders, looking up with a smile. “I don’t need to be able to cast it - Fenris or one of you can take me anywhere I might need to be.”

“Well, _I_ can’t cast it yet - Uncle Vic, will you teach me?” asked Ellowynne.

“Hush, Imp, you’re too young yet!” scolded Pin. “Master Parcival already told you - that’s advanced magic for the seniors!”

Ellowynne pouted.

“It will happen soon enough for you Imp," Fenris added. 

“Given what happened to that new guy, don’t be too eager,” warned Marian as she waggled a finger at Ellowynne. 

Anders glanced up. “New guy? You mean a new apprentice? What happened?”

Dorian groaned and shook his head. “The foolish boy wasn’t much older than Pin and Callus when they first arrived at Skyhold,” he sighed. “He had no business trying to learn portal magic. I still want to know which damned fool senior taught him, for certainly neither I nor Parcival did.”

“It certainly wasn’t me or Garrett, Master Pavus,” said Marian, her expression serious.

“What happened?” repeated Anders.

“Put himself in the infirmary,” replied Dorian tersely. “The portal only half formed and he basically repeated that little mishap that happened when Fenris and I brought you back from the road to Tevinter. Catapulted himself halfway across the courtyard into a wall. He’ll live, but it was a salutary lesson to all not to try certain magics before the senior enchanters deem one ready.”

Anders winced, as did Fenris and Hal.

“I remember that too well," Fenris said as he pushed his plate away. He glanced to Dorian then meaningfully at Callus before rising for another drink. 

“Yeah, portal magic is useful but damned dangerous if you lose your focus," Vic agreed.

“Wait there, Father - I’ll fetch your drink,” said Callus hastily as he sprang up from his seat. “You too, Master Zevran!” He dashed from the room as Zevran looked up, a blank look on his face.

A moment later, he returned with a bottle of Antivan brandy. “I - I know you both enjoy this brandy, and I know there was none left. The village tavern had a couple of bottles though so....” He looked to his father, anxiously.

“That’s, thank you Callus. You didn’t have to do that, but I thank you.” Fenris gave him a smile before getting glasses for all of them, except Ellowynne. “Anyone else joining us, or is it just Zevran and I enjoying this gift?” 

“That’s very generous of you Callus,” smiled Dorian. He glanced to Fenris. “By all means, _amicus_.”

The others murmured thanks and nodded, all save for Hal who looked up and shook his head with an apologetic smile then went back to his food. Anders gave him a worried look, but nodded thanks to Fenris when the elf filled his glass.

Ellowynne pouted again until Pin leaned over and called up little wisps to dance around her water glass, darting in and out of the water and lighting it up different colours, which distracted her happily as the others reached for their glasses.

Invictus raised his glass to toast them all with a sly grin. “To family, and to those we love as such even if not related by blood.” He clinked his glass against Anders and took a sip. 

His toast was echoed by murmurs of “To family!” and the clinking of glasses.

As they sipped, Hal laid down his knife and fork. “Please excuse me,” he said softly before rising and heading for the door.

“Hal, you don’t have to go. You know you’re part of our family too," Fenris said, worried for the redhead.

Vic watched them, sipping his brandy as he wondered how things stood between the warrior and mage. 

Hal hesitated. “I... I should go check on Arden,” he said apologetically, before looking up to meet Fenris’ eye. “I’m sorry....” 

“Take him a plate then, if you are going to leave," Fenris said as he moved aside with a sigh. 

Hal stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze and gave a small nod. He returned to the table to put together a small plate of food, then retreated, his face pale.

Pin watched him go, then glanced at her brother, who wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“I’ll talk to him later, but for now I’ll let him be," Fenris said with a look to his son, then Dorian with far less subtlety than last time. 

“Pin, will you help me with dessert please?” Vic asked as he rose to take plates. 

“Oh - of course!” she replied, jumping up. She began to collect plates as well, as Marian rose from her place to gather up left-overs to put them away.

“Callus, I’m curious - I understand you and Krem had a most interesting discussion recently concerning slaver action up the coast from Skyhold - perhaps you would discuss it with me later?” said Dorian casually.

“Hmm? Oh, of course, Master Pavus,” replied Callus.

“Perhaps you’d walk me to the sparring ring once we’ve had dessert? Alas, I must return to Skyhold this evening,” he added, turning to Fenris. “But perhaps next time Meneris and I might come and stay longer if you’d like, _amicus_?”

Zevran had looked up and was eyeing Dorian thoughtfully. Slowly he smiled, then glanced at Callus and chuckled.

“Master Zevran?” exclaimed Callus, confused.

“Callus, I believe my glass is empty - do pour me a little more of that most excellent brandy, please?” said the Antivan.

“Oh - of course, Ser!” replied Callus, leaping up.

Anders exchanged a look with Fenris then smiled and shook his head.

Soon as Callus was gone, Fenris looked to his Antivan husband with a look. “You are not subtle Zevran, what was that look for?” 

“My former apprentice is forgetting his training already it seems,” replied the blond elf, before fixing Dorian with a sharp stare. “And Master Pavus may as well shout from the rooftop that he wishes to speak alone with your son.”

Dorian blinked, then smiled. “It was partially true, in that I do wish to discuss the slaver matter with him - but yes, I have other reasons to wish private conversation. I merely did not wish to make an issue of it for the poor boy in front of everyone.”

Zevran glanced around at Fenris and Anders. “The children are in the kitchen, as is Invictus. He is not embarrassed, hmm? But come. Perhaps old Zevran can teach you a little more subtlety?”

“Perhaps you could at that, if I’m doing such a piss-poor job,” sighed Dorian. “I swear, a couple of years away from the Inquisition and you’d think the politics in Tevinter would be enough to keep me sharp.”

“You deal with aging magisters,” replied Zevran. “I have much practice in dealing with apprentices. I learned from the Crows, and I have taught Crows. You need to handle the young ones a little differently. Sometimes honesty is the best way.” He smiled slightly. “Or bait with the truth, at least.”

Dorian gave him a slight bow. “Then I shall learn from the master,” he replied.

Zevran threw his head back and laughed; he was still laughing as Callus returned.

Fenris ignored both of them in favor of refilling his drink and slouching in his chair. “You are cruel to me Zevran, teasing me when I have no defense," he mumbled into his glass.

“No need to pout about dessert love, it's something you like just not your favorite tonight," Vic said as he sliced cake for everyone and settled in with a mug of tea. 

There was companionable quiet for a little while as the cake was enjoyed, then at a nod from Anders Ellowynne jumped up to give goodnight hugs and kisses to everyone - including Dorian, to the magister’s evident surprise. 

Pin rose as well. “I’ll go supervise,” she smiled at Anders as she started to herd the younger girl towards the bathroom.

“I’ll be up to say goodnight to you shortly, love,” Anders called to Ellowynne before sitting back with his own mug of tea.

Fenris rose to clean up from dessert and get more tea going, the brandy was getting to him after a long, stressful day and he was nearly ready for bed despite the early hour. 

Invictus went to the parlor to stretch out and enjoy some quiet before everyone started to turn in. 

Finally Dorian rose from his seat and turned to Fenris. “Loath as I am to leave you all, _amicus_ , I’m afraid I must,” he stated.

“It’s good to see you again, Dorian,” smiled Anders. “You and Meneris are always welcome here, you know that.”

Fenris gave him a hug and whispered thanks for listening to him earlier before letting go. “I’ll talk with you in the next couple of days, maybe plan a visit instead of dropping in on you without notice. Figure you’d want some warning next time. Be well _amicus_ ," the elven warrior gave him an awkward grin as he separated from the magister.

“Invictus, Zevran, many thanks for your hospitality,” smiled Dorian before turning to Callus. “And now, young man - would you walk me to the sparring ring?”

Unexpectedly, Callus blushed a little, then nodded. “Of course, Master Pavus,” he replied as they both headed towards the back door. 

As they headed outside, Dorian’s voice floated back, “Please, Callus, just call me Dorian....”

Zevran very quietly chuckled, then leaned back in his chair and gazed into his glass of brandy.

“I hope Callus doesn’t get angry at Dorian for speaking with him," Fenris said as he went for tea instead of more liquor. 

Zevran merely nodded, then glanced up as Anders rose to go say goodnight to Ellowynne and tuck his daughter in. Then the Antivan sighed and downed the rest of his brandy.

“I think perhaps they will talk, _carissimi_ ,” he shrugged. “And I think perhaps it will be good for both of them.”

“I hope so, I really hope so," Fenris said before offering Zevran his arm so they could join Vic in the parlor for a less dramatic end to the day. 

**

Arden’s healing took several months; the process was tiring and draining not only on Arden himself, but also took a toll on Anders and Hal. It was approaching midsummer by the time Anders finally pronounced that there was nothing further he could do. The physical healing of Arden was done; what remained was for Arden himself - and Hal.

It was perhaps two weeks to Midsummer’s Day when Anders approached Invictus, Fenris and Zevran and asked them to talk.

The blond mage regarded them all gravely. Callus and Pin were down in the orchard, Ellowynne in Skyhold with Marian and Garrett. Hal and Arden were in Hal’s room; the four men were alone in the parlour.

“There’s nothing more I can do for him,” Anders said quietly. “So now I have to ask... what do we do with them?”

Fenris stared at his nails while he considered his answer. “If it would not harm Hal, I’d say set them out with some money and good luck. But I won’t do that to him. We _do_ have a lot of land, not all of it used. Perhaps...let them build a small place far, far from the house and we don’t have to see them unless Hal comes here?” the elf suggested. 

Zevran frowned, pondering. “Of us all, Hal is the only one who goes down often to that little place by the willow tree and the pond. Would that perhaps suit? He would be near enough to you, _carissimi_ , but not so close that you must lay eyes on Arden overmuch, yes?”

“If he even wants to do so anymore. We haven’t really talked or anything else since he pulled that fool stunt," Fenris replied, refusing to look at them.

“I’m fine with that if they are, it keeps them out of our hair and lets Hal remain close to you if he wishes Fen," Vic added in. 

Anders stared down at his hands as they rested in his lap. “Fenris, for what it’s worth, I think he truly does regret that and wishes there were some way he could make amends for that. But he will not intrude upon you or ask for what you cannot give.”

“Then perhaps he has learned _some_ wisdom at last,” murmured Zevran.

“There’s also Callus to consider, if they have anything between them still. It's been hard and I can’t talk about it right now, let’s just make a decision about them staying or not, please?” Fenris said quietly before chewing on a thumbnail as he thought on things. 

“I will not vote,” said Anders quietly. 

Zevran cast him a sharp look, then pondered. “For Hal’s sake, and his alone... I say let them stay. Let us build this little house, and let them stay.” He glanced to Invictus.

“Fine, let them build their house then. If you don’t mind, I need some air and to find Callus, I want to spend time before he leaves," Fenris said quietly.

“Then they will get a small spot to build their house. We can tell them before dinner, I will do so if no one else wants to. Though I would pay a few gold to see the look on Arden’s face if Zevran comes calling," Vic said with a wicked grin. 

Anders nodded, then glanced around at the others. “This once... should we let Arden dine at the table here with us? He’ll be out of our hair soon enough, but it would mean a great deal to Hal, I think,” he said quietly. “Hal feels that perhaps he has burned a bridge with us, so to speak. Perhaps by letting them both dine with us tonight, we can show Hal we still care for him and he still has a place with us.” He looked suddenly uncertain. “That is... assuming you all feel he does?”

Zevran shifted slightly. “I can tolerate his presence for one meal,” he shrugged. “And Hal is still part of our family as far as I am concerned.”

“Must I tolerate Ard-OW!” Fenris said with a snarl at Invictus. 

“My foot slipped, sorry love. Yes, he can dine with us for tonight. Tomorrow we send them into town to order what they need," Vic said with a grin at his Tevinter husband.

“My fist is going to slip next if you kick me that hard again _love_ ," Fenris groused before looking at his spouses. 

“Alright,” nodded Anders. “I’ll let Hal know.” He glanced to Invictus. “Love, I think something not too spicey tonight - maybe something nice and Ferelden? And apple pie for dessert?”

“Sure, I’ll take Pin with me and go to town for groceries. We should be back in a couple of hours, unless you want to come with me Fen?” Vic said as he rose.

“Not really, I said I want to see Callus and spend time before he leaves. I’ll help you cook when you return," the elf said before he stood and hissed as he felt just how hard Vic had kicked him.

Anders nodded. “I’m going to take Wynne down to the orchard to gather apples,” he said. “Zev?”

“I think I shall stay and read a while,” replied Zevran. “I am expecting a raven to return shortly.” He smiled and waved them off.

***

Hal lay on his back and stared up at the canopy of the bed.

Anders had told them both that morning that his work was done; there was nothing more he could do for Arden. He had healed all that he could; what came next was entirely up to Arden. 

Which meant the end of the grace period the others had allowed for Arden to remain was now at an end - and, by extension, Hal himself - unless he chose to turn his back on Arden as they had.

He couldn’t. He’d told them as much. He had looked Fenris and Callus in the eye and told them that if forced to choose, he would walk away with Arden. And he knew - he _knew_ , even as he’d said the words, how much he was hurting them; but they couldn’t see how much he was hurting himself too. He was reminded anew every time he sat down to eat with them at dinner - the way Fenris and Callus couldn’t bring themselves to even look at him, much less speak to him. Even if he could bring himself to abandon Arden now, that bridge had been burned and there was no going back. It were as though Hal were dead to them. 

He’d stopped joining everyone for dinner. It was just too painful; instead, he’d stayed in his room, as much a prisoner there now as Arden it seemed - unwanted and resented.

Pin brought their meals to them; she, at least, seemed sympathetic towards him, as was Anders.

His only relief from the sensation of the walls closing in on him were those times when Arden slept deeply after the deep, painful healing sessions, when Hal could leave Arden alone for an hour or two. He would slip out of the house then and make his way down through the garden, down past the orchard, to the big willow tree that stood over the pond by the edge of the large fallow field. He could hide there, beneath the shadow of the willow, and cry himself out away from unfeeling eyes.

He could feel tears prickling at his eyes, and he sat up. Glancing to his side, he could see that Arden was deeply asleep. Hal slipped quietly from the bed and rose to dress himself silently. With a last look back, he very quietly left the room, drawing the door closed as soundlessly as possible before stealing down the stairs.

The house was silent. He made his way to the back door, then hurried out and fled down the hill.

Anders and Ellowynne were gathering apples in the orchard; Hal flitted from tree to tree, avoiding them as he made his way through the grove. He never saw Ellowynne peering at him, watching knowingly as he fled on towards the willow tree.

He threw himself down upon the mossy green bank beside the still dark pool beneath the willow tree, hidden at last from anyone who might see him by the trailing branches that dipped down like a soft green curtain and dipped onto the water; and there he finally gave himself up to tears as he grieved all he had lost. 

And all he was about to lose.

***

Anders and Ellowynne returned to the house, the young girl chattering gaily as they carried baskets full of apples back to the kitchen. Anders smiled as they set their baskets down just as Fenris entered the kitchen.

“Hello, love,” he greeted the elf. “How is -”

He got no further as Ellowynne spun to stare at Fenris, her laughter turning to a look of fierce anger as she glared at Fenris. “You!” she exclaimed as she put her hands on her hips. “I _hate_ you, Uncle Fenris!”

“Ellowynne!” exclaimed Anders, shocked and horrified. “What -”

She ignored her father as she advanced on the tall elf who towered over her. She brandished a finger at him accusingly.

“It’s all your fault! You’re being mean and hateful towards Hal, and you’ve made him cry!”

Fenris blinked as he stared down at the angry child. “I... Imp, what...?”

She stamped her foot angrily. “He’s _crying!_ Under the willow tree. Every single day - he’s there right now because you and Callus hate him! You won’t even _look_ at him and you’ve made him cry and I _hate_ you!”

“Ellowynne, enough!” said Anders loudly.

“I hate him, I _hate him!_ ” she shrieked. “I hate them both!” She stamped her foot again then ran from the room; they heard her feet pounding up the stairs and then the slam of her bedroom door.

Anders stared at Fenris in shock and mortification. “Love, I’m sorry, she - that was out of order, I’ll go talk to her,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

Fenris looked equally shocked. “No, that....” he fell silent as he stared slowly around the kitchen before looking back at Anders. “Hal has been... crying?”

Anders shrugged. “I’ve heard nothing, he’s said nothing - this is as much news to me as it is to you! I have no idea what’s going on, love!”

The back door opened and Pin and Invictus entered, carrying bags of supplies and groceries. They were chatting about something as they entered but fell silent as they saw the looks on Anders and Fenris’ faces.

“What happened to both of you? You don’t seem all that happy at seeing us," Vic said as he started to put things away.

“Ellowynne ran in to yell at me, and by extension Callus. She said she hated us because Hal has been crying under the willow and we’ve done this to him," Fenris replied as he glanced at the door. “I should talk to him, I had no idea!” 

Pin turned and set down the bag of flour she’d just unpacked and stared at her father with a frown. “You seriously mean to tell me you’ve been completely oblivious to the effect you’ve been having on Hal?” she said darkly. “Dumat, why do you think he never comes down to join us at dinner any more?”

“I figured he hated us, or me for not wanting Arden around and he wouldn’t even stay that night for dessert. I can’t read minds, and in case you’ve missed it I’m not the best at reading people. I’m getting Callus so we can talk to him.” Fenris had flinched at his daughter’s rebuke, not liking the realization he’d been hurting Hal rather than giving him space. 

Pin rolled her eyes then turned to Invictus and Anders, who were watching bewildered.

“Master Anders, Papa Vic, please excuse me. I need to go talk to my father and my clueless idiot of a brother.” She turned and gave Fenris a stern glare as she stalked towards him; slipping her arm through his she turned him around and marched him off towards Callus’ room. She was silent as they headed up the stairs and along to Callus’ door.

She pushed the door open without knocking. Callus whirled around, startled; he had been polishing his knives, but the cloth fell from his hand as he stared at them both. “Pin?”

“Sit down!” she barked at him as she slammed the door behind them; Callus stiffened, then dropped back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Father, please sit,” she said, her voice quieter and gentler as she disengaged her arm from his.

The older elf did as he was asked, still confused and unsure what was going on with his daughter. He was mildly impressed at how she had turned on the charm a moment after ordering her brother around. “Pin, can you not yell please?” Fenris asked as he watched her pacing.

“If you wish, Father,” she replied mildly, before abruptly whirling on Callus. “I don’t need to shout to deal with you, Callus,” she added, her voice quiet yet full of fury. “I cannot believe that someone trained by Zevran Arainai could be so _blind_ and _ignorant_. So I can only conclude that _you_ , brother dearest, have been hurting Hal deliberately just to punish him. How _could_ you??”

“What are you talking about? Hurting him? He won’t even look at me when I am in the same room, he said to me and Papa that he’d walk out and leave us if I asked him to choose; which I haven’t by the way. Why are you in here yelling at us, when he’s the one staying with someone who almost killed Master Hawke and your mentor?” Cal snapped.

“You really _are_ blind!” she sneered, before turning back to Fenris, her voice immediately gentling as she gave him a sorrowful look. “Father... ever since that night when we all confronted Arden, neither you nor Callus have spoken one word to Hal. You can barely stand to even look at him. Is it any wonder he feels rejected - that you’ve both already made the decision for him? He still loves you, Father, and he couldn’t bear your silence any longer. You loved him once. Have you not one kind word for him?”

Fenris arched an eyebrow at how she was wielding guilt on him like a saber, versus the way she bludgeoned Callus with it just as well. “He won’t stay put where I’m at Pin. I was going to go talk to him before you marched me up here to browbeat us. He asked for space after the funeral and hasn’t really seemed like he wants me around him once he got his lover back. I can’t do anything if I didn’t know he was off crying himself sick can I?” 

Callus glared at his sister as she listened to their father versus snapping at him. “If you noticed this, why haven’t you said anything before now?”

She turned on her heel to stare him down coldly. “We both know Father is not so good at noticing these things. But you... you have been trained by the Master of the Crows, you at least should have noticed!” she snapped. “He walks into a room and he looks at each of you, just waiting for _one_ of you to look at him, to look him in the eye - and when you won’t even do that? The funeral was months ago! He waited and when it seemed you didn’t want anything to do with him, is it any wonder he gave up?”

She turned back to their father. “I take their meals up to them every day, and I’ve seen him withdrawing more and more into himself. He feels as though he has been cast out - that we’ve all turned our backs on him. Father... he thinks you both hate him, and it’s tearing him apart. Arden can’t cope alone, but I’m not sure Hal can either.”

“I’ll go get him and bring him here or we can go to him at the Willow pond. Then I am going to get drunk and be left alone afterward," Fenris said as he rose. “What do you want Callus? If we go to him, no one will hear it if he yells at us at least.”

“Let’s go to him then, so this demon we’re related to can get off our backs," Cal replied.

Pin gave him a look of sheer disgust before turning back to her father. “I’ll go help Invictus start dinner,” she said. “I need to make a start on the apple pies.” She turned and left the room, heading back down to the kitchen.

“She’s definitely learned from Anders. Come on, let’s talk to him.” Fenris let Cal go ahead of him, unhappy with learning of Hal’s feelings as he had. He stopped at the sound of crying, with a look to his son before approaching the red head.

“Hal?” 

Hal lay sprawled upon the mossy bank beside the pond. His face was buried in his arms as he wept softly and dejectedly, as though his heart had been broken irreparably and there were nothing left in the world. He seemed not to hear them, buried in his misery as he cried.

Fenris approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hal, please look at us.” 

Hal jumped, startled, and cried out as he rolled over and stared up at Fenris in surprise. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears and streaked with dirt from where he’d lain on the ground.

“F-Fenris?” he gasped.

“Unfortunately," the warrior said as he reached out to help Hal to his feet. “Callus is here too, so we can talk, if you will hear us after doing you wrong," Fenris said as he took in how bad off the young mage was. Hal was pale, far too thin, with dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Hal’s eyes darted to Callus, then back to Fenris as he took a step back then pressed his back against the willow trunk, as though he didn’t trust his legs to hold him up. “I... I thought you hated me,” he whispered. “I thought you wanted me gone.”

“I never hated you, seems I made a mistake in thinking you hated me for wanting Arden gone, for whatever role I played in his death before. I thought you still wanted space after Rivain, and I haven’t seen how miserable you are," Fenris confessed before looking to Callus. 

The elven youth ran a hand through his dark hair, discomfited. “I... I don’t know what to say, Hal,” he said slowly. “You seemed so vehement that you would just walk away with Arden, it... it felt like you’d already made your decision, and that we weren’t a part of that.”

Hal stared at him, his eyes widening slightly as he shook his head. “No... no, I never wanted that,” he whispered. “I... you never gave me a chance! I... Arden _needs_ me, and he’s all I have left of my own Thedas. I can’t turn away from that - from him. I was trying to explain - that if he has to go, then I have no _choice_ but to follow. Don’t you understand?” He stared at Callus, desperation upon his face. “If you had turned him away, he couldn’t have survived. He still couldn’t. And now he’s.... Anders can’t do any more for him. And you all made it clear he could only stay so long as Anders was healing him.” He turned back to Fenris. “And now you’ll all cast him out, and... and that means you’re casting me out too, and....”

He slowly slumped to the ground and buried his face in his hands as he began sobbing wretchedly. “You wouldn’t even look at me when I was in the same room... as we ate, you never spoke to me. I felt... you’d already cast me out!”

“You’re not cast out and you’re not being cast out Hal. I figured when you stopped coming down you hated us, that’s all I can say. You know I’m shit at feelings and reading people. I’m sorry and if you’ll come in with us, we can talk openly and we’ll hear you, right Callus?” Fenris said as he tried to get Hal to look at them. 

“One word,” Hal whispered as he finally looked up at Fenris. “I would have given anything for just one word from you, Fenris!” 

“I’m sorry Hal, I get it, I fucked this up like I do most things. I’m sorry and I want to fix it, if you’ll let us in," Fenris said, clamping down on that nasty habit to snap at others when they pointed out his faults. Instead he pulled Hal into his arms and tried to calm them both. 

Hal curled up into his embrace and pressed his face against Fenris’ shoulder as he tried to swallow down his tears. “I thought you hated me, and it felt like dying all over again,” he confessed in a small voice. “I’m - I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry... Maker, I missed you so much!” He pressed a shaky kiss to the side of Fenris’ neck. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you too Hal, I admit I thought it was you that hated me, especially after my foolish mistake thinking Callus had hurt you. Can you forgive me...us?” Fenris said as he glanced up to his son. He was conflicted, he knew Cal was closer in age to the young man he held, but with Arden returned it wasn’t as if they could peacefully have a relationship, with Cal planning on leaving for the Chargers either. 

Callus took a hesitant step closer. “Dumat, I... I’m sorry too, Hal,” he said quietly as he knelt down next to his father and Hal. “I had no idea. I....” He groaned, and slumped a little. “Pin was right,” he said, shaking his head. “I _am_ a blind idiot. I let my own feelings blind me - and after all Master Zevran had taught me, too! Hal, I never hated you, I swear it! I was hurt, yes, but... I never wanted this.” He looked to his father, his eyes dark with worry, then back to the red-haired mage. “Hal, you’re so skinny... was that me? Us? Did we do this to you? _Venhedis_ , please, forgive me - I had no idea!”

Hal shook his head. “No... it wasn’t just you, it - healing Arden has taken much out of me, as it has Anders, and... and it was hard to eat, to have much appetite.” He straightened a little, rubbing at his eyes, heedless of the dirt smearing across his cheeks. “I never hated you either, Callus. It hurt to think I was losing what we’d had before it had had any chance to grow. Maybe... maybe it should never have happened, for both our sakes.” He finally looked up at Callus. “I never wanted to hurt you, Callus. _Either_ of you. And all I’ve succeeded in doing is hurting everyone.” He bowed his head.

“I think we have had enough of blaming each other around here. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up before dinner," Fenris said tiredly. He stood and picked up the mage with a sad look to his son. “We both care for you, and whatever happens we’ll be better about talking ok?” 

Callus nodded. “Let’s get back to the house,” he agreed. “Father, I’ll go on ahead and start a bath running.” He turned and set off running back up the hill towards the house.

Hal rested his head on Fenris’ shoulder. “How often have you carried me like this, Fenris?” he asked quietly. “It always feels... safe. Comforting.”

“Too often, due to my own stupidity. Forgive us one day Hal," Fenris said quietly as he headed inside. He hoped he didn’t see Ellowynne in case the girl thought he’d hurt Hal more than before. 

Invictus was busy chopping vegetables as Fenris carried Hal in; the mage raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Fenris crossed the kitchen. The elf carried Hal upstairs and into the large bathroom, which was filled with steam from the hot bath Callus had drawn for Hal.

Fenris set Hal down; the mage tugged open the sash belt of his robes and let it fall before shrugging out of the robe. Callus returned with fresh towels just as Hal stripped his shirt off, and he stared for a moment then merely set the towels down near the bath.

“Hal... I’m going to leave you two alone,” said Callus quietly. “We can talk more afterwards, alright?”

Hal glanced at him over his shoulder, then nodded. He waited until Callus had left, closing the door behind himself, before stripping off the rest of his clothes then stepping into the bath. He sank down into the water with a low sigh.

“Would you like me to leave?” asked Fenris quietly as Hal dipped his head back in the water to wet his hair. The mage sat up and glanced over his shoulder at Fenris.

“Please stay?” he asked, his voice quiet and withdrawn. “I’ve spent too much time alone with only my thoughts for company.” He stared down at the water.

“But you weren’t alone,” said Fenris as he drew closer. “You had Ar - _him_.” He hated himself as he saw Hal flinch. “I’m sorry, forgive me,” the elf said, contrite. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Arden has been... poor company,” replied Hal with a small shrug. “The healing takes even more out of him than it does I or Anders; he sleeps much of the time between sessions. And he’s not really himself during those times when he’s awake. The work Anders has done... Arden is often lost in his own memories afterwards. He talks to people who aren’t there. Sometimes he sees me, but sometimes it’s clear he’s talking to someone else. To all intents and purposes I’ve been alone. I daren’t leave him when he’s like that but... it’s hard.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, you don’t want to hear about him.”

Fenris bit back a bitter retort. The young mage was right; he would rather not hear the man’s name at all, much less know anything about him. But as he stared at Hal and saw how the mage hunched in upon himself in the water, he shook his head and sighed softly.

“Let me wash your back,” he suggested.

He knelt down by the edge of the bath; taking up a cloth, he began to wash Hal’s back as the mage scrubbed the dirt from his face. “I take it Anders has not yet told you then,” he said slowly.

“Told me what?” asked Hal, a little sharply, and then drew his breath in with a gasp. “Oh. Maker. You’re... We’re going to be sent away, aren’t we? That’s why you came to find me, wasn’t it - to tell me that now Anders has finished working on Arden, we have to go?” He choked back a sob.

Fenris let the cloth fall into the water and drew Hal back against him, wrapping his arms around the mage, not caring that Hal’s hair was soaking his shirt. “No, that is not why I came to find you, Hal,” he replied with a sigh. “Ellowynne told me you were crying beneath the willow, and then Pin opened my eyes to how badly I’d gotten things wrong. She wields guilt against me as skillfully as any magister, I swear. Callus and I came to try and make amends by talking to you. No, Anders was merely going to tell you that both you and... and Arden may join us at dinner tonight. We must speak of what is to come next.”

He felt Hal tense and move to pull away, and tightened his grip, knowing that the mage would be powerless to pull free. “Hold still, Hal,” he said softly. “You are not being cast out. But nor can Arden remain beneath this roof; you know this.” Hal gasped, and Fenris felt something splash, hot and wet upon his arm, and knew it wasn’t bathwater as Hal’s shoulders shook. The mage made one last attempt to pull away then abruptly gave up, sagging against Fenris with a shuddering sigh.

“Then what will you do with us?” whispered Hal. “With me?”

“We have... a suggestion. A proposition we wish to put to you both, after dinner,” said Fenris slowly. “Though with what you say of Arden’s mental state, he may not be able to take it in?”

“He may awaken lucid,” sighed Hal. “Sometimes, for a little while after he awakens, there’s more of himself there and he seems more aware of his surroundings. But I shall answer for us both if need be.”

“I worry for you, Hal,” said Fenris as he shook his head. “You are too young to bear such a burden alone.”

“Arden is no ‘burden’,” said Hal sharply as he suddenly straightened and tried once more to pull away. “And even if he were, he is _mine_ alone - he has no-one else, and I won’t abandon him!”

“Peace,” rumbled Fenris, and Hal held still. “Forgive my poor choice of words. But even if _he_ has no-one else, I swear that _you_ are not alone, Hal.”

“You’re not making any sense,” whispered Hal. “You’re... you’re confusing me. Fenris, what are you trying to tell me?” He had gone still again.

“I should not have spoken; forgive me,” said Fenris, shaking his head. He made to release Hal, but the young mage lifted his hands and grasped Fenris’ arms, holding them in place.

“No,” he said softly. “You don’t get to say things like that then pull away from me, Fenris. What were you trying to say?”

Fenris counted slowly to ten in his head and fought down the irrational flare of anger that had welled up inside. He knew he could easily pull away from Hal; the mage was slender, his strength no match for Fenris’ own. But he stayed there, and briefly tightened his grip around Hal.

“I told you I still care for you, Hal. We both do. All of us do. But... there is more. I... I still love you as well, Hal, in my own way. And I would not see you driven away. I... I want you near. But forgive me, I cannot face Arden again. I have agreed to his presence at the table this evening for your sake and because Anders asked it of me, but once he leaves this house I never wish to see his face again. But... we will speak more of this at dinner.”

Hal let his hands fall, releasing Fenris. The elf held still a moment, then slowly unwound his arms from around Hal.

“Do you... do you want me to go?” asked the elf quietly.

Hal bowed his head then, after a moment, slowly nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner, Fenris,” he said in a small voice that tugged at Fenris’ heart for how hurt and lost the young mage sounded. He wanted to reach for him again, tell him of the suggestion of a house by the willow tree - but he knew it would not be right to tell him without the others present. He rose and moved back towards the door, but halted when Hal spoke up, again in that small, vulnerable voice.

“Fenris... if you are going to tell me goodbye... if this is the end? Please... please just tell me now?”

Fenris turned slowly to stare at Hal, who was huddled in the bath, staring down at the water.

“Do... do you wish it to be?” he asked, dreading what the answer might be.

Hal lifted his head and twisted around in the water to stare at him. “No!” The single word was a horrified whisper.

Fenris let go the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “I do not wish it to be either. Hal... please... just, bathe, wash your face, go dress in clean clothes. I promise, we will talk at dinner.” He tried to smile reassuringly, then sighed before he turned and left the room hurriedly.

He closed the door behind him then leaned against it. He listened for the sound of weeping, but all was silent. He wasn’t sure whether that were to the good or the bad.

He sighed, then went off in search of Callus.

***

Dinner that night was a strained affair.

The others had all felt an odd unease and tension in the air when Pin had returned downstairs to say that Hal and Arden were on their way down to join them. Only Hal, Pin and Anders had laid eyes on Arden since Hal had brought him back, and none of them knew quite what to expect. 

Hal’s words to Fenris hadn’t prepared the elf for the change in Arden’s appearance when they finally arrived in the dining room. Hal entered, leading the former Champion of his Kirkwall by the hand.

Arden had visibly aged. There was much more white in his hair now, thick streaks at his temples and peppered through the dark gold, and his face looked more tired. He stumbled slightly, and Hal steadied him gently. Arden was quiet, his gaze upon the floor as Hal gently guided him to a chair and saw he was seated before taking the seat next to him. The young mage glanced up and then round at the others.

“We’re glad you could both join us,” said Anders, before looking round at the others. None of them corrected him, though the feeling was palpable in the air that they didn’t agree. His statement seemed to be a sign for everyone to begin eating.

Arden glanced to Hal; only when the redhead began to eat did he follow suit. He kept his eyes on his plate, eating slowly.

Ellowynne was watching him carefully, her eyes on Arden’s hands as the mage paused to reach for his glass of water, his hand trembling slightly. Her eyes flicked to Hal, who gave her a small, sad smile before he looked down at his own plate. Arden seemed oblivious to her scrutiny as he set the glass down and continued eating.

Fenris was quiet as he ate, giving Hal occasional glances before looking at his plate. Invictus hated that the other mage looked so bad off, but he had no pity in his heart for the man. Once everyone seemed to be done, he called to Arden. 

“You’re probably wondering why we asked you to join us tonight?” he asked with a glance to the others.

Arden laid his fork down and looked up at Invictus. “You want me to leave,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse as though from disuse. His voice was almost without intonation as he continued, “Thank you for letting me stay with Hal this long.”

Hal’s head jerked up and he stared at Arden, then looked to Fenris, his lips parting slightly though he seemed almost afraid to speak.

Fenris glared at him and gave Hal a pained look before speaking. “Yes, but not as you are assuming. Hal is not a thing for us to allow you to have, for one thing. For the sake of him and for how we care for him, we would offer you a parcel of land to build a small home down by the pond. If you wish to remain but not under this roof.” 

“Considering what you have done here, and how you have hurt many of us its a good deal. Though, final approval will come from Zevran since you harmed him almost as much as you’ve hurt Hal and Anders," Invictus said as he glared at the frail mage. 

Arden turned his head to stare at Zevran. “For which I am deeply regretful,” he replied, his voice still devoid of affect. “Your offer is more than I deserve.”

Zevran regarded him coolly. “The offer is for Hal’s sake, not yours. If it were not for him then I would see you put out on the road this very minute and I would not care whether you lived or died. But for Hal’s sake I will not see you dead by my hand - either directly or indirectly.” He smiled coldly. “You have yet one more reason to thank Hal for your life.”

Arden nodded slowly. “I understand,” he answered.

“Do you?” inquired Zevran as he leaned forward. “I do not think you do. Let me make it plain to you, Arden who was once a Hawke. Your continued existence depends upon Hal. For his sake, you have been given a second chance of a sort. We are giving you land where you may build a home, but where we do not have to look upon you. You may remain there so long as you cause no further harm to Hal. Should you hurt him however, we _will_ know - and upon that day I shall take great pleasure in slitting your throat myself. Am I clear?”

Hal gasped softly, but Arden laid his hand over Hal’s where it rested upon the table. “You are, Zevran,” Arden replied quietly. “Your conditions are fair, as are the consequences should I transgress against this generosity. Should I allow Hal to come to harm then I shall expect your blade. But I shall not seek it before such a time.”

“Then its settled, tomorrow I will go into town and solicit workmen. Do either of you know anything about building?” Fenris asked.

Hal shook his head, wordlessly, as Arden shrugged.

“I never learned,” he replied.

“Where - where should we go whilst the house is being built?” asked Hal in a small voice. He looked as though he were afraid they were about to be turned out at any moment.

“You may remain here, as there is no point in sending you into the Village for what could be a month or more. Just know I do not wish to talk to you Arden, or if possible see you more than I have to. If the others allow it, you both may join us for meals so Hal is not alone and feeling unwanted. That is the extent of how much I will tolerate your presence and only for what love I have for Hal," Fenris snarled, his voice heavy with anger for the mage as he stared him down. 

“If only for practicality he may remain in the house. I don’t like it but there’s nothing more Anders can do for your mind but there’s nowhere for you to go while its being built. Mind yourself Arden as none of us give a damn for you save Hal," Invictus said tiredly. 

“Would you prefer I remain in Hal’s room perhaps? I can eat my meals in there. There is no reason why Hal should be deprived of your company,” Arden suggested. “I have been there so long already, it matters little if I stay there longer.” He shrugged. “You will wish me to continue taking magebane of course.” He said it in a disaffected tone of voice, almost as though they were discussing the weather rather than continuing to drug himself out of his magic. Hal gave him a pleading look but said nothing.

“Considering you look as dangerous as a wet kitten, you don’t need to take it. I know how bad it was when I dosed myself back in Skyhold. One out of control spell, and Zevran takes care of you. If you have no self-control, then you will suffer for it. We will not make Hal suffer more than he has, which has been quite a bit from what I’ve been told," Invictus said, looking to Callus and Fenris.

“I’d rather he stay on it, but I defer to you Vic," Fenris said as he gave up pretending to eat. 

Callus frowned. “I’d rather he stay on it as well,” he muttered. “But I’ll go with the majority. What does everyone else think?”

Anders stared down at his plate. “I see no reason why he should continue taking it,” he said tersely.

Zevran leaned back in his chair, playing idly with his knife. “Hmm. A good question,” he drawled quietly. “If he is so willing to continue take it, then let him. One less thing for us to be concerned with, yes?”

“Zevran!” exclaimed Anders, but fell silent as Zevran glanced at him.

“Callus asked what we each think and I am simply stating it. I think I prefer to see him continue to take it until he is no longer under this roof.”

“So how many is that for and how many opposed? Can we decide and move on as this is...more difficult that I had expected," Fenris asked.

“He’s weak as a damn kitten, leave him off it so he can at least help with things once the house is built. I know you in particular despise him Zevran but look at him really what harm can he do? Besides you are still damned fast with a blade and Fen is resistant to most magic, he can’t hurt either of you anymore," Vic said with a glance to their own blond mage. 

“Ellowynne is hardly strong either,” replied Zevran softly. “Yet I remember a certain afternoon where her physical strength mattered not at all.”

Ellowynne’s bottom lip began to tremble as her eyes filled with tears. “Uncle Zevran, I _said_ I was sorry -!” she began, then subsided as he raised a hand to forestall her with a warm smile.

“That was not said as blame, small one,” he told her gently. “But it is true - your size and physical strength meant nothing, because you are still a mage and sometimes accidents do happen, no? I do not think we want any accidents again, do we, little one?”

Ellowynne shook her head. “No, Uncle Zevran,” she agreed. 

“Just so,” nodded Zevran, before his eyes flicked to Pin. “And you, apprentice to my heart?”

“Master Zevran?” she exclaimed, startled. 

“Your master wishes Arden to be spared the further poisoning of magebane. Are you in accord with your master - or with your father and brother?”

Pin’s eyes went to Anders, then to Fenris and Callus who were staring at her.

“That’s not fair, Zevran,” she said in a low, hurt voice. “You’re asking if I’m loyal to my family or to my master!”

“I am asking for your opinion, no more and no less,” replied Zevran.

“But....” Pin’s voice trailed off as she looked at her father and brother.

“Don’t make her choose between us Zev. Just let him stay off the damned magebane. I’m tired of discussing it, and I also know how it feels to have people decide your fate as if you are not sitting there, or to discuss you like a piece of furniture rather than a person. Drop it," Fenris said before getting more wine for himself. 

“Pin...” whispered Hal in a soft plea; she glanced at him, her expression one of worry and indecision. She swallowed hard, then looked back at Zevran.

“For Hal’s sake, I say no. No magebane,” she said firmly. “I’m not siding against my father and brother, nor am I siding with Master Anders - I’m siding with _Hal_. And now I’m done with this.” She got to her feet and fled the room.

Fenris glared at them before going to retrieve his daughter. “I’ll bring her back for dessert and you apologize Zevran," he said before calling out to her. 

Pin halted at the foot of the stairs then turned slowly back towards her father.

“Father, I... can’t stay there and watch that. Not.... Father, no matter what Arden’s done, it’s _wrong_ to just casually discuss whether to - to _poison_ him like we’re calmly discussing what’s for dinner!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “He won’t resist, but that doesn’t make it right! And it’s cruel to Hal. _Venhedis_ , Father, why did we have Arden join us? This is just wrong! If you were already planning to give Hal the land, you should just have said so instead of dragging it out like this!”

Fenris knelt and tugged her to his arms. “I didn’t know it would go like that, I’m sorry. I said to end it but Zevran persisted. Let’s go back and I asked him to apologize to you. I don’t like that any more than you do, just come back with me please?” 

“What’s wrong with Master Zevran, Father?” Pin asked quietly. “I’ve never known him so cruel before. He almost made Wynne cry - she’s been so upset and apologetic over the fire, why on earth would he bring that up again now?”

“I honestly don’t know, unless he’s still angry over being hurt so badly by Arden. He was nearly killed Pin, and now he’s got a limp that will never go away. He’s probably deeply angry over that. Let’s talk to him later, but for now I just want to get through dinner, please?” Fenris asked her. 

She stared at her father doubtfully for a moment but then finally nodded. “Alright, Father.”

They returned to find the others sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Zevran had slumped slightly in his chair and was rubbing his forehead slowly, his eyes closed. They opened as Fenris and Pin returned, and he straightened with a look of remorse. He stared up at her, then bowed his head. 

“Pin, I should not have placed you into that position and I regret that I have distressed you. Please, accept my apologies. I should not have spoken like that.”

She stared down at him. “A-apology accepted,” she said after a moment, then sank down into her own seat as Fenris returned to his.

“Good, never do that to my daughter again Zevran or we will have words," Fenris said before looking to Hal and reluctantly, Arden. “It’s decided, you will behave until your house is built. Tomorrow I will go into town and hire workers and hopefully it will go quickly and you can settle in before the end of summer. Now if we’re done with business, I’d rather move on to dessert.” 

“Mind if I go to town with you love?” Invictus asked quietly.

“If you really want to, sure," the warrior replied before heading into the kitchen to get dessert and make coffee. He was on edge again and knew he was close to taking it out on the others. 

As Fenris disappeared towards the kitchen, Zevran leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.

“Zevran?” asked Anders, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on the elf’s shoulder; Zevran reached back with one hand to lay it over his without lifting his head.

“Merely tired, my heart,” the Antivan murmured.

Fenris served them and set out cups for coffee, but let people get their own. He sat back with a large slice of pie and strong coffee for his nerves. 

Invictus reached over to his husband, concerned for how wound up he seemed. “Do you need time alone later?” 

Callus glanced at Invictus, then at his father, before glancing across at his sister. “Pin, I can’t decide which set of knives I should take - come up and help me choose after dinner?” he asked. She blinked at him.

“What -” she began, just as he lifted one hand and made a brief gesture as he reached for the coffee pot. “What are the choices?” she said, as she held out her cup. “I thought you preferred the Antivan-style blades?”

“Yes, but there’s the set from Orlais as well, and they’re slightly enchanted too - I can’t decide which are better,” replied Callus as he poured for her, his free hand twitching slightly. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly before she darted a brief glance at Zevran then back.

“Oh, sure, if you think I can help,” she smiled as she sat back with her cup of coffee.

Fenris noticed their silent conversation but didn’t say anything about it. Instead he helped himself to more pie and pondered whether or not he wanted time alone. 

“Love, do you need time to yourself, you didn’t answer," Vic pushed his knee against his husband’s determined to get an answer.

“Maybe later, I just want to sit here for a while and not talk if that’s ok?” Fenris mumbled.

Arden was eating his slice of pie slowly; he paused and murmured something to himself then lifted his head slightly to stare into space and smile before he shrugged and went back to eating his pie. Hal stared at him then slowly shook his head sadly before reaching for his own coffee.

Dessert finished with Pin and Cal drifting upstairs to talk, and Hal gently shepherding Arden back to their room so they could talk about what was to come. That left Fenris, Invictus, Zevran and Ellowynne along with her father around the table. Fenris glanced at the young girl, then at Anders; unsure if he should bring up her shouting at him earlier. 

Anders patted Zevran on the shoulder, then rose to his feet as the Antivan didn’t lift his head. “Time to say goodnight, Wynne,” he said quietly. “And I think you have something to say to Uncle Fenris, don’t you, sweetie?”

Ellowynne looked up at Fenris apologetically. “Sorry I shouted at you, Uncle Fenris,” she said, lowering her eyes. 

“Thank you for apologizing Ellowynne," the elf replied, with a glance to her then her father. 

She looked up at him anxiously. “G-G’night, Uncle Fenris,” she said quietly.

He gave her another look before getting another cup of coffee. “Good night Ellowynne, sleep well.” 

She regarded him with a faintly hopeful air for a moment before glancing sadly away then making her way to Invictus. “G’night Uncle Vic,” she said, a little subdued.

“Night Imp,” Vic said before kneeling down to give her a hug and giving his elven husband an odd look. “Be good ok?” 

She gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “Yes, Uncle Vic,” she answered. Then she approached Zevran.

“Uncle Zevran?” she asked timidly.

Zevran glanced up at the child, and after a moment he gave her a small, sad smile. “I must apologise to you too, little one,” he said softly. “I behaved badly tonight, no? I made you sad, and then I made Pin sad, and that was very wrong of me. Forgive me, little one.”

“Of course, Uncle Zevran,” she said shyly. She looked at him hopefully, then held her arms out to him. He gathered her into his arms and held her close, burying his face against her soft golden hair for a moment.

“Thank you, little one,” he whispered.

He set her down, and she smiled up at him. “G’night, Uncle Zevran,” she told him, and kissed the end of his nose.

“Come on, sweetie,” said Anders with a smile as he held his hand out to her. “Time for bed.”

“Coming, Dad,” she replied as she ran to him. With a last, puzzled look back at Fenris, Anders led her upstairs.

Once they were gone, Invictus nudged his Tevinter spouse. “What was that about? She looked fit to cry when you didn’t hug her.” 

“She screamed I hate you at me for no reason Vic, and I haven’t forgotten her attempt to burn me and nearly taking down the house in a fit of anger. Hopefully she’ll learn there’s a consequence to saying things like that," Fenris said as if he was discussing the weather. 

Zevran had slumped his head back into his hands as Anders and Ellowynne left, but at Fenris’ words he lifted it to stare at him.

“You know perfectly well that she has adored Hal since the very first day they met, here in Nevarra, _carissimi_ ,” he said in mild reproof. “Perhaps she was rather loud in her objection to how she feels you treated him, but it was hardly for no reason. And she _did_ apologise to you.”

Fenris glanced at his husband with a curious expression. “Considering how you demanded Pin to choose between family and Anders? I think you have little room to talk. Did you forget she tried to set me on fire?” 

“Did you forget she’s a child?” Vic snapped at him.

“She’s not that much of a child, she grew up in the Circle," Fenris quipped. 

“And you so resent it that now she has the chance of the childhood she _should_ have had, which you and I were denied, _carissimi_?” said Zevran softly from where his hands once more cradled his head. He had dropped back the moment Fenris had reproved him in return, and now he kept his eyes closed, not looking at the other elf. “She is but twelve, and you a grown man. Do you feel all the taller for putting down a small slip of a girl then? If I can apologise to her and to Pin, can you not accept her apology?”

Fenris growled under his breath at his husband, his anger slipping out at the other elf’s words. “You know damned well I did not put her down for fun. I am not envious of what we did not have as children and you all fucking coddle her. She apologized for nearly fucking killing me and burning the house down and I’m just supposed to forget that? Do you know what...you don’t because I’ve never told you.” He tried to gather himself before he started shouting but it was hard.

“That terrified me, it sent me to a dark place again because Hadriana used to toy with me. Used to play with fire, threaten me with it, getting far too close to actually killing me. I don’t fear Anders, or Vic but that was too much on top of a really bad fucking day and I will not sit here and have you act like I’m being mean just for the fun of it. Do you think I like being shouted at for something I had no idea about? Do either of you think I am just being heartless for a laugh at a child’s expense? No, but apparently I can’t even try and show that there is a consequence for what you say and do to her but you all damn well do it to me every chance you get. Fine, I get your point both of you. I’m wrong.” Fenris was close to angry tears as he finished, staring back at Zevran and then to Invictus as he waited for them to show their anger at him.

“Yes, to answer your earlier question Invictus, I desperately want to be alone right now. Probably for the next few days until I can deal with this.” He looked up to see Anders in the doorway looking shocked at finding them fighting. 

Zevran abruptly shoved his chair back from the table and struggled to his feet before beginning to limp heavily away from the table.

“Zevran?” said Anders. “Zev, what -”

“You heard him!” snapped the Antivan without pausing. “He wishes to be alone! Far be it for I to transgress against his wishes!” He continued to limp painfully towards the stairs.

“Maker... what happened whilst I was gone?” asked Anders, bewildered, as he looked around at Invictus and Fenris.

“Ask them, I’m going for a walk," Fenris snarled as he went out of the house and to the pond where they’d found Hal. He sat there, staring into the water as he tried to control himself and get his feelings under control.

Invictus winced at the slammed door as Fenris stormed out, and at the expression on Anders’ face. “I think Fenris was on edge and us laying into him for not giving Ellowynne her usual good night hug pushed him over. He really responded badly to what wasn’t more than a mild rebuke from Zev.” 

“But....” Anders stared out of the window, then back towards the stairs. “Maker. I was gone barely ten minutes and I come back to this?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What on earth has gotten into them both this evening?”

“I think Zevran is still angry with Arden and even the limited amount of time they were at the table was too much, the argument over magebane and how he pushed Pin to make such a choice has his fuse rather burnt out. I think Fenris is in a bad place again, he admitted the fire scared him and I think that he hates that something from his past is still getting to him after all the work he’s done. He was looking fit to cry before he stormed out. I think he needs something to do before he goes spare," Vic offered. 

Anders lowered himself into a chair and sighed. “Frankly? That whole time we were fighting that fire I was terrified shitless. It was like being twelve and setting my father’s barn on fire all over again, with a side order of a whole load of other stuff I really don’t want to think too much about, like the chantry fire and - and Maker, that damned Clearing at Skyhold.” He shuddered. “That was months ago though - he really shouldn’t be still brooding on it so long after, much less taking it out on my daughter. There’s only so many times she can apologise for that, Vic, and she’s well aware of what the consequences are - you’ve seen how she can’t even conjure up the smallest flame anymore!” He sighed and shook his head. “As for Zevran....there’s something more to his behaviour than just being angry.” He shook his head. “I know he’s in a lot of pain, though he won’t admit to it.”

“He’s been in pain before, Void when I threw him into a table and he was a walking pin cushion with every right to want to murder me, he wasn’t acting like this. Let’s try and talk with him, I’m going to leave Fenris alone for now and hope he comes inside later and doesn’t stay gone all night. I’m afraid he’s unhappy and possibly planning to leave. It's stupid but he’s wanted so much time to himself lately, I can’t help but wonder," Vic said as he cleaned up and rinsed off plates before sliding an arm around Anders so they could find their angry Antivan.

“Vic... I don’t think you realise,” said Anders quietly. “Zevran’s been in pain ever since Skyhold - he’s just used to hiding it. But since Arden broke his leg... it’s worse. You saw how badly he was limping.”

“I had no idea, I thought most of this pain was after the broken leg here. Still, I am worried at how tonight turned out. I’m sure they heard the slamming doors and Fenris yelling. Maker, it's like trying to do right has turned out terrible. Let’s give Fenris space and try to get to Zevran, before he gets into a worse snit.” 

They headed up the stairs, and halfway up Anders halted, tugging at Invictus to stop as well. 

“Listen!” he whispered.

They held still, and then a moment later, Invictus could hear it too - a quiet sniff, and then a soft voice.

“It will be alright, little one... I know....”

They exchanged a glance, then silently crept up the stairs then peered around the corner, down the hall.

Zevran was sitting upon the floor, his back against the wall beside the door to Ellowynne’s room, his bad leg stretched stiffly out in front of him. Ellowynne was curled up in his arms, hugging him tightly as she sobbed quietly; his arms were wrapped around her as he crooned softly to her, his own breaths hitching as he held her, his eyes closed and his cheeks wet.

“He did not mean to make you unhappy, little one,” murmured Zevran. “We must forgive him, yes? Too much hate is not good. We - we mustn’t keep hurting each other....”

“Let them be, I think he’s getting through to her more than we can right now," Vic whispered as he looked back to Anders. “I’ll get Fen to talk to her tomorrow, I just hope to Maker he’ll be in a mood to hear me.”

“Do you think he’s comforting her... or himself?” wondered Anders quietly as he stared at the Antivan. “He looks....” He broke off and glanced to Invictus. “Just what did Fenris say to him?”

“Let’s go back downstairs so we’re not spying on them and I’ll tell you," Vic said quietly before rising and creeping back down stairs to the parlor. 

Anders cast one last glance back at the oblivious elf and his daughter, then followed Invictus back downstairs to the parlour. 

He dropped down onto the nearest couch and sighed. “So... what happened?” he asked.

“Zevran was blunt as usual and it seemed to make Fenris snap. He didn’t seem to like that when it was pointed out that he was being rather unforgiving, and he… he said we coddle her too much, that she needed to learn there were consequences to saying she hated people. He’s really stuck on the fire too, so I think it is still a thing for him. So combine the out of the blue screaming at him, whatever he’s carrying emotionally from the fire that he hasn’t told us and likely realizing Callus is going to leave sooner than later; I think he’s more on edge than usual," Vic glanced at Anders, hating the look on his face at what had transpired. 

Anders had gone slightly pale save for bright spots of colour upon his cheeks. “Coddle her? He - he actually said that?” He blinked, and looked away. “She’s a child. Twelve. I was twelve when my father gave me to the templars. A child - she’s a child, just as I was then. He -” He looked back to Invictus. “She’s my daughter. I should be the one to decide consequences, he -”

He jumped to his feet and began to pace. “I - I don’t coddle her, she’s a child, I - we _protect_ her, care for her, but - I - I don’t coddle her -” He halted and turned back to Invictus, suddenly looking worried and uncertain. “Do I? Vic? Is - does he - was Fenris saying he thinks I’m a bad father?” he asked, his voice quiet, shaking slightly.

“No, I think he was really upset and we pushed him further than he had energy for. Why don’t you talk to him when he’s calm and you’re calm? Don’t let this get to you, and for Maker’s sake don’t go charging out there when you’re both upset. For all we know, maybe he meant meant that Zev and I coddle her, you weren’t in the room. Don’t think you’re a bad father, don’t," Vic said as he tugged Anders over to him.

“Look at me, listen. You are a wonderful father, I have seen how you treat her and how much she adores you. I think we’re all a little raw and if I’m the calmest one in the house, then something isn’t right. Let’s just relax, have a little wine and then go to bed?” Vic asked. 

“I just want my little girl to have the chance to grow up safe and happy,” gulped Anders. “That’s... that’s not coddling, is it? Maker knows, I didn’t exactly have the best example of fatherhood myself - but I’m doing my best, I honestly am!”

“I know you are love, I know. I think we need to just relax and all go to bed. Everyone is upset and angry right now. I think the only ones not arguing are Pin and Callus to be honest. Come on, I hate seeing you like this and I’m at the end of my endurance too," Vic tried to stand up with Anders in his grasp and get them heading back to the stairs. 

“Maker. This was all such a huge mess,” groaned Anders as he shook his head but allowed Invictus to tug him towards the stairs. “What was I thinking?”

They halted near the top of the stairs, and realised all had gone quiet. They peered around the corner, and saw that Ellowynne had fallen asleep in Zevran’s arms. The Antivan’s head was bowed over the sleeping child, his arms still wrapped around her.

“I hate to bother them, but she should sleep in her bed, and him in ours," Vic said as they approached and he gently nudged Zevran. “Hey.”

The Antivan mumbled something, his arms tightening slightly around the sleeping child, before he fell silent again.

“Maker’s balls, I don’t believe it - is he asleep?” whispered Anders.

“How?” Vic muttered as he tried to get Zevran to wake up, or so he could get Ellowynne out of his arms and put in her own bed.

Anders crouched down next to the elf and rested a hand on the Antivan’s shoulder. “Zevran... Wynne has to go to bed now,” he called softly.

After a moment, Zevran’s arms slowly relaxed and Invictus was able to lift Ellowynne up to bear her away to her own bed; she stirred only slightly as he lowered her into her own bed, rolling over onto her side with a little sigh as she nuzzled her face into the pillow.

“‘Night, Unca Zev,” she slurred, dreamily.

“Night sweetheart," Vic whispered as he shut the door and came out to see Zevran still asleep in the hall. 

“I’m not getting stabbed if I try and wake him up," Vic mused. 

Anders gave him an exasperated look, then stared down at Zevran.

“RIght, well gentle calling isn’t having much effect, and I think trying to pick him up between us would be a bad idea,” he replied. “Only one thing for it.” His hands began to glow blue as Invictus felt the blond mage drawing magic to him, and then before Invictus could stop him Anders cupped his hands to Zevran’s face and channeled a rejuvenate into the elf as he kissed him.

Zevran’s eyes flew open and he reached up instinctively, one hand grasping Anders’ wrist whilst the other reached for Anders’ throat with a blade, halting as he suddenly realised what was going on, the blade a hair’s breadth away from the blond man’s throat. The blade dropped from Zevran’s hand as he closed his eyes and reached up to slide his hand into Anders’ hair, groaning into the kiss before his fingers tightened and he pulled Anders back.

“That was a dangerous trick to play, my heart,” gasped the Antivan as he opened his eyes and stared into Anders’ flushed face.

“Woke you up though,” replied Anders breathlessly. Zevran released him and sighed, letting his head drop back against the wall.

“Don’t do that, I thought you were about to get stabbed in front of me," Vic muttered as they headed for their room. 

Anders ignored him, concentrating instead on Zevran as the elf limped slowly between them. “Zevran? You shouldn’t have let yourself fall asleep on the floor like that,” he said quietly. “The cold won’t do your leg any good.”

“It cannot make it much worse either, my heart,” replied Zevran, wincing slightly.

“I’ll get that potion for you love, and a hot bath if you like," Vic offered as he went ahead to get the door and turn down their bed. 

Zevran shook his head. “I am too tired,” he admitted. “I wish only to lie down with you both.”

“Alright, love,” said Anders gently. “Let’s get you into bed then.” He helped the elf to the bed and steadied him as Zevran sat down, and then he dropped to his knees to tug off Zevran’s boots as Zevran began slowly unfastening his shirt cuffs.

Invictus returned with a potion for Zevran, handing it off so he could strip and get into bed and hopefully sleep. He waited for their elven husband to pick where he wanted before stretching out and trying to get comfortable. He was worried for Fenris, but he knew to leave well enough alone, that the other elf would speak when he felt like it.

Zevran slid across the bed then beckoned to Anders to lie beside him, so that the Antivan could lie between them both. He drank the potion, and Anders took the empty vial, setting it upon the bedside table as Zevran snuggled down next to Invictus, pulling the mage’s arm around his waist as he pressed his back against Invictus’ chest. Then Anders lay down, putting out the candles with a wave of his hand save for the one which always burned upon the bedside table on his side of the bed.

Zevran tugged Anders to lie against him so the elf was spooned around Anders, and wrapped one arm around the blond mage’s waist before he closed his eyes; and presently Invictus felt the elf’s breathing smooth out into sleep once more even as Anders began very quietly to snore.

Vic eventually fell asleep watching the door in the hopes that Fenris would get over himself and join them in bed, but that wasn’t to be. 


	52. Chapter 52

Invictus awoke first the following morning, which was a rarity in itself. He was surprised to find sunshine streaming in through a gap in the curtains and Zevran still asleep in his arms. At some point in the night, the slender elf had twisted around in his sleep and now had his face buried against Invictus’ chest. As the mage lifted his head and glanced over his sleeping husband’s shoulder, he saw Anders sprawled upon his back, one arm flung up over his eyes to block the shaft of sunlight that fell across his face, the blond apostate still dead to the world and snoring quietly.

“I would have a few stone of elf wrapped around me when I need to use the privy," Vic mumbled as he carefully pulled free and threw on pants before padding down the hall. The house was quiet as he emerged from the privy; the only sounds he could hear were Anders’ faint snores and someone moving around in the kitchen downstairs.

Curious as to who else was up, and hoping it was their angry elf; Vic padded into the kitchen to find Hal with a mug of tea. “You’re up early.” 

Hal glanced up, his eyes bleary and red. “Oh,” he said tiredly. “Invictus. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone else was awake yet. Did I wake you?”

“No, I think we’re the only ones up. Did you sleep alright?” Vic asked as he poured himself tea and joined the other mage. 

Hal laughed mirthlessly. “Do I _look_ as though I slept alright?” he asked, then ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. No... no, I don’t really sleep very well these days.” He stared into his mug of tea, then after a moment added, “What about you? You’re not normally about this early. I’m usually the only one up at this time.”

“I was restless and ...we had a fight last night, so I’m worried about Fenris since he didn’t come to bed last night," Vic admitted. 

“Oh Maker,” groaned Hal. “I’m sorry. I should have taken Arden upstairs sooner. He seemed to be having a more lucid evening than usual, but it can’t have been easy for you all to be around him. Was that what all the shouting was about?”

“It’s… I honestly don’t know the more I think about it. Fenris and Zevran have been in a damned mood for the last couple of days. I think the arguing over magebane and other things just pushed everyone’s buttons. He left last night and didn’t come to bed," Vic said tiredly.

“Maker. I should have stopped Arden before he brought that up,” murmured Hal. “I’m sorry.” He took a sip of his tea, then shook his head. “Invictus, it was very generous of you to say we could stay until the house is built, but I don’t think it’s right for us to stay and cause this fighting between you all. I’ll put Arden into a sleep then go into the village and find somewhere to buy a tent and camping gear - or perhaps I should hop to Skyhold and beg some gear from Krem. We’ll camp out until the house is done, down by the willow. We’ll be out of your hair by nightfall.”

“No, and that’s final. It wasn’t about you all staying in the house and I won’t have you out in the damn yard like that. Just, let us deal with Fenris if he decides to come in or back today," Vic replied. 

“Vic, no, seriously -” began Hal then fell silent as he looked up and saw the look on the other mage’s face. He sighed, then nodded in resignation. “Alright. But the moment you feel we’re being too much of a problem, say the word and we’ll be out of here. I _mean_ it, Vic. This whole wretched mess was my fault in the beginning and I won’t allow my foolishness to come between you all.”

“As you wish, but you are not going to run off. Just … if you see Fenris, let him alone unless he says something to you. He’s been in a nasty mood and I can’t figure out why. It’s not your fault either," Vic added when he say Hal look as if he was going to apologize again. 

Hal sighed. “Vic, I’m not going to fight you on this,” he conceded, shaking his head. “I’m too tired to fight anyone, to be honest, and I’m sick of all the fighting in any case. I thought all of that was supposed to be done when Corypheus was slain - and then again when the Qunari were thwarted and the Inquisition disbanded; but all that’s happened is that we all seem to have turned on each other instead. I feel like I’ve been ripped in several pieces, and all I can see is that there is no way for me to be whole without making one or more people very unhappy. I love Fenris - perhaps too much. And I care for the rest of you as well. But I also need to care for Arden, and I love him. And that’s always going to hurt Fenris, and I don’t know what I can do to make that easier on him or any of the rest of you.” He stared down at his mug as he cradled it in his hands. “I wish I knew the right words to say to Fenris. But I only seem to hurt him.”

“Make that two of us Hal, I can’t seem to find the right words either with him or anyone," Vic admitted.

Hal sat back and ran his hands slowly over his face as he exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes and froze as he saw Fenris standing in the doorway, unseen by Invictus who had his back towards the elf. Several expressions flickered over his face in quick succession - shock, alarm, regret, then worry as the elf stared at him.

He finally found his voice.

“H-hello, Fenris,” he managed, even as Invictus jumped and swore before turning in his seat to stare at the elf.

The elf glanced at both of them, not thrilled at having overheard them discussing him like that. It was one thing that always peeved him, a holdover from when he was property but he didn’t yell, he just walked in and got tea before sitting opposite them. “So go on, what else were you going to say about me?” Fenris said to his husband. 

“Fenris... it was my fault,” said Hal. “I don’t want to be a cause of conflict between you all - and I don’t want to hurt you. Any of you. But most of all you. And... I’m not sure how to make any of this work right now. I need to know what you need from me, Fenris. What can I do? How do I stop this cycle of us hurting each other and everyone else?” He stared at the elf, his mismatched eyes full of pain and worry.

“I don’t know what I need from you yet Hal, not right this moment.” Fenris glanced to Invictus his gaze cool as he awaited the mage’s answer. “You know how much I despise being spoken of like that, yet you all continue to do this when I could walk in or hear you anyway. So Vic, what is it that I’m not doing right this time?” 

“Fenris - please,” begged Hal. “Don’t do this. Don’t start fighting again - hasn’t there been enough already?” He pushed himself up from his seat, ignoring his cooling cup of tea. “I can’t sit here and watch you two tearing each other apart again - not after last night.”

“Very well, I will drop it as I have errands to run anyway,” Fenris said with a dark look to his husband. “I will return after I hire workmen, and if you can keep from gossiping about me like this, I will speak with you and our husbands.” 

“Love it’s not like that, you know we weren’t just idly gossiping behind your back. Stop this, please?” Vic pleaded.

“Later, when I am not...hurting,” the elf said before heading up to change clothes and go about his day. 

As he entered their bedroom, Anders rolled over with a small groan, then murmured something fitfully; beside him, Zevran slept on, the Antivan curled up on his side, clutching a pillow in his arms.

“Fenris,” slurred Anders, his eyes drifting slightly open.

“Go to sleep,” the elf said before ducking into the bathroom to clean up. He heard a faint whimper from the blond man as Anders rolled over and flung one arm over the side of the bed, fingers brushing the floor as he whimpered again.

The elf emerged, cleaned up and in better clothes than he’d slept in before grabbing his boots and sliding out of the room. He was still in a poor mood, but he hoped a trip to the village alone would do him good. 

As he headed back down the stairs, he heard low voices coming from the kitchen. In spite of his misgivings, he found himself drawing closer to listen.

“... I have no idea how to build a house,” Hal was saying, shaking his head at Invictus. “I mean - what do I know about building, or talking to workmen? I grew up in the Circle, for Andraste’s sake! I couldn’t even cook when Sebastian took me to Arden. I was Tranquil; I could enchant and scribe but I had no need of cooking skills - much less knowledge of how to build a house! Maker, I _still_ can’t cook. What am I going to do? Arden’s alright with campfire cookery but - Invictus, please, you have to help me!”

“I’ll help you, just calm down. We haven’t even figured out when it will be built let alone when you can move in. Don’t panic," Vic tried to reassure him.

“Easy for you to say,” argued Hal. “Arden is... I can’t count on him to know what to do, Vic. I’ll be trying to look after him as well as myself and... and I’ve never done this. There have always been other people around who knew what to do.” He looked up at Invictus, eyes wide in distress. “Maker, I’m - I’m _scared_ , Vic!”

“Hal! Hal, look at me its going to be ok. We’ll take care of you ok? Just calm down, take a deep breath,” Vic said. 

Fenris stood there watching from the shadows of the hallway, unable to tear his eyes away as Hal crumpled in on himself, trying desperately hard not to fall apart over the enormity of how his life was about to change even as Invictus tried to comfort him, and Fenris couldn’t help but think on how it had felt when he had struck out for freedom alone after slaughtering the Fog Warriors - alone, scared, and having to live for himself when for so long he had been cared for by others.

“Mythal, you’re punishing me aren’t you?” he asked before returning to the kitchen. “Hal, come with me to town so we can talk and if you’ll take it some advice,” Fenris said quietly.

Hal jumped and looked up at Fenris, startled. “F-fenris?” he stammered. “We weren’t talking about you, I swear it!”

“I know… I heard you. Get dressed and come with me,” the elf said with a glance to his husband. “We’ll be back later.”

Hal jumped up and nodded. He threw a glance at Invictus. “Thank you,” he said hastily. “I appreciate what you said... thank you.” Then he hurried from the room; they heard the light patter of his feet as he took the stairs swiftly.

Invictus got to his feet and reached for Hal’s abandoned, half-drunk mug of cold tea and moved to the sink. “Think you’ll be back by lunch?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Not sure, I have no idea how long it will take to find workmen and get back here. For now, I’d say don’t count on it,” Fenris replied just as neutrally. 

Invictus nodded, not looking around as he washed up the mugs. “You could go to Skyhold,” he ventured. “They’d have something knocked up pretty fast. Work space for Hal... they know what kind of set-up mages need. Nice little infirmary area perhaps. Library maybe. Dorian would help if you asked, wouldn’t he?”

“I’ll see what Hal wants to do," Fenris replied with a strange look at Invictus’ back. 

Invictus rinsed the mugs then reached for a cloth, drying them slowly. “So... that thing last night with Zevran,” he began slowly before turning to glance at Fenris, his expression carefully blank. “What was that all about? Because I’ve never known you and Zevran to fight like that. You’re his _carissimi_. He doesn’t have pet names like that for any of us, Fenris - just you. Anders is his heart, I’m his love - but you, you’re _carissimi_. He’d die for you. So, what gives?”

“Ask him, he’s the one who fucking came at me like that,” Fenris replied. 

Invictus merely stared at him, until Fenris began to feel uneasy, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other.

“Fenris - how many years have we known each other?” Invictus said quietly. “I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. And I know you love Zevran, and he loves you. And I can see when there’s something very, very wrong. You’ve been antsy as fuck and snarling at everyone love, and I wish I knew why. And I know Zev only snaps like that when he’s hit his limit. Last time it happened, he damn near came close to killing me in the sparring ring in spite of a broken leg, and Maker only knows what another stunt like that would do to him. So, before the two of you come to blows - please, love, if you can’t talk to me, promise me you’ll talk to _him_? Because it’s killing me to see you two at each other’s throats like that.”

The elf stared at him for a while before glaring at him. “I promise I’ll talk to him, and I’ve thought I was clear on what was wrong when I said my piece last night. Did you miss any of that or should I repeat it for you?” Fenris asked as he gave Vic a nasty look.

Invictus stared at him, then abruptly slapped the cloth down with a sharp crack against the counter before advancing towards the elf. “Right. That’s fucking _it_ , Fenris,” he said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “I’ve tried to be understanding and give you space, but fuck this. You don’t get to throw this shit in my face like this. You don’t get to speak to me like that. I’m not some fucking street dirt you want to scrape off your feet, _love_. If you remember, it was you who fell for Zevran first and you who wanted to marry him - so stop acting on your fucking high horse and fucking _talk_ to him before you start giving me lip like this. Get upstairs and talk to him or I swear to the Maker I’ll go fetch him right now and take the fucking risk he’ll shiv me.”

The look Fenris gave him was absolutely glacial before he turned and walked out, head up, back stiff and slammed the door. It was that or lose his temper entirely and start a fight with Invictus. He didn’t have anywhere to go, he just headed off in the opposite direction of town, unable to do much for the rage he felt. 

Hal stood frozen on the stairs, having heard the whole exchange. He watched, horrified, as Fenris stalked down the hall and slammed out the front door. He stared at the door for several minutes, unable to move, until a hand on his shoulder made him scream in alarm.

“Peace,” said Zevran quietly. “I think my _carissimi_ did not take Invictus’ words well. Go, I think Invictus will need some quiet company.” He began to limp slowly down the stairs; Hal blinked and stared at him as Zevran reached the bottom and reached for the walking cane he had reluctantly started using whenever he left the house, which was becoming increasingly rare of late.

“Wait - where are you going?” called Hal, belatedly hurrying down the stairs as Zevran headed for the door.

“To speak with my _carissimi_ ,” Zevran called back as he pulled open the door.

“No - no, wait!” cried Hal as he took a step towards the elf, but he was too late. The door swung closed behind Zevran, and the elf studied the ground for a moment before turning away from the path leading towards the village, and began limping determinedly after the other elf.

Fenris kept walking even as he heard something, he wasn’t sure if it was his name or merely a howl on the wind but he finally stopped under a tree, dropping to sit and catch his breath. He had no idea how far he’d come in his anger, but a glance up at the sky and the angle of the sun told him it was mid-morning. He was still furious but even he couldn’t keep such a pace for long. He closed his eyes and tried to relax and consider what to do.

He’d been there some time before he noticed a curious sound; something scuffling stones, a brief tap on occasional hard stone, and then harsh, ragged panting. Then finally, as he glanced back the way he had come, he saw a distant figure limp slowly, painfully, around the bend. The figure paused, perhaps staring up the steep hill Fenris had paced swiftly in his anger, and then the figure bowed its head and began limping up the hill, leaning heavily upon the stout cane it carried.

As he watched, the figure stumbled then fell heavily, lying in the dust for several long minutes before dragging itself slowly to its knees then struggling back to its feet before slowly limping on, up the winding hill towards him, the ragged panting carrying clearly to his draconic ears.

Fenris swore as he got to his feet and met Zevran on the hill. He scooped him up as the Antivan stumbled and fell again. Fenris was still angry as he put the other elf on the ground. “What did you follow me for?” he asked. 

Zevran was gasping for breath, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. There was a graze upon his left cheek, and blood trickled from his bruised and split lip where he appeared to have bitten his lip as he fell. He stared at Fenris, unrepentant.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” he gasped. “Will you speak with me?” He stared at Fenris as sweat rolled slowly down his face. too pale beneath his tawny tan.

“I have no choice do I?” Fenris said tiredly. He glared at the other elf, barely keeping his temper in check. 

Zevran lowered his head, fighting to bring his breathing back under control. “Just so,” he wheezed, nodding. “There is nowhere you can go that I will not follow.”

“So I see. Why did you follow me? You had to realize I would not be happy with you doing this on the heels of Invictus speaking to me as he did?” Fenris said, his gaze cool upon the other elf. 

Zevran glanced up at Fenris from behind the curtain of his hair, his golden eyes firm upon the other elf as his chest heaved, still fighting for breath. Then abruptly he straightened and threw his free hand around Fenris’ neck, letting the stick fall from his other hand as he clutched at Fenris’ collar and bodily dragged himself up to kiss Fenris fervently and desperately.

The taller elf waited until Zevran finished, and picked him up with a sigh. He stared into the golden eyes, perplexed at the kiss. “I have done nothing warranting such a kiss, why?” 

Zevran swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as he stared up into Fenris’ eyes. “Because I love you,” he whispered. “And I am afraid.”

“Of what?” Fenris asked, still wishing he’d been left to himself. 

“That my love is no longer returned,” confessed Zevran, blinking back tears. “That you will leave us. That - that - _carissimi_... what has happened between us?”

“Not… no it hasn’t," Fenris replied. “May I put you on the ground, and I will sit with you?” he asked.

Zevran let his head drop onto Fenris’ shoulder. “Forgive me,” he breathed. “Please... yes... talk to me, _carissimi_.” He glanced up into Fenris’ eyes, vulnerable and afraid as Fenris had so rarely seen him.

“Fine, I’ll talk," Fenris said as he put him down. He sat next to the other elf, and closed his eyes, irritated but unwilling to push Zevran away. 

After a moment, he realised that Zevran’s breathing was coming in odd little gasps, and as he glanced at the other elf he realised Zevran was crying silently.

Fenris opened his eyes and sat up, brushing Zevran’s tears away. “What has you crying, this isn’t like you to be so fearful and weepy?” He sighed as he realized the former Crow was not alright aside from injuries added from his falls. 

Zevran turned his face away, brushing Fenris’ fingers aside gently before wiping his face with his hand. “You saw what a toll it has taken upon me to reach you here, where once I could have run up this hill without a second thought,” he said quietly as he shook his head. “I am finished, _carissimi_. If yet one Crow somehow still lives in the world, then they would slay me easily and then they would be the Master. What am I? A cripple.” His voice turned bitter. “Fit for nothing except reminiscing on old glories; in my dotage before my time and I not yet out of my thirties. My life is measured now in the hours between doses of this, sips of that, brewed by Anders. That is no life, _carissimi_. I leave no legacy behind me save a death count and people I have taught to kill - such as your son. All that I have left to live for is the love of those I care for - and I fear I am losing that, too. And so I snap, I quarrel, from fear and anger and pain - and I make of myself even less than there was before. Zevran Arainai is gone, Fenris.” 

He lay upon the ground and stared up at the sky. “And now you will leave, for I fear I have already lost you. Arden should have finished me when he had the chance.” He closed his eyes.

The last made Fenris blood run cold, it was too much like his own words to Dorian a few months ago. He gently pulled the other elf into his arms and held him. “You haven’t lost me, please don’t talk like that, it terrifies me. If Arden had finished you, I would have murdered him on the spot for taking you from me...from us.” 

He tilted the Antivan’s face up so he could see the other elf’s face, wishing he could gaze into his eyes as he spoke his heart. “I love you, remember I told you no matter what I would be there for you? That hasn’t changed. I’m just as frazzled as you lately, I think we all are. I’m sorry Zev, I’m sorry I’ve been in such a foul mood. I don’t do well when I feel like I’m getting cornered. I’m not mad at you, I wasn’t at you when I left the house, I’m not done with you! Please look at me," Fenris begged, worried that Zevran was feeling more desperate than he’d realized. 

Zevran’s eyes remained closed as he lay in Fenris’ arms. “Leave me here, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “You yet have a life.”

“No, I am not leaving you in the damn road, what is wrong with you? Stop this, stop it, please!” Fenris’ voice wavered as he held the other elf, trying not to panic. “Zevran Hawke, please, please don’t say these things!” he begged.

Zevran opened his eyes slowly and gazed up at Fenris. “And now I have hurt you again,” he said quietly. “I am sorry, _carissimi_. It seems all I can do now is hurt others, and cause them pain.”

“Zevran, stop this. Stop, I am begging. You are not useless, you are not these things and I would have followed after if Arden had killed you that day. I begged him to hurt me instead, to not touch you. If I could take this pain from your mind and your body I would do it in a moment! Please, you’re my heart I can’t see you like this, so full of hatred for yourself. I love you dammit, please Zev come back to me!” he begged, tears falling as he tried to get the other elf to see he was loved and wanted. 

“I have been in pain from the day that Danarius nearly killed us all, my love,” Zevran admitted with a sigh. “Perhaps I am tired of hurting. It drains me, it drains my very soul and I am so very tired.” He stared up at Fenris and gave him a sad smile. “Ah, _carissimi_ , do not waste your tears upon me.”

“Stop, just fucking stop. I’ve had a hand in hurting you and seeing you like this is painful. We’ll get Anders to work on you, if he can fix that fool’s brain, he can do something for you. I won’t let you beat yourself up like this anymore. Please, don’t take this on alone. I said I love you, do you no longer think it true?” Fenris looked at him, fearful he had pushed the other elf away with his temper. 

“If you still love me, Fenris, then why do we still keep hurting each other like this?” begged Zevran, his smile slipping away before he turned his face away with a low sob. He threw his arm across his face and began to weep brokenly.

“No, no... Zev.” Fenris sounded heartbroken as he pulled the elf back into his arms and tried to soothe him, he rocked slowly, all while rubbing slow circles against his back. “I love you, I never stopped. I might be upset or angry but I love you Zevran, my heart, my _carissimi_ , _mi cariadad. Te amo, mi corazón, siempre la vida, te amo at ti._ ” His voice broke as he wept along with his husband, terrified at how broken the other elf sounded. 

Zevran’s sobs quietened slowly and he gradually relaxed into Fenris’ embrace, his head resting upon the other elf’s shoulder, his breath warm against the side of Fenris’ neck.

“Take me home, _carissimi_ ,” he finally whispered dully as he closed his eyes.

“Forgive me for hurting you, I’m sorry," Fenris replied before he snagged the other elf’s walking stick and headed home. He worried at how quiet Zevran had gone, the way he’d wept wasn’t like him. He got in to find the parlor full, and everyone staring as he tried to pass by. 

Anders rose to his feet and came towards them, eyes full of worry as he stretched out a hand towards Zevran. “Oh Maker,” he breathed as he took in the grazed and bruised cheek and Zevran’s split lip, and the way the Antivan lay so still in Fenris’ arms with his eyes closed. “What happened? How badly is he hurt?”

“He fell a couple of times on his way up the hill. I just want to put him to bed so we can talk and I… need to be with him for a while. Excuse us Anders," Fenris said as he looked away from their husband. 

Anders rested his hand lightly upon Zevran’s shoulder for a moment then leaned in to kiss the bruised cheek very, very gently before lifting his hand to cup Fenris’ cheek as he gazed up at the tall elf. “Alright, love,” he nodded. “May I... come join you both later? In a couple of hours perhaps?”

Fenris nodded, hating he felt so broken and unable to help his husband. He felt more tears on his cheek but couldn’t brush them away, instead he turned and went upstairs silently.

Anders turned to the others, his face filled with worry even as Ellowynne jumped to her feet and ran to him. “Dad, what’s wrong?” she exclaimed as she looked up at him. “Uncle Zevran looks so ill and hurt!”

“I think he must be in rather a lot of pain, sweetie,” answered Anders slowly, his eyes going to Hal then to Invictus.

“But - but you can fix that, Dad, right?” said Ellowynne hopefully. “Pin will help - won’t you, Pin?”

The elven girl nodded. “Of course I will, Wynne,” she agreed.

“As will I,” added Hal. “We’ll all help, Wynne.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed Fenris to talk, I should have left him alone when he was already in a bad way," Vic said as he gazed at the stairs, torn between going after them and staying where he was. 

“I think we should leave them alone for now Invictus, I’ve rarely seen papa look as bad off as that. He’s a broken man, and we’re not giving him enough time to pick up pieces before chipping away at him again," Callus said, annoyed when they turned to look at him quizzically. “What?” 

“I’ve seen him that bad,” sighed Anders, glancing to Invictus, who nodded. “We both have,” he went on. “But Zevran? Never.”

“Being injured, having a limp and being cut down in his youth is killing him I think. He was Master of Crows, Spymaster to the Inquisition and now he can barely get out of bed without a potion and a damn crutch. Its eating at him, like it would Fenris if he were in the same position. Can we do anything for Zevran’s leg or back?” he asked Anders. 

Anders sighed. “His whole body is one mass of scar tissue. It’s so much worse than the damage I cured in Arden after he came to us at Skyhold with the scars of Sebastian’s torture. But....” He looked down at his daughter. “Wynne may be right. With Hal and Pin’s help... maybe we can do something.”

“Do you think he’ll let us do anything to him? After all it was a magical attack that crippled him, I don’t know how he’s feeling about it now," Invictus reminded them with a look to Hal.

“We have to do _something_ ,” argued the redhead. “He can’t go on like this, that much is clear.”

“I’ll talk to him,” said Anders. 

“I’ll make some tea for them, and make breakfast too, neither of them ate before today went to the void," Vic said quietly. 

“I’ll come help,” said Hal. “You can show me what to do. Maker knows it’s time I learned.”

Anders looked back up the stairs; he could feel pain radiating from Zevran even from where he stook, and he heard a faint muffled sobbing which he suspected was Fenris.

“Master Anders?” said Pin in a low voice as she came to stand next to him.

“Pin... please send some of your little healing wisps up to Zevran,” he said softly. “The little invisible ones. They may help relieve Zevran’s pain - the physical pain, at least.”

“Yes, Master,” she nodded, then lifted her hands, palm uppermost, as she called the little healing wisps to her. A faint breeze stirred her hair and then was gone.

“Come on Hal, I think we all could all use a bit of food and tea about now," Vic said quietly. 

***

Fenris felt powerless. Zevran had seemed to relax a little shortly after Fenris had gotten him laid out in bed, the pillows carefully stacked to support his back, the crippled leg straightened out; but the Antivan elf had then turned his head to gaze dully at the wall, saying nothing.

He was still like that two hours later when there was a light tap at the door, and Ander’s voice, muffled.

“Fenris? Zevran? May I come in?”

“Yeah,” Fenris said, his voice rough from crying and attempting to talk with Zevran. The door opened and Anders entered, carrying a tray with several covered dishes and a pot of coffee.

“You both went off without breakfast; I thought you might need something to eat,” he explained as he kicked the door closed behind himself then hooked the leg of a small table with one foot and dragged it over beside the bed and set the tray down.

“I am not hungry,” said Zevran listlessly, still staring blankly at the wall. Anders frowned worriedly at him then glanced at Fenris in silent question as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Zevran’s hand; the Antivan let him take it without even glancing at him.

Fenris shook his head at Anders and glanced to the other elf. “He...thought that I don’t love him anymore," he said brokenly. 

Anders stared down at Zevran’s hand in his, the fingers limp and not returning the pressure of his as he squeezed Zevran’s hand gently. “Zevran... Fenris loves you, we _all_ love you,” Anders said, shaking Zevran’s hand gently for emphasis. 

“You and Fenris have quarrelled before and it wasn’t the end of the world, love! You were tired and hurting, but - this is a new day, and look - Fenris is still with us.”

Zevran sighed. “For how much longer? You will all grow tired of me in the end.”

Anders’ eyes widened. “What?? No, that’s not true!” he exclaimed.

“See! He won’t listen to me, please help him Anders," Fenris said as he wiped more tears away and got up to pace in distraction. 

Anders reached over to cup Zevran’s cheek and firmly but gently turned the elf’s face towards him. Zevran made no attempt to resist but merely let him, his eyes gazing dully at the mage, whose eyes softened as he stared at Zevran.

“Oh, love,” he sighed. “What’s wrong? You’re in pain. Let me help. Please?”

Zevran closed his eyes. “Do as you wish to me; it doesn’t matter,” the Antivan whispered.

“Stop saying that!” Fenris cried out, as he kept walking around the room. He was getting desperate as he heard how bad Zevran sounded, so damn hopeless. 

“Zevran,” said Anders gently. “Hal, Pin and I are going to help you. We’re going to heal you - slowly heal up all those scars inside you and take away all the pain. You want that, don’t you? No more pain?”

“Your words are meaningless,” murmured Zevran. “I do not remember what it is to awaken with no pain. I ache, even in my dreams.”

“Let them help!” Fenris begged. 

Zevran opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Very well,” he finally said softly. “Then, will you let me rest?”

“Zevran... please, look at me,” said Anders, shaking Zevran’s hand to get his attention. Zevran was still for a moment, but then looked at him. “Zevran, I’m going to go get Hal and Pin. I need you to sit up and eat as much food as you can stomach, alright? Healing takes a lot of the body’s reserves, and it will be less draining if you’ve eaten well first. I promise you can sleep after - you can sleep all you want! But I really need you to eat properly first.”

Zevran sighed. “Must I?” he asked tiredly. “I have no hunger.”

“Yes, you must,” insisted Anders. “Fenris is going to feed you if you won’t feed yourself. I’ve had him practically force-feed _me_ when I was as you are now, and believe me you don’t want that. Do you want to hurt Fenris even more by making him do that to you, Zev?” He glanced to Fenris, then back to Zevran.

The Antivan’s eyes flicked to Fenris.

The taller elf looked at him as he went to his knees to beg him to let them heal him, anything. “Don’t make me have to do that, I am begging for any love you have for me, for us. It will break me further Zevran. Please," Fenris asked as he took the elf’s other hand in his. 

Zevran stared at him, and his golden eyes slowly filled with tears. “I still love you,” he said hollowly. “I... I will eat.”

Anders breathed out and nodded. “Thank you. Just... just eat as much as you can, alright?” He glanced to Fenris as he rose to his feet, releasing Zevran’s hand. “I need to help Pin and Hal prepare,” he said. “There’s some things I need to gather from my workroom. We’ll be up in about an hour - try and get as much of this food into him as he can handle, and eat something yourself, alright?” He bent down to kiss the top of Fenris’ head as the elf knelt at Zevran’s side. “I love you both.”

“Okay," Fenris said shakily as he rose and got the tray for his husband and set it over the elf’s lap. He was subdued as he watched the Antivan eating slowly. He found he couldn’t stop tears from falling on occasion as he waited for the others to return. 

Zevran evidently had no appetite at all as he visibly struggled to swallow each mouthful, eating with no sign of enjoyment at all. But as Fenris nudged each dish towards him, Zevran would swallow hard against nausea then slowly begin to eat once more.

Fenris found his appetite wasn’t much better than the Antivan’s, and he was glad Anders had given them an hour - the going was very slow.

Eventually Zevran lay back and shook his head as Fenris reached for an apple and a knife, intending to quarter it for him. “Enough,” the Antivan protested weakly. “I cannot. Please, _carissimi_.”

“Anders said you must eat so you’ll be strong for whatever healing he is planning. Do not force my hand," Fenris said tiredly. He stared at the other elf, hopeful he would not fight him. 

Zevran shook his head. “Fenris... please. I cannot. If I try, I shall be sick. Have I not eaten enough, though it choked me?” He gestured at the empty dishes. “Please... no more.”

“Fine.” Fenris took the tray out of the room and tried to control himself, but failed. He didn’t know how to help Zevran out of the pit of despair he was in, and it was killing him. As it was, he was near panicking at how dark things seemed. 

Anders returned with Hal and Pin to find Fenris sitting in a chair beside the bed with a hopeless look in his eyes as he stared at Zevran, who lay with his eyes closed. Pin was carrying a tray with several lyrium vials.

“Fenris?” said Anders gently.

The warrior looked up at Anders in despair and motioned at Zevran before hanging his head again. 

“Fenris, we’re ready,” said Anders as he sat down on the edge of the bed; Hal was moving around the bed to climb upon it and settle himself on Zevran’s other side. The redhead bent over Zevran and began undoing the laces of Zevran’s shirt and peeling it open. Pin set the tray of lyrium down upon a low table then settled herself by Zevran’s feet. Zevran opened his eyes and glanced at Hal with only faint curiosity as the mage began undressing him; Pin had begun tugging Zevran’s socks off.

Fenris looked up at the assembled mages and Zevran. “Do...you need me?” he asked in a small voice, hoping they didn’t since he was a short way from running from the room and locking himself in his office.

Hal glanced up at him briefly as he reached to unlace Zevran’s pants. “It might go easier on him if you stay,” he remarked before he began to slide the pants down over Zevran’s hips. Fenris suddenly realised that Hal was stripping Zevran off completely; as Zevran’s cock was freed, Pin discreetly glanced away to busy herself with the bottles of lyrium.

Fenris nodded and pulled the chair closer, watching despite the urge to flee. “If...if he screams I may have to go, I’m close to breaking down as it is Anders," he admitted. 

“Hal will be monitoring closely to apply nerve blocks as needed; we’re going to try and do this as painlessly as possible,” Anders replied as he removed his over-robe and rolled up his sleeves. Then he turned and rested his hands around Zevran’s thigh, either side of the terrible scar that ran the length of the elf’s leg from groin to ankle, twisting the flesh. He closed his eyes as bright blue light began to shine between his fingers.

Zevran stiffened, his fingers tightening in Fenris’ grip as the Antivan gritted his teeth and made no sound; hastily Hal leaned over and pressed his hand against Zevran’s hip, his hand also glowing as he swiftly blocked the pain, and then Zevran relaxed back with a low groan.

Fenris watched Zevran closely, hating that his love was in so much pain and suffering. He hoped whatever they were doing would help him. He closed his eyes and prayed in Tevinter quietly as the others worked. 

They worked in silence, the only sounds coming from Zevran; from time to time, as Anders shifted his focus within Zevran’s body, the Antivan would stiffen again or twitch slightly. He never screamed, but instead gave a small hiss of sharply indrawn breath or a low grunt. At one point, when they rolled him onto his side to face Fenris and Anders laid his hand against the small of Zevran’s spine, a very faint whine - tight, the sound half-strangled - came from Zevran’s throat before he could master himself and Hal applied a swift nerve block.

Fenris lost track of the time, and it was only when Anders and the others straightened, looking drained and tired, that he realised the morning had passed and from the angle of the light shining through the window it must be late afternoon. Hal was drawing the covers up over Zevran’s naked body as the Antivan sprawled semi-conscious from exhaustion; still, he clung to Fenris’ hand however.

“That’s enough for this first session,” said Anders wearily. “There’s too much to do in one session.”

Fenris looked up at him. “You have to put him through that again?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Anders nodded, glancing down at Zevran sadly. “It took twelve sessions in all to heal the scars Sebastian’s torture had left upon Arden, back in Skyhold - and Arden’s scars were not as old as much of the damage in Zevran’s body, nor as extensive. There is old damage inside Zevran that dates back to the earliest days of his time in the Crows, not to mention from his time with Solona and the Wardens. But he should be in less pain now.” He glanced up at Fenris. “You’ve seen some of that damage for yourself, love,” he reminded the white-haired elf. “Remember? And that was before all that happened in Orlais, or Arden’s attack here.”

Fenris nodded as he held Zevran’s hand and stared at him. “He thought I stopped loving him, he…” his voice broke as he hung his head and wept for them both.

Hal regarded him sadly as he gently brushed flaxen hair out of Zevran’s eyes. “I think it’s clear how much you care for him,” he said quietly. He dropped his gaze to Zevran’s face; the Antivan elf had closed his eyes. “And I think it’s clear he still loves you very much,” he added. He turned away to reach for a bowl of water and a cloth with which to gently wash the sweat from Zevran’s face.

“Father, he’s going to be alright,” said Pin, her voice hushed. “Master Anders is very talented. And I’m sure when Master Zevran isn’t in so much pain then he’ll be able to tell you just how much he loves you.”

“He said, he said he thought he’d pushed me away. I’ve done this to him," Fenris said hoarsely. “I hurt those I love all the time, look at what I’ve done to my _carissimi_.” 

“No,” whispered Zevran very faintly. “This... this was the work of many hands, _car - carissimi_. The Crows... take much from their own. You never laid hands on me as they did... as Corypheus did... as Danarius did in the form of Invictus. What demon did this to me through Arden, I wonder?” He sighed faintly.

“Sleep, rest please," Fenris said as he gently pulled back from the other elf so he could rest. “I’ll be here when you wake, I need a bath and to think for a bit," he said. 

“Sleep... yes, sleep,” Zevran sighed as Hal gently patted his face dry with a clean towel. Zevran reached briefly for Fenris’ hand once more then he let it fall to the bed as he closed his eyes; his breathing slowed and deepened and very soon he was deeply asleep.

Fenris went downstairs for a bottle of whiskey before running a bath, silent as he watched the tub fill. Once he’d rinsed off, he slipped into the tub, opened the bottle and tried to remain silent as he cried for all the hurt he’d put upon the others, the way he’d helped Zevran along the path to his own spiral. Soon he was gazing at the ceiling while his mind went in circles about how it was all his fault and the others would be better off without him. 

Anders and the others returned back downstairs; all three mages looked drained and exhausted as they joined Callus and Invictus in the kitchen. Anders was dully surprised to see Garrett sitting there too.

“Marian’s outside with the Imp,” the young battlemage explained as he got up to put the kettle on and make tea for them all. “We’d planned to come visit anyway, but when Enchanter Invictus told us what’s happened we figured best to get the Imp out of the way.”

“Thank you, Garrett,” nodded Anders as he sank down into the nearest chair with a grateful groan.

“How is he?” asked Invictus.

“It’s... pretty bad,” admitted Anders. “Worse than Arden was. We’ve made a good start, and I think the nerve blocks Hal and I placed will give him some decent relief for a while. It’s going to take months though - I focused on the leg and his back, but there’s just so much scar tissue locking things up inside.”

“Damn," Vic said as he looked upstairs. “What about Fenris? He hasn’t come down with you all.” 

Anders shook his head. “Fen is taking it all very hard. Zevran apparently thought Fenris had given up on him and no longer loved him, and Fenris just doesn’t know how to handle that. Plus none of us have ever seen Zevran like this - just... giving up. It’s like Zevran just wants to lie down and die, and that’s scaring the shit out of Fenris. It’s scaring the shit out of _me_. Beside the pain he’s in, there’s just this deep... _weariness_ all through Zevran, like all the life is being slowly drained out of him.”

“It’s terrifying me,” confessed Hal shakily.

“I’m scared that Fenris is blaming himself, he looked so bad when he came down here. He took a whole bottle of whiskey with him! Even at his size he’ll be drunk and even worse off if we don’t check on him. He’s probably crying alone in a cold bath," Vic said as he considered going up to check on them. 

“Zevran told him it wasn’t his fault - just at the end, before he passed out,” said Hal. “But I don’t know if Fenris was paying attention at that point.” He shrugged, then folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. “Maker, that was exhausting,” he added. “No wonder Zevran passed out.”

Garrett set a mug of tea down in front of him. “You should eat and then go sleep,” he said. “That’s what Senior Enchanter Parcival always tells us we should do after a heavy healing session.”

“Go rest, and I’m going to check on Fenris. I hope he’ll listen to me," Vic said. He went up and as expected found the elf in a cooling bath, eyes closed with tear tracks on his face. “Hey.”

Fenris opened his eyes and hiccupped. “H-hey,” he managed to reply. He straightened and ducked his head, lifting his wet hands to scrub at his face.

“Feel like talking?” Vic asked as he circled around for a towel to help dry the elf off. 

“I don’t seem to be very good at it,” shrugged the elf. “Worse than usual, it seems.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, letting the water run down over his damp cheeks.

“Love, you know this isn’t your fault right? Zevran has been in a lot of pain for years, even before he came into our lives. Don’t beat yourself up like this please," Vic said as he dipped a hand into the water and grimaced at the coolness. “Get out, I’ll freshen the water.”

“Vic... he thought I no longer loved him,” sniffed Fenris, feeling tears threaten again - and here he’d thought he’d cried himself out and had no more tears left in him. “He said - he’d thought I’d given up loving him, and he just.... he lay down and asked me to leave him. As though I could just walk away and leave him lying in the dirt like that. And... and _I_ did that to him, Vic!”

“Fenris, you did not do that to him! Stop beating yourself up like this. Do you think it helps him or you to keep wallowing in despair? He’s going to wake up and need, no want you there next to him. I know you’re not ok, but this is a lot even for you. For what its worth, I’m sorry I pushed you to talk earlier that probably didn’t help things," Vic said as he formed a small fireball and dropped it into the water when he noticed the elf didn’t move. 

Fenris lifted his head, water dripping from his chin, and stared at Invictus incredulously. “Did you not hear a word I said?” he exclaimed. “He thought I don’t love him! How can that not be my fault??”

“I heard you love, and I’m going to say something that is difficult to say and no doubt hear but I need you to listen to me.” Invictus took his hands in his and stared into the elf’s eyes, darkened to a deeper green than usual. “You blame yourself for everything, for so much when its not your fault. Its why I tried to get you to talk to Zevran earlier. I love you so fucking much and it hurts to see you turn on yourself and us when you’re convinced something is your doing.”

Vic took a breath, hoping he was getting through to his beloved. “You are fatalistic - even now, with three spouses, and two lovers you are still convinced you’re unloveable and broken. You have been pushing us away, wanting more and more time to yourself and it’s scary, Fenris. I wonder what we’re doing to you to make us push you away, to want to be away from us so much. You are not broken either, you’re not unloved nor unwanted. Tevinter shouldn’t have you still feeling like this, like you aren’t worthy of love or a happy life. I swear sometimes its like you want to sabotage things and make your fears come true. For Maker's sake just fucking listen to us sometimes and stop convincing yourself you aren’t worthy. Its breaking my heart, all of us to see you like this. Then you snap and turn vicious and I know its not truly you my love, and I want to help you, please.” 

“Broken?” Fenris laughed disbelievingly. “Vic, I _broke Zevran_. I snapped at him last night when he - when both of you were right. Wynne’s just a child, and I wouldn’t see it, and he tried to show me gently. And I threw it back in his face! I did that, Vic - that was me, and I’ve done it too much. It’s my own fault he took it so much to heart, I should have seen how much pain he’s in, how he struggles - and I have done nothing to ease his pain!” He bowed his head and groaned. “Vic, he has so much self-hate in him - how could I have done that to him?”

“No more than you have for yourself Fenris," Vic said gently, wishing he would get the elf to hear him. “What do I have to do in order to get you to listen?” 

Fenris blinked and stared at the ripples in the water, stunned as it slowly dawned on him that he had said those same words to Zevran only a few hours previously. “ _Venhedis_ ,” he breathed softly. “This... this was how he must have felt.”

“What will you do now? Will you let him in, let him see how much he is loved and that you adore him? He loves you deeply and fear of losing that has made him vulnerable. Believe me I know how he feels," Vic admitted as he reached up to caress the elf’s face and get him to look at him. 

“I don’t want to lose him to this dark despair, Vic,” said Fenris plaintively as he finally met the mage’s gaze. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always been the most light-hearted of us all, and to see him ready to just lie down and die - it breaks my heart.”

“That’s how we feel when you do the same love. Go to him, be there when he awakens and talk to him, now that you’ve seen this from the other side maybe you’ll get it and can prove to him how much he’s adored and needed in our lives. Then you should get some rest yourself, you look ready to fall over yourself.” Vic kissed his forehead and sat back for a drying towel. “Come on, let’s dry you off and get you in bed with him.”

Fenris climbed out of the bath and dried himself off, squeezing out water from his hair before towelling it off. Then he allowed himself to be guided by Invictus back into the bedroom.

Zevran was still sleeping as they entered. He lay sprawled in the bed much as they’d left him, one hand still resting atop the coverlet as though reaching in sleep towards the empty chair beside the bed. The other hand rested upon the pillow beside his head upon the scattered blond hair. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes, his face gaunt and drawn.

“I thought Anders, Hal and Pin healed him?” whispered Invictus with a frown as Fenris slipped into bed and lay down beside the sleeping Antivan. “He looks like death barely warmed over!”

“Anders said the healing would take a toll on his body,” replied Fenris quietly. “He is exhausted.”

“I’m sorry love, I’ll leave you both until dinner," Vic said with a kiss to the cheek for both elves. Zevran’s cheek felt cool, almost cold beneath his lips, but Fenris was warm. The warrior leaned up and kissed him back with a worried smile.

“Go; we’ll be fine,” Fenris sighed. 

“Ok, open the door and yell if you need me. I’ll come up and get you for dinner, rest well love," Vic said as he left them to rest after a hard start to the day. 

He went straight to the kitchen to see what could be dinner and frowned. “Andraste’s tits, having this many people to feed is a pain.” 

Garrett and Callus looked up at his words. “Want us to come with you into town and grab some supplies, Enchanter Invictus?” asked Garrett.

“Sure, and you can call me just Invictus, I’m not First Enchanter anymore Garrett," Vic said tiredly. “Come on, we can get more with three of us going - actually get the horses, and hitch a cart to mine.” 

Hal glanced up at that. “Good idea,” he nodded. “Mind if I come along?”

Anders frowned at him. “Hal, you hate horses,” he remarked. “And you look almost as exhausted as I feel right now.”

Hal shrugged. “I can ride in the cart,” he replied. “And I should start getting some idea of how to judge how much food feeds how many people.”

Anders sighed. “Alright. Go on then. I’ll check on Arden for you whilst you’re gone.” He leaned over to kiss Invictus goodbye, then waved them off.

He watched them leave from the window; once the horses and the cart were gone from view, he turned back to make more tea. 

The house was very quiet.

***

Fenris hadn’t slept at all once Invictus had left him. Instead he’d curled around Zevran as he pondered their talk, and how low the other elf had sunk. He leaned over to kiss the Antivan on the lips, wondering when he’d wake up. 

Zevran’s eyelids fluttered slightly and he gave a faint sigh, his fingers twitching slightly. His skin felt cold against Fenris’ lips.

The taller elf brushed his fingers against the other elf’s cheek, worried when he felt how cold he was. “This isn’t right, you should be warm.” he mumbled. 

Zevran’s eyes drifted half open. “Fenris?” he murmured softly. “Tired....”

“You need to come down and eat again, smells like Vic made your favorites. I’m worried at how cold you are love. Can you open your eyes for me?” Fenris asked. 

Zevran gazed drowsily up at him, his eyes opening wider by a small fraction. “I would sooner sleep,” he slurred. He lifted a hand to stroked Fenris’ cheek languidly. “Ohhhh... _carissimi_ , you are so warm.” Zevran’s fingers felt like ice against Fenris’ skin.

“Anders said you needed to eat and once you have something you’ll feel better, and warm up. I’ll let my wings out and hold you if that will help? Please look at me, let me see you awake and with me," Fenris asked. 

There was a knock at the door. “Fenris?” called Anders, his voice muffled by the door. “Is Zevran awake yet?”

“Sort of, can you help him?” replied the Tevinter elf. He leaned in and kissed Zevran again, hoping for a response. 

Anders pushed the door open and entered, glancing to Zevran as the blond elf closed his eyes and rolled towards Fenris, trying to bury his face against the warrior’s chest. “Zevran, hey,” said the mage with a gentle smile.

Fenris caught himself before he could yelp at how icy Zevran felt against him. “He’s...c-c-cold as ice!” he got out before trying to get the other elf warm. “Why is he so damn cold? What’s wrong?” 

Anders frowned and hurried over to the side of the bed, lifting one knee to rest upon the edge of the bed as he reached over to touch Zevran’s skin. “Maker, he _is_ cold,” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked as he looked to Anders. “He’s not...he can’t be...you know.” he looked to the other elf and hoped he was just being overly afraid and Zevran wasn’t at death’s door. 

“The healing must have taken more out of his body’s energy reserves than I’d anticipated,” replied Anders. “He should warm up once he’s had a good meal though.” He patted Zevran on the shoulder. “Come on, love; you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten,” he added.

The Antivan allowed Anders to pull him gently away from Fenris, and between them they managed to get him out of the bed and dressed. Then Fenris carried him carefully downstairs to the dining room. There were too many of them to sit around the kitchen table, particularly with Garrett and Marian there.

The twins were plying Arden and Hal with questions; Hal was trying to deflect them as best as possible, whilst Arden merely blinked at them in bewilderment.

“Pin can you make a tray and bring it to the parlor? I’m going to get him into my chair by the fire," Fenris asked of his child before heading in to bundle Zevran up. 

“Should I get him a potion as well love?” Vic asked carefully. 

“Sure, if he needs it," Fenris replied tiredly. 

Zevran had glanced around the dining room at the others with mild curiosity; a brief flicker of disappointment crossed his face that was hidden as he buried his face against Fenris’ chest as he was carried on towards the parlour. It was gone as Fenris straightened from settling the Antivan in the chair by the fire however, so that Invictus wasn’t entirely he’d seen it.

“I’ve brought all his favourites, Father,” said Pin as she followed after with a plate piled high with the spiced rice dish that had always reminded the Antivan of his home, and ladlefuls of the rich spiced stew so redolent of Antiva.

“Need me to help you love?” Fenris asked as he took cutlery from Pin and pulled a chair next to the elf. 

“No, I think I can manage,” replied Zevran quietly as he stared down at the food. He hesitated for a moment, then began to eat, as slowly as he had eaten breakfast so many hours before.

“Would you like me to bring you your food in here also, Father, or will you be joining us?” Pin asked.

“I’ll wait until Zevran is done, then I’ll come get a bowl, thank you sweetheart," Fenris said quietly. 

She nodded. “Alright, Father,” she answered. She glanced at Zevran, who was forcing himself to eat, slowly, then with a last look of worry to her father she returned to the dining room.

“You should go join the others,” said Zevran in a low voice. “There is no reason why you should lurk here with me and deprive yourself of their company for my sake.”

“Did I not say I will be at your side always? Enjoy your food, they made your favorites," Fenris said as he leaned back in his chair so his husband could eat without him in the way. He left a hand on the other elf’s leg as Zevran struggled to finish all Pin had brought him. 

Zevran paused as Fenris spoke, his eyes upon the food before him. He winced as Fenris reminded him of the work the others had gone to for him, his expression hidden by the loose hair that fell forward. He blinked hard; he felt only all the more guilty that they had wasted such effort upon him. He hesitated, then took another forkful of food, somehow managing to choke it down. The spices may as well have been ash in his mouth, but he could feel Fenris’ eyes on him. Grimly, he continued to eat, glad that Fenris could not see his face.

He felt his eyes stinging, hot with tears, as he felt ungrateful and wretched. He was determined not to let the tears fall, however. 

He laid down his fork and reached for the glass of wine Fenris had set close by his hand.

“ _Carissimi_?” Fenris asked as he saw the other elf’s expression. “Do you wish to have coffee, or anything else? Do you want to be closer to the fire?” 

Zevran realised his eyes must be looking red; he shook his head. “No... no, the wine is enough,” he said hurriedly. “The spices - they are good, but very hot. It has been a while since Invictus has cooked this for us, has it not?”

“Yes, it has," Fenris took his free hand and kissed the palm, keeping Zevran’s hand in his as they sat there. 

Invictus watched them from the kitchen, worried for both of them since he couldn’t tell if Fenris had listened to him earlier or was still beating himself up. He noticed that the Tevinter elf hadn’t eaten yet, but he wasn’t going to push unless he tried to skip dinner entirely.

Zevran glanced away into the flames of the fire, the wineglass still in his hand. “You should join the others,” he said softly. “They sound happy.”

“I’m not fucking abandoning you," Fenris snapped without looking up. “Let me be here with you, please," he asked softly. “I love you, please don’t push me away.” 

Zevran flinched, and suddenly the plate was falling and he cried out, one hand belatedly reaching for it as the food spilled upon the floor. He stared it in dismay as rice and stew scattered across the hearthrug; and then to Fenris’ horror the Antivan curled up, his face away from Fenris as he began to sob dejectedly, burying his face in his hands.

Invictus came in to help clean up the mess and to allow Fenris to help with their husband. He gave the tall elf a long stare as he straightened and took the mess into the kitchen, breaking off to wash dishes.

“It’s ok, its alright, see Vic cleaned up for us. Its ok, please don’t cry," Fenris asked as he tried to get Zevran to turn over and face him. “It’s just a spill, its not that bad.” he looked up to see Anders at the doorway and he stared over Zevran’s head at their husband, entirely at a loss. 

Anders entered the parlour at Fenris’ look and came up behind Zevran. “Hey, love,” he said gently as he approached, before lifting one hand to gently stroke Zevran’s hair as he came to crouch down beside the chair and look up at the distraught Antivan. “It’s not just the spilled food, is it?” As Zevran only sobbed harder, Anders made soft gentle comforting noises and stretched out his arms to the elf, who after a moment slid out of the chair into Anders’ lap and buried his face in Anders’ hair, still sobbing bitterly as Anders gestured to Fenris to come join them, holding his free arm out to hug the warrior as well.

“It’s alright,” said Anders soothingly. “No-one’s cross, no-one’s angry, there’s nothing to feel guilty for love.” He pressed a kiss to Zevran’s flaxen hair. “You’re still tired, there’s so much going on in that head of yours, and you just wish it’d all switch off for a bit, hmm?”

Zevran managed to nod, jerkily, a hand pressed over his mouth as he tried to fight back his sobs.

“Yeah... I know. I’ve been there,” sighed Anders. “It’s alright, love. No-one’s judging you for that. We’ve been through so much shit the past few months, haven’t we?” He held Zevran close, rocking him slowly. “And the healing will be making you feel all raw and open and out of sorts and I’m really sorry for that. But trust me - it _will_ get better, love.”

Fenris shifted slightly since Anders had pulled Zevran fully into his lap and it was awkward sitting half holding the other elf. He felt sick at how beaten down his husband was, how something as simple as spilling food had pushed him to tears, which wasn’t normal. His head jerked up and he looked to Invictus before tilting his head towards the stairs. 

Vic caught the look and shook his head no, then glanced to the elf in Anders arms. Whatever Fenris wanted it needed to wait until they’d put him back to bed. 

Anders was now cradling Zevran in his arms, one hand gently stroking Zevran’s hair as he rocked him slowly, much as they had seen him do with Ellowynne after a nightmare, as the blond elf slowly calmed, his breath still catching oddly. “Are you still hungry?” Anders asked quietly; as Zevran shook his head, Anders pressed a kiss to his forehead. “That’s alright,” he reassured him. “Do you feel up to sitting with everyone else for a bit, or would you rather go back to bed?”

“I want to sleep,” Zevran managed in a hoarse whisper.

“Alright, love,” nodded Anders. He glanced to Fenris. “Love, would you help Zevran up?” He glanced around then spotted Invictus in the doorway and gave him a sheepish grin. “Think I could use a hand up off the floor myself, love; my knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“Of course, then _someone_ is going to have dinner after he gets Zevran in bed," Vic said with a meaningful look at Fenris as he helped their tall blond husband up. 

“I’m not hungry Vic. I’ll be back in a bit," Fenris replied as he headed for the stairs. He was silent as he got Zevran under the covers and got him a potion. “Drink this, and then I’m going downstairs for a while, I’ll be back with you soon.” 

Zevran nodded, his breath still hitching slightly; as Fenris took back the empty vial then turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed Fenris’ wrist. As the warrior looked down at him in surprise, Zevran’s eyes were lowered.

“ _Carissimi_... I am sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, try to sleep and I hope it helps you," Fenris said before dipping his head to kiss the smaller elf. 

Zevran closed his eyes. “Nonetheless, I am sorry,” he whispered. He tugged the covers up over his shoulder then hunched down, his face almost hidden.

“As am I, for failing you my heart," Fenris whispered as he closed the door and headed back down, only to curl up in his chair and try not to fall into despair again. 

“Fenris,” said Anders gently from the doorway. “I know it’s hard to see Zevran like that. But you need to come eat. You’ll do him no good by starving yourself.” He regarded the elf sadly. “He can’t handle much at the moment; everything’s too raw, and this wasn’t about spilled rice on the hearthrug. Come on, love. Sleep’s the best thing for him right now, but I think you need to be around people for a little while or introspection is going to eat you up.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Take it from an expert.”

“I’m not hungry, I’ll just throw up if I eat now," Fenris said before curling up more in his chair, even tugging a blanket over his head in an attempt to block them out. 

“Fenris,” said Anders patiently. “Come on, love. I’m not asking you to eat a five-course banquet. Just pick at what you can manage. But I don’t think it would be good for you to just sit in here like this. Please. Come with me back into the dining room. At least have a mouthful of apple pie.”

The warrior popped his head out to turn and stare at his husband with reddened, teary eyes. “I..can’t. Please, just let me alone. I will be sick if you force me to eat anything.” Fenris’ voice wavered as he looked at Anders, then backed down and curled up again. 

Anders stared at him, worry gnawing at him. He walked slowly towards Fenris and held his hands out towards him. “Fenris?” he said softly. “I could make you a cup of tea? Please love... talk to me, if you can?” He lowered himself down to his knees in front of Fenris and reached for his hands. “What’s wrong, love?”

The elf sniffed as if he was going to start bawling too but turned inward and tried to keep from snapping since he knew Anders was trying to help. When the mage didn’t leave, he tugged the blanket down and reluctantly started talking. “I can’t help him, I can’t. All I can do is fucking hold him and watch while he suffers. I can’t heal his wounds, his mind. What good am I to someone I love? He won’t even hear me when I apologize; he apologized to _ME_ when I got him settled, when he had nothing to apologize for. He’s suffering and I can’t do anything. I’m scared he’s going to die and it will be because I could not help or do a single fucking thing. All this power, this strength from Mythal, and what damned good am I? None at all.” 

Anders gazed up into Fenris’ eyes, his own warm and sympathetic. “Love... when I came out of my year in solitary, I was pretty much like Zevran. I couldn’t handle being around people, and I felt too raw, too wide open. The few that dared let themselves care enough to try and help me didn’t know how. You know what helped me the most - what also got me through that voyage to Tevinter and the whole nightmare of our journey, being collared again?” he asked softly. As Fenris shook his head, Anders smiled sadly.

“It was having someone who cared enough to just hold me, even when they didn’t know how to fix me,” he said quietly. “Just knowing someone loved me enough to do that. In Kinloch, that was Karl - and they took him away from me and sent him to Kirkwall for that. They sent away the first man I ever dared let myself love, Fenris, for the very crime of loving me enough to give me a little human comfort when I would have laid down and let myself die after surviving over a year in the darkness of solitary.” He swallowed, his eyes glimmering a little. “No-one’s going to send you away from Zev for loving him, Fenris, even if you don’t know how to fix him. But you don’t know how much it’s helping him, just knowing you’re there, that you care for him, that you hold him even when you don’t know what else to do.” 

The warrior didn’t know what to say to that, he knew and felt Anders was right but he was so full of despair that it was hard to hear him fully. “Maybe I’ll just go lie down with him, Maker knows I can’t manage anything else right now.” he sat up with the blanket in his lap, looking lost and young as he glanced down at his hands, noting their wedding rings and the glimmer from the fire dancing along them. 

Very tentatively, Anders reached up and laid his hands over those of Fenris and squeezed them gently. “Fenris, even that would help him right now,” he said quietly. “Just hold him whilst he sleeps. Even in dreams, he’ll know he’s not alone.” He stared up at the elf. “Can I hold you, love?” he said, his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Because _you’re_ not alone. I love you.”

Fenris nodded his head yes and felt a tug on his hands to join his husband on the floor. He curled up against the mage and finally let his walls down, crying silently against the other man’s shoulder, shaking through his tears. He felt Anders’ long, slender fingers combing through his hair as the mage held him close, murmuring comforting nonsense in what sounded like very rusty Anderfels. He had no idea what the words meant; only that they were comforting.

Anders glanced up at the doorway, at the shadow in the hallway beyond. He was fairly certain it was Invictus, but he only continued to murmur gently to Fenris, letting his mind sink back into the half-remembered cadences of his mother’s tongue; to the phrases he distantly remembered his mother saying when he was lost and unhappy; the ones he’d last heard through a bolted cellar door, gently whispered to a frightened twelve-year-old boy locked in the dark.

Eventually the elf sat back and scrubbed at his face as he gave Anders an attempt at a smile. “Sorry I got you all wet. I think I need to lie down," Fenris said hoarsely, as he got up and helped Anders to his feet. “Excuse me.” 

“Do you want me to come up and tuck you in?” asked Anders. Fenris darted him a suspicious look, afraid Anders was teasing him, but saw only sincerity in the faint smile that curved Anders’ lips, the mage’s eyes sad.

“No, you should stay with your daughter and the others. I’ll be...I’ll survive, it's what I do after all," the elf said before heading up to join their husband in bed. At least he could cry with just one person seeing him instead of everyone in their house watching. 

Anders stood staring at the fire as Fenris left him; he slowly wrapped his arms around himself as he stared into the flames. Only when he had heard all go silent upstairs did he finally let himself glance to the doorway.

“Vic? I could really use a hug, love,” he said sadly. “And then I need light and people and a bloody good drink.”

The brunet pulled him into his arms, giving him a kiss for added affection. “I want to join you in that drink. First, tell me that you noticed their responses aren’t normal for either of them? I’m worried we have a visitor like we did in Kirkwall. I hope to Maker not, but this isn’t right," Vic said as he held Anders close so he could whisper in his ear.

Anders grew still. “You’re thinking a despair demon?” he finally answered, his voice equally hushed. “Maker, but... how?” He shuddered, and suddenly the long scar down his back that ran from shoulder to hip itched as he remembered the last encounter they’d had with a despair demon. He remember how it had preyed upon Invictus, the burning pain as it had lashed into him; and he held Invictus tighter as though to keep him safe from the memory.

“Wynne,” he breathed. “Pin and Marian have to take her back to the College until I’m certain they’re safe.”

“Of course love, maybe tell them it's to keep Zevran and Fenris being overwhelmed as they heal?” Vic whispered. 

Anders shook his head. “No, I need to let Marian know, at the least. I’ll send them with a letter for Dorian to let him know what’s going on. We don’t want to risk this thing following through after them - and maybe Dorian will have some idea where it may have come from.”

“Alright, get your letter together and talk to Marian, I’ll get a bag ready for Wynne. Be calm love and don’t let them see you upset.” Vic kissed him again and pulled away slowly to go to the girl’s room and prepare a bag for her. 

“Uncle Vic?” asked Ellowynne from the doorway. “What’s going on? Are we going somewhere?”

Invictus gave her a smile as he continued to pack a bag. “Yes sweetheart, working on Uncle Zevran is going to be hard and we think it’ll be better if there were not as many people in the house to see him after he’s been healed. He gets upset a lot easier now, its nothing you’ve done ok?” 

She looked at him with large, disbelieving eyes. “This is because I shouted at Uncle Fenris, isn’t it?” Her eyes began to fill with tears. “I said I was sorry - Uncle Vic, please don’t send me away! I’m really sorry - I _promise_ I’ll be good! Please don’t send me away from Daddy and Uncle Zevran and you!”

Vic knelt down and pulled her into his arms. “Sweetheart, its not because you yelled at Fenris, he was upset and hurt that you yelled at him but we’re not sending you away because of that.” He brushed her tears away and tried to get a smile out of her. “Uncle Zevran is really unwell, and when he’s sick he gets very crabby and doesn’t like being seen very much. This is for his comfort ok? It’ll just be for a couple of days until he’s feeling more himself. You haven’t done anything wrong to be sent away, alright?” 

She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand as she sniffed. “Is - is it the demon?” she asked, hiccupping slightly. “Has it come back again?”

“What?” Vic asked her in shock. “What are you talking about?” 

“Back when I caused the fire. There was a demon and it kept hanging around Uncle Zevran, but whenever I tried to tell anyone it put me to sleep so I couldn’t do anything,” she said quietly, subdued. “Then it went away and I thought maybe you’d chased it off, or maybe Daddy or Uncle Fenris, or maybe it just gave up - but then Uncle Zevran just seemed to get sadder and sadder lately, and he hurts more, and it’s just like the demon being here all over again except I can’t see it.”

“Sweetheart, are you sure about that? If you are we have to tell your dad right now," Vic asked as he tried to calm himself. 

She nodded firmly. “They taught us in the Circle how to watch out for demons, and how they’d come if we weren’t careful - and that the templars would have to deal with us if we gave in. But there were often despair demons around some of the enchanters - the mages that had passed their Harrowings. I think that’s why Rachel eventually jumped from the top of the tower after they took her baby away - she just gave up. She looked just like Uncle Zevran, those last few weeks. Uncle Vic, I’m certain.”

Invictus caught himself before he admitted what had happened before the fire, when they realized the demon had taken her form at times. Instead he took a deep breath and stood. “Imp, go call your father in here. Don’t yell, don’t say anything about a demon, just say you need him, please.” 

She nodded, her eyes wide and serious. She ran from the room; a few minutes later, she returned, her father following behind. He blinked when he saw the expression on Invictus’ face.

“Love, what -” he fell silent as Ellowynne closed the door and then pushed him over to a chair. He sat as she tugged him down, then watched, bewildered, as she pulled a box out of her pocket and pressed it into his hands. He stared down at it. “My... my heart pills? Sweetheart, what -”

“She knows about the demon, she said it was here before and when she’d try to warn us, it would put her to sleep. So no point in sending her off, take a pill because you look a hair off from needing it," Vic said as he slowly paced around the girls room. “Last time we fought a despair demon, it took a blood mage to summon it and it nearly killed Fenris through me. If it's been here a while, enjoying a lovely meal off us with all the sh--, things going on around here, it's stronger than the one we fought back then.” 

Anders stared at Invictus, and swallowed hard against the knot of fear in his throat. “Then you were right. It _is_ a demon feeding off Zevran. Fenris, too? Maker - Vic, we need help. We need Meneris and Dorian. I have to protect Wynne - I, I, this is -”

“Dad - take your pills,” said Ellowynne firmly. “It’s going to be alright. Remember, Marian and Garrett are here, and Uncle Vic trained them - back in the Circle they’d have been Harrowed by now. They’ve passed nearly all their tests; Senior Enchanter Parcival said they’d make Enchanter at Midsummer’s Day. And I’m _twelve_ , Dad.”

Anders’ hands shook as he obediently took a couple of his pills, swallowing them dry with a faint grimace.

“I wonder if its been nibbling on Arden too, he’s barely holding on by a thread and the way he looks would explained by a demon enjoying a snack on someone else who’s given up hope. Fu--” he cut himself off as he looked at Wynne. 

“I’m going to call Dorian, and see if he can come help us then we deal with the demon. I hope hope it doesn’t take anyone else out. Might as well go back in the parlor and tell the others what’s going on, no keeping it a secret now," Vic said before heading to Fenris’ office to ring their friend. 

“Arden,” Anders said softly to himself, almost as though he’d forgotten his daughter standing beside him. “Maybe that’s why the healing went so hard. He fought it - and it was like something drained him... but maybe it followed him, before then -”

“Could the demon have been why he attacked Uncle Zevran?” asked Ellowynne quietly. He nodded.

“It’s possible, love,” he agreed. “Come on - let’s go join the others.”

“Dad, wait -” she said, clutching at his arm as he rose. “Hal. He’s in his room with Arden. We should bring him downstairs with us.”

Anders stared down at her, then nodded. He walked to the top of the stairs, and glanced down at Ellowynne. “Go down to the others and ask Marian to come upstairs,” he ordered her.

“Wait, Dad,” she said, and dashed back into her room. A moment later, she returned with a bundle in her arms. “I’ll be right back.” She dashed downstairs.

Invictus came out of Fenris’ office in time to see Marian come join Anders at the top of the stairs; she was carrying a pair of long fighting knives that seemed familiar, and as she and Anders turned and started to walk back up the hall towards Hal’s room, Invictus suddenly realised where he’d seen them before. They were the enchanted blades that Belann had used.

“Where did you get those?” Vic asked her.

“Wynne gave them to me,” said Marian. “Callus has taught me some knife work - Garrett could never get the hang of it, but Wynne’s seen me practicing. These are slightly lighter than the one’s I’m used to, but they’re enchanted.”

“Alright, I guess we’re doing this soon as Dorian arrives," Vic said with a glance to the others. “Love are you up to a fight with a demon? Or do you want to be support for this one? Not doubting you, but you know how hard that fight was and we were all a bit younger and stronger then," Vic asked Anders. 

“I don’t exactly have a lot of choice,” said Anders. “We were about to go get Hal. He’s in his room with Arden - and I’m wondering if that demon hadn’t been here all along, feeding off him first of all. The way he attacked Zevran... Vic... we’ve seen that before. That... I _said_ it wasn’t Arden, I _said_ it! And now Hal’s alone in there with him, and if that demon isn’t with Fenris and Zevran right now then it’ll be in there. We have to get Hal first.”

“I wish Wynne had burned the damn place down, maybe it would have taken the demon with it," Vic muttered angrily. “Come on, let’s get this thing away from them.”

Marian led the way down the hall, the blades readied; they felt the whisper of magic and a moment later ice flaked from the blade in her left hand, whilst a flicker of fire wreathed around the one in her right hand. She stopped in front of Hal’s door, and lifted the fire blade to rap on the door with the hilt. They all felt the touch of a barrier spell tightening over their skins as Anders called up shields for them all.

“Hal? Are you alright in there?” she called. There was no answer. With a worried look at the others, she stepped back and then kicked the lock, hard. The door burst inwards, and then they all pressed forwards.

Hal was sprawled on his back on the floor, something large and dark hunched over him, seemingly ravaging the unconscious mage’s throat though they could see no blood. Arden was lying in a heap next to Hal, one hand reaching towards him; as they stared in shock, Arden managed to lift a hand and weakly threw a spirit blast at the creature. It reared back with a long, sibilant hiss.

Marian leapt into the room; she spun the blades in her hands and then levelled the ice blade at the demon and unleashed a blast of ice at it.

Invictus followed up with another Spirit bolt aimed at the creature as he approached it, careful to get in front of the other mages. “Arden, run," he said as he summoned more ice to match his student’s attacks. 

Anders threw himself down next to Arden, who was weakly struggling up onto his hands and knees; Anders threw up more shields over Arden and Hal before casting a rejuvenate on Arden. The former Champion lurched up to his feet, grabbing Hal and shoving the unconscious redhead at Anders.

“Get him out of here,” he said tersely before he turned to face the demon and hurled another spirit blast at it, this one far stronger than his first effort. He glanced back over his shoulder at Anders. “Go!”

Anders staggered back, dragging Hal with him as he watched the others slowly crowding the demon into the corner with attacks of ice and spirit. As he got to the door, he hastily dragged Hal out into the hall and laid him on the floor before hollering over his shoulder for Callus.

Even as the young elf burst out of the parlour and came pounding up the stairs, a portal winked open in the hallway and Meneris and Dorian leapt out.

“Dorian! Meneris!” cried Anders, on his knees next to Hal as he tried to rouse the comatose young mage. “It’s a despair demon!”

Dorian nodded. “We’ll handle this, never fear,” he answered as he and Meneris pressed past to enter Hal’s room, Callus just behind, where they found Marian, Invictus and Arden fiercely battling against the despair demon.

The furniture in the room was smashed, as was the window. As they leapt into the room, Invictus barely ducked in time as the despair demon lashed out with a tentacle that only just missed the mage and instead tore into Arden’s side. The blond mage was wearing only a pair of sleep pants and completely unarmed save for his magic; he screamed as the tentacle sliced open a bloody furrow across his ribs and he dropped to one knee as blood ran down his side, but he glared at the demon in fury and unleashed a blast of raw spirit fire back at the demon in return and it recoiled with a hissing scream.

Invictus snarled as he unleashed a stronger spirit bolt at it, hoping to take it down enough to end it. “Fuck, I wish Fenris was awake," he snapped as the demon lashed out and caught him on the arm. 

Meneris leapt towards the demon with an overhand slice of his sword; as he dodged the demon’s replying attack Marian darted in and buried both knives into the demon’s tentacle and it screamed as stinking ichor dripped upon the floor. Dorian followed up their attacks with a blast of entropic fire and with a fierce shrill shriek the demon turned and smashed a hole through the wall as it fled through the bathroom and then smashed its way into the bedroom beyond, where Zevran and Fenris still lay.

There was a brilliant flash of blue-white light and a furious yet fear-filled roar. Invictus and Meneris exchanged a look.

“Guess Fenris is awake now,” gasped Arden as he lurched to his feet, clutching his ribs as blood ran down his side. “Come on.” He leapt through the hole into the bathroom, and ran across to throw himself through the other hole into the bedroom beyond where the sounds of a loud, messy fight could be heard.

“Shit!” Marian raced after him, the others close behind. 

Fenris was lit up bright enough to nearly blind the others as he fought the demon with claws out, each strike parried by the creature served to make him angrier as he snarled and circled to keep it away from Zevran. His wings had sprouted as he lunged at the demon, intent on ending it. 

Arden was bleeding from several deep cuts as he fought alongside the elf; he wielded raw magic with his hands, hurling ice and spirit energy at the demon. Meneris and Marian darted in with their blades, timing their strikes in and around the elf’s blows, fighting to keep the demon’s attention upon them instead of Arden and Invictus as the two mages focused on ice and spirit magic, and Dorian as he wielded entropic energy against the creature.

“Stand clear!” Arden yelled as he called up lightning in his hands.

“It's mine for what it's done," Fenris growled as he readied himself to take whatever passed for the demon’s heart, not hearing the mage as he leapt, right as Arden cast. 

The lightning bolt struck the demon right at the very moment Fenris’ fist punched through to curl around the centre of the demon and the dense knot of matter that seemed to function as its heart or possibly mind. The elf felt the demon shudder even as white-hot fire leapt along his arm and he felt his whole body convulse. He was distantly aware of screaming - his, the demon’s, other voices? He had no idea. He could smell the stench of burning flesh and singed hair -

And then he was lying on his back amidst the wreckage of the bed and voices were shouting, he could still smell something foul and burning, and Zevran was somehow still asleep in the broken bed and Fenris was laughing.

As he sat up and looked around, he realised the room was a total write-off. Somehow Anders was there; he, Dorian and Marian were crouched over someone who was sprawled on their back on the floor near the door where they seemed to have been thrown the length of the room, a long smear of blood on the carpet showing the path they took. Meneris was wiping demon ichor off his blade and staring at the blackened patch of slime that was all that was left of the demon. And Invictus was staring at him, worried.

Fenris laid back down and kept laughing that strange, wrongly pitched laugh that always made Invictus worry that he’d finally just lost his mind. He actually rolled over and laughed so hard he snorted, and coughed once the stench of burning hair hit him. “Is that from me?” he rasped as he had stopped cackling and was just giggling as he looked at Zevran, and then himself. 

He looked at the Antivan elf, took in the shattered room and went right back to laughing, mixed with shock that the other elf had slept through the whole fight. The bed around them was a wreckage of broken beams, one bedpost hanging drunkenly from the remains of the frame.

Dorian was straightening, Arden’s body in his arms as Anders tiredly gave directions to the others; Marian was sitting back and brushing hair out of her face with one hand, unaware she was smearing demon ichor across her cheek. Callus was picking over the mess; he bent down to pick up one of Marian’s knives and started cleaning it.

Invictus came over to get Fenris upright and hopefully stop him from unnerving him with his laugh. He tugged at the elf, then made a face when he realized just how much of his hair had been singed off. “Love, I hope you weren’t attached to that ponytail because, well...you got a bit fried," he said as he brushed the elf’s shoulders off and cringed at the way most of it had been burned away. 

“How in the Maker’s name did you survive?” Vic said with a cough.

“I..don’t… know," Fenris got out between giggles. “What smells so bad, did you burn dinner?” he asked as he finally noticed the look on Invictus’ face and heard him. “How bad is it?” 

Invictus was distracted from answering as Zevran stirred, turning his head slightly as his nose slowly wrinkled at the smell in the room and then his golden eyes blinked open, dazed and confused. “What... is that horrendous smell?” he slurred.

“My hair I guess?” Fenris said before he could stop himself from giggling again. “Can I quit now, please? Can I just quit, please Vicky?” the elf asked as he grabbed at his husband with a fearful look. 

Zevran struggled to sit up, his eyes widening as he took in the wreckage of the bed all around them, the smashed furniture, the black charred slime where they’d defeated the demon, and all the people in their room - including Dorian who was kneeling on the floor, holding Arden upright as Anders was trying to bring the other blond mage around. Half of Arden’s hair had been scorched off, and there was a nasty cut across his ribs and another across his chest. An ugly burn ran down the side of the mage’s face which Anders was carefully healing even as he tried to get Arden to open his eyes. 

Dorian had a cut upon his cheek and another above his eye; Meneris’ silver arm was smeared with soot and his tunic had been shredded. Marian had a long shallow cut down one arm that she was only belatedly noticing. 

And then Zevran finally glanced to Fenris, and his eyes widened further. “ _Carissimi_!” he cried.

He turned at the other elf’s cry, glad he was awake finally. “Have a good nap?” he asked before crawling over their ruined bed and curling up with the Antivan. 

Zevran stared down at Fenris, running his hands over Fenris’ body feverishly for sign of hurt or injury, his eyes wild with alarm as he lifted his hands to cradle Fenris’ face and stare at the singed remains of the other elf’s hair. “ _Carissimi_ , what - what happened, what is this? How did this happen?” He looked wildly at Invictus, who was belatedly noticing his own cuts and bruises, fingering the shredded remains of his left sleeve with a frown.

“We had a demon problem, things got messy," Fenris said as cuddled closer to the shorter elf and closed his eyes. “Sorry for breaking things _carissimi_ ” he said. 

“Love, you’re not alright and you need a bath to get rid of the burnt hair. Pretty sure that Zevran would like to be comfortable and off the wreck of a bed too," Vic said with a strange look to the Tevinter elf. 

Arden was slowly coming around, opening his eyes and wincing as Anders healed the burns to his face and neck. He stared around the room dizzily.

“ _Amatus_ ,” Dorian called to Meneris as he helped Arden sit up. “I think this place is pretty much unfit for habitation. Back to Skyhold, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Wait... no,” Arden said dazedly. “I’m supposed to be dead - didn’t you tell me I’m supposed to be dead, Anders?”

“Not in this reality, no,” said Dorian. “You can thank Hal for that; his little jump rather reordered time. We are the only ones who know that you should be dead. To the rest of Thedas, you merely disappeared.”

“Wait, what?” said Marian, startled. “What are you talking about? We all just assumed -”

“I shall explain to you later, Marian,” sighed Dorian. “It’s doubtless time you and Garrett both knew the truth in any case; I am very impressed that Pin has not yet told you the whole story. That girl is the very model of discretion.”

“Can I have my room back?” Fenris asked from where he refused to get up and let Zevran up as well. 

“Love, maybe you shouldn’t be off to yourself again after this?” Vic said with a concerned look to Zevran, then Anders. “Can I get you into a bath please?” 

“Let’s get you all back to Skyhold, bathed, clean and fed, and _then_ worry about room assignments,” said Dorian firmly. “And I for one vote no further argument until I’ve had a bloody strong drink.”

They heard footsteps outside and then Pin’s voice exclaiming over Hal.

“Dad?” Ellowynne was standing in the doorway, looking around at the mess. “Hal’s out cold on the floor in the hall and we can’t get him to wake up.” 

“Love, I don’t -” began Anders, then swore as Arden suddenly lurched and began struggling to get to his feet.

“No you don’t,” said Dorian firmly as he held Arden in place, the Tevinter magister far stronger than the blond mage. “Sit still and let Anders finish. You hit that wall pretty hard. Hal isn’t going anywhere, and Anders will get to him shortly. Pin’s with him; he’ll come to no harm now.”

“The - the demon, it was feeding on him, on his life force,” said Arden, still struggling to free himself from Dorian’s grasp.

“Alright, everyone who can move go to the parlor right now,” ordered Invictus. “Callus, help Zevran downstairs and I’ll get Fenris cleaned up and hopefully more with it.” Invictus went over and pulled Fenris up to his feet so the younger elf could get Zevran up.

“Someone pack bags for us, don't’ bother with anything in this room since its trashed," he added as he tried to get his elven husband moving.

“I’ve got Hal,” Garrett called from the hallway. “Pin and I will get him downstairs.”

“Wynne, love, go down with them,” said Anders. “We’ll be down in a moment, alright?”

“Should I pack my things, dad?” she asked. He nodded. 

“That would be a good idea,” he agreed. “Grab your pack and meet us downstairs, love.”


	53. Chapter 53

Two hours later, they were gathered in Meneris and Dorian’s rooms in Skyhold. The keep’s kitchen staff had rustled up food for them all, and after a hasty conference between Dorian, Anders and Parcival, several sets of spare robes had been sent over for the mages in their group, whilst Callus and Meneris had had clothing sent up for the others from the Chargers’ quartermaster.

Anders and Pin had gone around healing everyone, and Hal had been roused with some careful application of healing and spirit magic. He was now sitting on one of the couches, resting against Arden who had one arm around him, a glass of brandy in his other hand. Callus was walking around the group, topping up the glasses of those who needed it. His sister was sitting on the floor near Anders’ feet on a large cushion by the second couch, her arms around Marian as she pressed a kiss to the blistered cheek of the raven-haired battlemage.

Invictus sat in the middle of the couch, his arm around Anders on one side and Fenris on the other; Zevran snuggled against Fenris’ other side, his head resting on the taller elf’s shoulders and his eyes closed.

Garrett was lounging in a chair next to the couch, watching as Callus topped up Meneris’ glass. The former Inquisitor and his magister husband had taken the third couch as they regarded the others with tired eyes. It was late; Ellowynne had fallen asleep on her father’s lap. She was too large really to sit upon her father like that any longer, but no-one had objected, least of all Anders himself as he rested against Invictus, his arms around his daughter.

Callus glanced around to see if anyone else needed a top up, then set the bottle down on the low table that sat in the middle of the three couches before he took the empty chair next to Garrett, who gave his friend a small smile.

“So what now?” asked Arden quietly. He felt Hal stir against his side, though the redhead said nothing.

Fenris shrugged, he had no good answer for the other mage. His hair was barely brushing his shoulders once it has been washed and trimmed. He was tired, yet couldn’t sleep.

“We wait for the house to be fixed, and then make some decisions. Right now? I want sleep more than anything else. When I am not exhausted, hurt and aching I’ll have answers," Vic said. 

Anders shifted slightly against his side as he freed one of his hands. “Need more healing, love?” he asked, his exhaustion audible in his voice.

“Master Anders, if you try and do any more healing you’ll fall over,” chided Pin as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Put that hand back down right now!”

Anders blinked at her, startled, as Marian turned to peer back at him over Pin’s shoulder with a grin.

“I’d do as she says, Ser,” she suggested. “You look about ready to fall over. And I’m sure Enchanter Invictus would rather take a potion than let you hurt yourself, wouldn’t you, Ser?”

“I’m being bullied by my own students,” said Anders in bemusement. “D’you hear this, Vic? Insubordination.”

“Good, you are going to bed love. I’ll get a potion before I join you. Go on, I’ll bring Zevran along too," Vic said before kissing the blond.

Anders stared down at Ellowynne on his lap. “I’m a bit....” His voice trailed off as Dorian got to his feet and moved around the table to lift the sleeping girl from his arms.

“You’re back in your own rooms, Anders,” he said kindly. “You go on - I’ll pop this little madam into her bed back in her own room, alright?” 

Pin and Marian were getting to their feet. “We’ll see she’s settled, Ser,” Marian nodded.

“Oh. Alright,” said Anders, still in the same bemused tone. He rose to his feet and followed Dorian and the girls.

Zevran was lifting his head and blinking sleepily. “I have my rooms next to Anders, yes?” he asked drowsily. 

“You’re going to the same bed as Anders, come on sleepyhead," Vic said as he knelt down and scooped up the smaller elf. 

Zevran made a faint sound of protest. “But... the bed, will it take us all?” he asked, one hand reaching back for Fenris. “ _Carissimi!_ ”

“I’m coming Zev," Fenris said as he followed behind his husband. He stripped off and crawled into bed tiredly. The Antivan had curled up against Anders but reached out a hand to Fenris as the other elf joined them.

Anders watched Invictus tiredly as the other mage moved around the room, stripping off slowly and pausing to down an elfroot potion. He gave Anders a tired smile as he noticed the blond mage watching him; Zevran had already closed his eyes and drifted off between the mage and Fenris.

“Love?” said Anders softly.

“Hmm?” Vic said as he crawled into bed and curled around the other mage. “You doing ok love?”

“I don’t know,” Anders confessed as he rested his head on Invictus’ shoulder. “I’m exhausted. Maybe if I weren’t so tired then I might not be quite so calm. But... Maker. Is it over now? The demon’s dead - do... do you think that’s it now? We’re safe? That - that we can finally have a normal life again?” He bit his lip, feeling tears burning his eyes.

“Maker I hope so, I don’t think I can take anything else happening to us," Vic said quietly as he kissed Anders cheek, nuzzled at the other mage for a while before turning his face towards him to kiss him on the lips. Anders turned towards him willingly, lips parting and making little desperate, needy sounds as Invictus kissed him. He tilted his head slightly, wordlessly inviting Invictus to kiss him deeper with a faint whine in the back of his throat.

The brunet mage cupped his head as he deepened the kiss, wrapping around Anders and reaching under his tunic to feel him. “Love you," he rasped before resuming.

Anders moaned softly into his mouth as he frantically tugged at the laces of his tunic until he could get it open before shifting a hand to the waistband of his pants, unlacing them hurriedly. As Invictus pulled away from Anders’ mouth for breath, the blond mage arched his neck back, baring his throat and then groaning softly as Invictus sank his teeth lightly into his flesh, mouthing down towards his collarbone before biting down a little harder.

“Maker... Vic....” he breathed.

“Let’s go to the other room so we don’t wake them, please I need you," Vic moaned. 

“Yes... yes, please,” whispered Anders. “Maker, fuck, Vic I need you too!”

They slipped from the bed and into the other room, shedding clothes frantically as they went. Anders turned to face Invictus as the other mage closed the bedroom door behind him; he was frantically stripping out of his pants, nearly overbalancing in his hurry to be naked. As Invictus approached him, Anders dropped to his knees and reached for him.

“Please - let me taste your cock,” he begged. “I want you to fuck my mouth first.”

“Easy, easy love," Vic said before he felt hands on his hips pulling him forward. “Eager for me?” he asked right before Anders pulled him closer and took his cock down. “Maker dammit!”

Anders’ eyes were on Invictus’ face as he swallowed the other mage down, his lips slowly stretching as Invictus’ cock swelled until it was hard in Anders’ mouth. He could feel the blond’s tongue working against his flesh as his head bobbed, his nose pressing into the nest of dark curls at the base of Invictus’ thick cock before he drew away slowly, swirling his tongue expertly around the head before he plunged forward, his eyes never leaving Invictus’ gaze even as Vic felt his cock brush the back of Anders’ throat.

“I almost forgot how fucking filthy you can look while sucking cock. What do you need love, tell me," Vic whined as he watched the blond sucking him down over and over.

Anders took one of Invictus’ hands and pressed it against his head, moaning muffled encouragement as Invictus’ fingers curled into his hair then tugged hard; his eyes fluttered half closed with another moan and then he swallowed as Invictus thrust into his throat. 

He felt Invictus shudder as he came close, and he lifted a hand to curl it tight around the base of Invictus’ cock as he pulled away, gasping for breath. He kept up the pressure on Invictus’ cock until he could see the urge to come slowly subsiding.

“Whilst I would dearly love to have you come down my throat, love, what I really need is to be fucked senseless,” he panted.

“Get on that bed then, otherwise I’m going to fuck your mouth and then use rejuvenate to give you what you’re begging for," Vic released the other mage as he kicked off his pants and called up oil to his palm. “On your back, or on your knees, your choice.”

“Maker, I am so heartily tempted to take you up on that,” breathed Anders as he got to his feet and moved to the bed. “In fact I bloody well will,” he added as he stretched out on the bed on his back and let his head drop down over the end of the bed and beckoned Invictus towards him.

“Greedy aren’t you?” Vic said as he approached and yelped when he felt Anders take his cock down to the base again. “Now I’ve got a handful of oil and my dick is in your mou----” his voice dropped into a moan as Anders sucked harder to get him quiet. 

Anders reached back his hands to Invictus’ hips and tugged on them, and after a moment the mage complied, leaning forward to brace himself with the hand not full of slick as he began to thrust into Anders’ mouth, the blond moaning as Invictus’ cock thrust into his throat. He swallowed again, and Invictus shuddered before his strokes began to speed up. Anders had lowered a hand to his own cock and was slowly pumping it, writhing as Invictus fucked his mouth and throat with long, hard thrusts.

“Fuck… fuck, Anders...so close," Vic moaned as he thrust faster, staring down at the blond. “Make me come, please," he begged as he felt Anders sucking him down. He stretched forward to lap at the his lover’s cock as he tried not to scream and wake up their other spouses. He reached around beneath Anders’ hip as beneath him the blond writhed, his moans muffled by Invictus’ cock down his throat; and he slid two slicked fingers into Anders’ entrance.

Anders closed his eyes as he felt himself being opened up by Invictus’ fingers. The other mage’s movements were rough and jerky, Invictus coming very close to his climax; but Anders didn’t care and even welcomed the burn as he hollowed his cheeks and swallowed around Invictus’ cock in his throat. He felt the other mage’s hips jerk faster and moaned encouragement as the fingers in his arse thrust harder, Invictus unconsciously thrusting his hands into Anders at the same speed as he pumped his cock until suddenly he was coming down Anders’ throat without warning even as his fingers plunged deep inside and brushed Anders’ sweet spot.

Invictus forced himself not to fall over onto the other man after coming hard, nearly gagging his husband. He rolled on his back, panting and lying there for a bit until he felt a tingle of magic as Anders touched him. “Gimme two minutes, then I’m nailing you through this bed," he panted.

Anders coughed and swallowed again, his chest still heaving a little, then he rolled over and dragged over a couple of pillows. “The sooner the better,” he gasped. “Because I really want you to fucking ravish me, love. I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll still feel it in the morning.” He folded his arms on the bed and lowered his head as he got up onto his knees and spread his legs. 

“Damn, you’re so fucking tempting," Vic said as he got to his knees behind Anders, slicking himself with the remaining oil. “Can you be quiet so we don’t wake them? Or do you want to yell?” 

Anders grabbed the pillow and sank his teeth into it before nodding to Invictus that he was ready.

“So fucking greedy for my cock, so eager," Vic moaned as he took a few strokes to get fully into his lover, each pass making him whimper as he felt Anders clench against him. “You’re gonna make me come fast doing that.” 

Anders was panting around the pillow, but he deliberately relaxed his body as he felt Invictus setting up a hard, punishing rhythm. He snaked a hand back down towards his own cock then whimpered as Invictus slapped it away.

“No, not until I say so," Vic snarled in his ear before tilting his head and biting him on the shoulder. “So fucking long since I’ve fucked you like this, missed it," he moaned. 

Anders shuddered and cried out, the yell muffled by the pillow, as he felt Invictus’ teeth in his flesh. He lifted his head slightly, panting. “Maker.... missed - missed it too,” he confessed. “Please - please... more,” he begged. 

“Let them hear you, I don’t care," Vic whispered before setting back on his knees to go faster, hard enough that Anders edged forward with each slap of his hips against the other man. He chuckled at the wanton way the blond moved under him, how he begged for harder strokes each time he bounced against the other mage’s ass.

“So damn...tight," he gasped after Anders arched against him, clenching as he pulled out. 

“Vic... please... your hand, please....” Anders eyes were half-closed; he cried out as Invictus thrust hard into him again, one hand fisting into Anders’ hair to make him arch back again. “Maker, please, choke me a little please?” he begged.

Vic didn’t think about it, he wrapped his hand around the blond’s throat and squeezed. “Second it's … too much… tap my hand," he gasped. “Love you...so … much.” 

Anders gasped, then wheezed as he felt Invictus’ strong fingers wrapped around his throat, choking him. He began to feel light-headed, as he felt an inexorable urge building steadily in his groin, pushing him closer towards climax. Then Invictus shifted slightly, using his grip around Anders’ throat to brace himself as he pounded faster into Anders’ body, each thrust now hitting Anders’ sweet spot hard.

Anders was twitching and shuddering even as black spots danced before his eyes, and he came hard, chest burning for air, the blood roaring in his ears. Some part of him was aware he was dangerously close to blacking out but all he could do was ride his climax, his body shuddering as he clenched down hard around Invictus’ cock.

Vic dropped his hand and continued until he felt his own climax taking him over the edge, as he panted, his head dropping between the other man’s shoulders. “You ok?” he managed as he caught his breath. 

Anders had collapsed onto his stomach as Invictus released his grip on his throat then chased his own climax; he lay there, eyes closed, his breathing ragged for several minutes. He coughed, then nodded, not yet able to speak, his heart racing erratically in his chest.

“Good, I think everyone would murder me if I killed you during sex," Vic said tiredly, reaching for the other man’s hand. “Love you Anders, so much," Vic mumbled. 

Anders managed to tighten his fingers in Invictus’ grip. “L-love you too, Vic,” he managed to gasp hoarsely. He lay still, willing his heart to calm down. He really didn’t want to alarm Invictus by asking for his pills, and besides which it felt good to lie there, feeling Invictus’ cock slowly soften inside him, not wanting that moment when the other man would pull out and away from him to come just yet.

Vic rolled away slowly, wincing at the ache starting in his back. He leaned over to kiss Anders slow and easy, reluctant to get up, but he felt sticky in an uncomfortable way. “Damn, is there a basin in here?” he asked as he sat up and finally looked around the room. 

“Don’t know,” Anders wheezed. “May- maybe?” He rolled over onto his back, grimacing slightly as he felt his own spend puddling beneath him. “Hope.... we’re sleeping... with the others....” He rubbed the scar over his chest absently, chest still heaving slightly. The marks of Invictus’ fingers stood out against the pale skin of his throat as he lay there, eyes closed.

“Can you form ice? I’ll melt it and it’ll have to do with a bedsheet if there’s no basin," Vic mumbled. He looked around and didn’t see a basin but he found a bowl for ice at least. He sat it next to the blond and hoped he had enough focus for an ice spell. 

Anders opened his eyes and glanced up at Invictus before turning his head to notice the bowl before shaking his head. “Not.... not yet,” he wheezed. His heart was still racing.

“Do you need your pills?” Vic asked as he took the bowl and formed a small ball of ice. 

“Might... might be an idea,” Anders admitted as he glanced apologetically at Invictus. “Sorry, love.”

“Where are they? Pretty sure I didn’t have them on me when we came to bed," Vic said as he melted the ice and dipped the sheet in to wipe himself off. 

Anders rolled over onto his stomach and away from the rapidly cooling puddle of his own spend, so Invictus could wash him. “Think... think they’re on the table... other room,” he wheezed. He rested his head on the pillow; he was feeling light-headed and his chest was aching.

Invictus didn’t bother with his pants before hurrying in to see Fenris stroking himself fast, other hand over his mouth as he seemed close to coming in his hand. He simply watched as the elf arched his back as he filled his fist and shuddered quietly. He didn’t move until Fenris had turned his head and saw him there.

“Hey love," Vic said as he passed by to get Anders’ pills. “Be back in a bit.” 

He heard Fenris frantically scrambling from the bed as he headed back to find Anders lying much as he’d left him.

Anders opened his eyes as he felt Invictus sit down on the bed again and press the box of pills into his hand. He nodded his thanks and managed to fumble out a couple of the pills, swallowing them down with the glass of water Invictus handed him. Then he lay on his side and sighed, waiting for them to take effect and the tight iron band around his chest to loosen.

“Sorry to worry you, love,” he whispered. “And no, I’m sure it wasn’t what we just did. Should have taken them sooner.” 

Fenris came to the doorway with a sheet around his waist, panting as he took in the scene, and the bruises around Anders neck. “Vic! What did you do to him?” he asked in worry.

Anders managed to lift his head enough to look around at Fenris. “Not his fault,” he sighed as he let his head drop back down. “Just... things catching up to me is all. Not as young as I used to be, and that demon was strong. Just... need to catch my breath and I’ll be fine.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. His throat felt raw after all the abuse it had taken, both inside and out.

Fenris came into the room and tipped the mages’ head to the side, his gaze narrowing at the bruising on his throat. “He choked you," he said quietly in accusation before staring at Invictus. 

“Because I asked him to,” replied Anders, his voice equally quiet, not opening his eyes. “Please don’t start a fight with Vic over this, love. I asked for it. And he stopped before we went too far.”

“You need your pills, that’s not before he went too far," Fenris hissed before straightening up and giving Vic a dirty look. “Try not to kill our husband fucking him, would you?” he said before heading to the door.

Anders opened his eyes and stared after Fenris as the elf stalked away; as Fenris reached the door a small sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. he pressed a hand over his mouth then rolled over to bury his face against the pillow, fighting to keep his breathing steady.

The elf heard the sob and turned around, his gaze softening at the anguish. He came to the bed and tugged Anders to roll over. “It’s ok.” 

“It’s _not_ OK!” Anders gasped, turning his face away as he wiped at his eyes with his hand. “We were having a good time and he made me feel really good, and now you’re fighting over it and Maker, can - can we please, just - just _not_? Yes, I have a weak heart and alright, maybe we pushed things but Maker, I just want to - to _fuck_ sometimes, dammit, and - and now it’s all -” He waved his hand to convey the three of them. “I just want us to stop fighting, and I don’t want to be a reason for that fighting!”

“I’m sorry love, you’re right. I..have to work on my fear over pushing too far. I’m sorry, I’m glad you had a good time with Vic. Don’t let my fright ruin it, I’m sorry.” Fenris leaned in and kissed him gently before doing the same to Invictus. 

Anders stared up at him. “You smell of sex,” he blurted out. “Wait. But Zevran -”

“Zevran _was_ asleep, but now is very much awake,” drawled a voice from the doorway; they all turned to see Zevran leaning against the door frame, regarding them all somewhat flatly. “Fenris was very much _not_ fucking Zevran, which is a pity, because if I must be awakened by the sounds of others having sex, I would rather it were not because they prefer to use their hand yet _again_ instead of using _me_.” He stared hard at Fenris.

“Why are you awake?” was what came out of Fenris’ mouth in a moment of stupidity as he stared at the Antivan. 

“He heard us and maybe you, or-” Vic was cut off by a load moan above them and a breathy call of Meneris, more before Vic realized they were all listening. “Or them, love you damn near jumped off the bed when you came, its no wonder he’s up.” 

Zevran’s eyes didn’t so much as even briefly flicker towards the ceiling, but he gestured towards the sounds from overhead. “You _hear?_ ” he exclaimed loudly. “Is every person in this whole damn fortress merrily _FUCKING_ except Zevran Arainai?” At the shouted word “fucking”, there was a sudden silence from overhead and then a very audible, if slightly muffled, “ _Venhedis!_ ”

Zevran stalked towards them. “It did not occur to you, Fenris, that if Anders and Invictus so needed such relief, that _you_ needed such relief, that even _they_ needed such relief -” he gestured at the ceiling again, “that I also might desire such a thing? Did the last time this happen not teach you? Did I not say then, _carissimi_ , that you should wake me if need be? because I, too, had need!”

“Yes ser," Fenris said as he got behind Invictus as if that would help him hide from the smaller elf’s wrath.

“You’re taller than me, stop that Fen," Vic said in annoyance as he stepped away from the elf trying to hide behind him. “Go fuck him, don’t say you can’t because you jabbed me with your dick.” 

“If I did not love you all I would take myself out to the barracks right now and let _them_ satisfy me,” Zevran said slowly as he shook his head. “Or find myself some whore to warm my bed, eh, if I did not whore myself out first? But I do love you, and so I shall not do these things.” He glanced away, and sighed.

“Zevran?” said Anders softly. 

“I’m sorry, but you were passed out earlier! I didn’t want to get yelled at it if I was rough again. Please stop shouting," Fenris asked as he stood in front of the shorter elf. 

Zevran sighed and shook his head. “ _Carissimi_ , you should have woken me,” he repeated. “The worst that would have happened was that I might have said no.” He glanced to Anders, and gave him a sad smile. “Do not look so worried, my heart,” he said gently as he approached the bed and bent down to run a hand through Anders’ hair. “My anger is gone and was never at you. Perhaps at myself however.” 

He straightened and walked away slowly. “It does not matter,” he said quietly. “Come back to bed when you are done.”

“I’m done now, I’ll be right there," Fenris said slowly, waiting until the other elf was in bed before shutting the door and crawling into bed and pulling a pillow over his head. Zevran lay with his back to Fenris and the door; as he felt Fenris moving in the bed behind him, he turned his face into the pillows and curled up, hugging himself. 

Fenris waited until the other elf was asleep, or so he hoped before sliding out of bed to wash up and put on sleep pants. He climbed into the seat on the window that Zevran used to perch in when they still lived there and stared out at the stars, unable to rest. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when it slowly dawned on him that something wasn’t quite right - and then he realised; Zevran’s breathing was too shallow, a little too fast for a sleeper. The Antivan wasn’t even making a pretense at sleeping; merely lying still in the bed, his face to the wall.

Fenris climbed down and reached out to touch his husband, worried as he tried to get him to turn over. “ _Carissimi_? Do I need to get a healer?” 

“No,” said Zevran softly. “I am not ill.”

“Are you...crying?” Fenris asked as he pulled Zevran over to his back and stared at him. “We got the demon, what’s wrong?” 

“You still do not want me,” said Zevran softly. “You took your pleasure in your own hand instead of waking me, as I had begged you before to do - as you _promised_ you would do. And then you sit in the window rather than lie with me here in this bed. I need no demon to tell me the truth, Fenris. You do not want me anymore.” He pulled away from Fenris and rolled back onto his side.

The taller elf pulled him back over and pulled him into his arms so Zevran would have to look at him. “Zevran Hawke, I swear to Maker you and I are peas in a damn pod. This is my penance for all the years I did this to Vic.” Fenris caught himself before he could be the one yelling. 

“Listen to me dammit, I love you. I love you, I fucking love you more than life itself, never mind the fact I nearly got shocked and met Mythal protecting you. I didn’t wake you because you slept, or were unconscious through a fight with a demon in our bedroom. I went to the the windowsill because I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep knowing I hurt you, again in trying to just take care of my needs and go back to sleep. You idiot, I love you and I want you Zev. Please stop saying I don’t want you!” he begged. 

Zevran had struggled briefly as Fenris dragged him into his arms, and he’d twisted his face away, eyes clenched shut; but as Fenris spoke, his body relaxed slightly, his eyes slowly drifting open as he lay there until finally he turned his head back towards Fenris and looked up at him. He swallowed hard. 

“I do not care how deeply I may sleep, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “Whenever you have such a need, I will always wish you to share it with me. If you love me, then keep your promise to me and always wake me, _please_. You do not know what it did to me to know you would sooner use your hand than my body, even after I have given myself to you over and over. I was angry because I was hurt, but I am most angry at myself for my weakness.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to hurt you again. You saw what I did and Anders yelled at me, I’m sorry. I understand if you hate me for this," Fenris said as he stared at the other elf, afraid for his response. 

“If I were to hate you, then I would only have all the more reason to hate myself,” said Zevran softly. “But I do not think Anders is in any position to shout now. _Carissimi_... do you still desire me? Am I still pleasing in your eyes?” There was a pleading look in his eyes as he stared up at Fenris.

“Yes, I love you and I would ravish you right now if you allow it.” The other elf’s eyes were bright as he looked to his husband. “That day, he ...scared me, and I hated that I’d hurt you worse, I was selfish in wanting you and all I could think about was how I’d harmed you with my want. I’ve been...afraid of giving in when I remember his voice and how you looked damn near dead afterwards. I’m sorry, I keep messing things up. I love you, and yes I want you so much Zevran.” Fenris closed his eyes in shame, sure the other elf would laugh or tell him he was being stupid. 

“ _Carissimi_ ,” Zevran whispered. “Take me.”

Fenris sniffed as he finally looked at his husband, his heart before kissing him slow and easy as he eased him down on the bed. He was gentle but didn’t handle Zevran as if he were fragile. He pulled at the shorter elf’s clothes as he pulled back for air. 

Zevran pulled open his shirt then pushed Fenris back slightly before sitting up to pull it off over his head, then laying back again to shimmy out of his pants before spreading his legs and beckoning to Fenris. “ _Mi amor_ ,” he said huskily. “ _Carissimi_....”

Fenris shucked his pants before climbing on top of the other elf and kissing him again, he let his hands roam over the tattoos he knew as well as his own markings while he pulled at Zevran’s hair, touched him as he took little breaks to breathe between kisses and telling him he was loved. 

Zevran arched up into his touch, groaning softly with each tug at his hair, shivering as Fenris’ lips and teeth grazed down his throat, nipped at his nipples, found the most sensitive points along his long graceful ears as the Antivan shuddered and moaned Fenris’ name hoarsely. His hands smoothed slowly up Fenris’ thighs to rest upon the larger elf’s hips.

“ _Fenrissssss...._ ”

“I’m yours, whatever you need I will give it to you, always," Fenris replied softly, his gaze loving as he tried to touch the other elf everywhere at once. “May I show you that you’re loved and wanted, please?”

“ _Si, mi amor_ ,” panted Zevran. “Please... I am yours, take me, please!”

Fenris slid down and took Zevran’s cock in his mouth, while reaching up for one of his husband’s hands to hold it. He bobbed up and down quickly, not touching himself but trying to get the Antivan to take hold of his hair and guide him. He felt Zevran’s graceful fingers thread themselves into what was left of his hair and then a low groan of frustration as the fingers left Fenris’ head. Then he felt Zevran shiver briefly beneath him as the Antivan gave a gasp; glancing up, he saw that Zevran was pinching and rolling one of his own nipples between those strong, slender fingers, before moving to the other nipple. “ _Madre..._ Fenris, need you inside me, your fingers... _please_....” 

He reluctantly pulled off with a lewd noise before going to his pack and getting oil. Fenris slicked two fingers before reaching under the slighter elf and sliding them in before resuming sucking his husband’s cock. He kept going, even adding a third finger so he could ready him. 

Zevran cried out as Fenris twisted his fingers deep inside him and grazed his sensitive spot, arching his back up off the bed even as Fenris swallowed him down.

“Ah... _ah..._ oh, yes, yes _mi amor_ , yes!” he cried.

Fenris pulled off and grinned at him while he kept fingering the other elf. “Want me to fuck you?” he asked hoarsely. 

Zevran shuddered as Fenris twisted his fingers deep inside again just _so_ and then keened, back arching up again as he twisted his own fingers into the covers to anchor himself, shivering as Fenris did it again and again until Zevran was a hot, sweaty, writhing mess and coming apart beneath him. “Yes, yes, please!” he begged.

Fenris chuckled as he lifted himself up, still working his fingers inside the other elf whilst he anointed his cock with oil. As he pulled his fingers slowly free, Zevran groaned softly, relaxing back down onto the bed.

Fenris shifted forwards as he hooked his arms beneath Zevran’s thighs, then he lifted the Antivan’s legs up to rest his ankles on his shoulders as he lined his cock up with Zevran’s entrance. Then he leaned forward, putting his weight behind him as he pushed steadily into Zevran, barely giving the Antivan a chance to adjust to his girth. He could hear Zevran’s breath shift to light, shallow pants as the smaller elf bore down inside. Then Fenris’ balls were pressed snug against the curve of Zevran’s arse as he sheathed himself fully deep inside the Antivan elf.

He held still and stared down into Zevran’s eyes as the other elf drew slow, deliberate breaths.

“Still alright?” he asked gently; Zevran huffed a stray lock of flaxen hair out of his eyes with a breathless laugh then nodded.

“I am fine, _carissimi_ ,” he nodded. “Though I will not be fine soon if you do not start to move, eh?”

Fenris grinned and rolled his hips slowly, enjoying the way Zevran’s expression shifted and the Antivan groaned.

“Like that, you mean?” he smiled, and was rewarded by a low curse. He chuckled, drawing back slightly as Zevran continued to curse him, and then slammed his cock hard back into Zevran, silencing his curses as Zevran cried out.

He took pity on the Antivan and began to move, setting up a slow, steady pace he could keep up for a while. Zevran moaned and bit his lip, letting his head drop back as his eyes fluttered closed. Fenris watched, almost entranced as the blond elf slowly came apart, impaled on his cock. he began to pick up the pace and Zevran gasped encouragement, little _yeses_ and _please_ and _more_ , always _more_ until the slapping of flesh on flesh was almost loud enough to drown out his entreaties.

Fenris shifted, leaning further forward until Zevran was almost bent double so he could thrust harder, changing up the angle as he tried to find that sweet spot inside once more that had had Zevran shuddering and gasping so beautifully before. His own breath was coming faster now in pants as a sense of urgency began to coil inside him, his movements speeding up until finally - _there_ , he had it, and _there_ again, and again, and again as Zevran cried out and shook beneath him, one hand fisting into his own hair as he threw his head back and cried out with every thrust and now Fenris was pounding into him hard, fast, his movements becoming jerky as he felt his climax rising up yet still he sought to bring Zevran to the edge first until finally, finally, _finally_ the Antivan cried out and shuddered, clenching down on Fenris inside as the warrior finally let go and pounded harder and faster into Zevran before finally following him over that edge and spending himself deep inside the Antivan’s shaking, exhausted body.

He let Zevran’s legs slip from his shoulders and he carefully lowered them to the bed, shaking and weak, before leaning forward over Zevran. Sweat was rolling down his face, dripping off his forehead, his nose, his chin onto the man sprawled beneath him to mingle in the mess of Zevran’s own spend that puddled upon his tawny skin, smeared between them. Zevran’s eyes were closed, his chest heaving as he panted, the only sound in the room that of their gasps. He opened his eyes briefly as he felt Fenris pull slowly out of him and turned his head to watch as Fenris staggered over on ungainly legs to the washbasin.

He washed off quickly before wetting another flannel and bringing it along with water to his husband who seemed to be half asleep already. Fenris padded over and washed Zevran gently, sure to touch the other elf as he cleaned him up. He pitched the cloths across the room and pulled Zevran to his arms. “Believe me now _carissimi_?” he laughed.

Zevran nodded, still a little breathless. “Much better now, _mi amor_ ,” he said quietly. “I had much need of that.” He pressed himself closer against Fenris and shivered slightly. 

“Glad I could help," Fenris said as he stretched out and let Zevran lie on top of him. He reached up to massage the other elf’s scalp as he drifted towards sleep, exhausted finally. 

***

The sun was warm upon his face as he slowly drifted awake to the sound of low voices nearby.

“No, don’t wake him!” Anders’ voice, low, trying not to laugh. “They look so peaceful together - and Maker knows, Zevran likely still needs the rest.”

Fenris could feel Zevran still lying atop him, the Antivan relaxed and limp, his breathing slow in sleep.

“Anders, they can’t sleep all morning - we’re supposed to be meeting with Meneris and the others upstairs in fifteen minutes for breakfast!” Invictus’ voice, slightly exasperated.

“I know, but - Zevran looks so sweet like that,” protested Anders quietly. “And Fenris too!” 

“Sweet is not a word I’d ever use to describe them. Fine let them rest, better than them waking up to us gawking at them like this," Vic said quietly as he slipped away from the bed.

Fenris didn’t sit up but he did whip a pillow towards where he thought his husband had moved. “Too late, and none of you can be quiet to save your lives," he muttered.

Anders gave a muffled yell, and then there was a thud. Zevran lifted his head and glanced over at where the blond mage was sitting on the floor with a surprised look, hair messed from having caught the pillow full in the face whilst just beyond him, Invictus was looking at Fenris in surprise.

“You have managed to hit Anders, _carissimi_ ,” he observed, before lowering his head back onto Fenris’ chest.

“Ow,” said Anders, his voice sounding somewhat nasally. “Was that really called for?” There was a pause. “Vic, is my nose bleeding?”

“I didn’t throw it that hard," Fenris said as he pulled another pillow and tucked it under his head. 

“No you’re not bleeding, its a feather pillow, he’d have to really put an effort to make you bleed. Come on, get up love," Vic said as he helped his mage husband off the floor.

“Sorry, meant to hit Vicky with it," Fenris mumbled. 

“I’ll freeze your ass to the bed if you do that again, Fen-Fen," Invictus said as he walked Anders towards the stairs.

“You were obviously never caught in the middle of a pillow fight in the Tower with everyone using your nose for a target,” muttered Anders peevishly, gingerly feeling the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. “I swear my nose was a target for _everyone_ back then, didn’t realise it still was....”

Zevran sat up with a small chuckle. “Ah, my poor heart,” he sighed. “They made much fun of his nose in the Wardens too, though not usually with pillows it is true.” He shrugged.

“Didn’t get to have pillow fights growing up in Tevinter," Fenris said as he rolled over and hugged the pillows, utterly unwilling to move from bed. 

“You did not? A shame, they were much the best part of being a whorehouse brat,” mused Zevran, his voice far too calm as he reached slowly for another pillow.

Anders glanced over his shoulder as he heard Zevran’s voice. His eyes widened in alarm. “No, no, nonono Zev -!”

He was too late as the Antivan suddenly thwapped Fenris across the back of the head with the pillow then rolled away across the bed before turning to face the larger elf.

Fenris had yelped in surprise and also pain as he scrambled to catch his husband. He rubbed the back of his head as he snarled at the slighter elf. He was muttering aspersions against the Arainai house back to the Black City as he considered how to pay him back. “Son of a whore that fucking hurt," he hissed.

“But of course, you already kn-” Zevran’s words were cut off short as Anders suddenly walloped him across the back of the head with the pillow Fenris had felled him with, and the blond mage was giggling wildly.

“Got him! After fifteen years I finally got him! _Now_ who’s the target, Zevran cocky bloody Arain-” He got no further as the Antivan suddenly lurched up and caught him back with the pillow still clutched in his hand, and then the two men were suddenly at each other in a flurry of blows and a cloud of feathers, both laughing in between blows.

“They have both lost their damn minds, I’m taking a bath then going back to sleep if this place isn’t covered in feathers," Fenris mumbled as he rubbed the back of his head, watching two of his spouses act like teenaged boys, though it did his heart good to hear them both in such high spirits.

Invictus watched them with a wistful sigh, missing Carver and Bethany as he watched them both slapping each other with pillows, making feathers fly around the bed. He was going to ignore them, before another pillow whipped across the room and smacked him. “Who did that?! I’m going to get both of you!” he yelled before joining in the fray.

Fenris watched, one eyebrow arched as all three men slapped away at each other with pillows. He could see clearly how it was going as he slipped from the bed and moved away; Invictus was the largest and the strongest, Zevran the smallest and fastest. It was inevitable that eventually it was Anders who was pinned on his back by the Antivan sitting on his chest, laughingly calling out for mercy and surrendering as Invictus loomed over him with a pillow in each hand.

No sooner had Invictus laid down the pillows then the door to Ellowynne’s room was thrown open and Wynne, Pin and Marian dashed into the room. They made beelines for the scattered pillows even as Fenris hastily grabbed for a bedsheet and wrapped it around himself with a look of alarm.

Very shortly it was Zevran and Invictus laughingly surrendering. Zevran flopped onto his back on the floor as Ellowynne perched on his chest and she triumphantly hit him in the face with her pillow; he “died” dramatically and pretended to be dead as she giggled.

“Alright, Imp, off your uncle Zevran,” panted Anders, still laughing. “Go and clean up and get ready for breakfast, alright?” He looked round at the others and chuckled breathlessly. “Maker, I haven’t laughed like that in so long. I think I’ve got a stitch.” He glanced down at Zevran who still sprawled on the floor as the kids ran off laughing. “Alright down there, love?”

“No, I am dead,” replied Zevran, not opening his eyes. “See? Your daughter has most cruelly slain me. I have died, and you must go on without me. Alas, poor Zevran Arainai, slain at last by the hand of a child.”

Anders dropped down to sit beside Zevran on the floor, chuckling breathlessly. “You’re not dead, Zevran,” he grinned.

“No, no, I am quite dead I can assure you,” replied Zevran, still not opening his eyes.

Anders sighed, gave Invictus and Fenris a grin, then leaned over to kiss Zevran slowly and deeply before finally pulling away to breathe, staring down at Zevran with a fond smile.

“Still dead?” he asked him softly.

“I believe a miracle has occurred,” murmured Zevran quietly. “You have raised me from the dead, my heart!” He smiled up at Anders.

“Hmm, quite sure of that?” asked the blond mage.

“You are right - perhaps you should do it again, just to be quite sure I am breathing,” replied Zevran as he lifted a hand to thread his fingers into Anders’ hair as the blond mage’s head dipped for another kiss.

Fenris leaned against the door and watched them with a sly smile, pleased at seeing the other elf in such good spirits.

Invictus knelt down by them, bemused at how the morning had turned. “I think I need to confirm that our love is indeed returned to us by a miracle too.” Vic leaned down and kissed the Antivan elf slow and deep until he needed to draw breath. “Yes, still very much alive.”

“Hmm, I’m not entirely sure,” said Anders slowly, and then stilled.

“I think Fenris needs to make sure he’s with us still," Vic said with a wink to the tall elf. “Come on love.”

The warrior grabbed a sheet so he could be somewhat decent if the kids ran back in before settling on the opposite side of his Antivan husband and kissed him slow, taking his time to savor each press of his lips and tongue against the blond. He finally pulled away with a smile. “Alive, definitely alive.”

“One part of him most certainly is,” said Anders as he felt Zevran’s erection pressing firmly against his arse.

“Take him for a ride, then maybe I’ll test how lively he is by fucking him senseless again.” Fenris leered at the elf as he watched him staring up at Anders with a wicked smile.

“I might at that,” breathed Anders as he called up a swift grease spell. He leaned back to slick Zevran’s cock as the Antivan groaned appreciatively, before he lifted himself and then sank down onto it in one swift move before any of them could stop him.

“Anders!” exclaimed Zevran in surprise as he stared up at the blond mage who was taking a slow, shuddering breath.

“I’ll lock the door, after I tell them we’ll be late to the meeting," Fenris said with a bit of envy in his voice. He leaned over to kiss Anders roughly and nip at his ears. “Be good until I get back.”

Anders groaned at the touch of Fenris’ teeth. He drew another slow breath then lifted himself slightly before sinking back down onto Zevran’s cock. The Antivan watched his face intently before he began to thrust slowly up into Anders, who moaned as he rode the Antivan.

“I’d feel better if you’d used some oil or stretched love," Vic said as he watched Anders speed up as he rode their husband, tiny moans escaping with each rise and fall. 

Fenris threw on pants and ran up to Dorian and Meneris’ rooms, knocking until he heard Dorian beckoning him in. “Sorry, we um...we were up late and Anders is a little busy so we’re going to be late.”

Meneris was at his desk shuffling things around as he listened, he looked up at the other elf taking in how good he looked before he remembered he was annoyed by how loud he and Zevran had been, sort of. It had meant another round with Dorian so he wasn’t truly annoyed. He was interested in the other warrior though. As he opened his mouth to reply he heard a sudden cry from beneath them, echoing up from the floor below, followed by another, then a third that was cut off suddenly.

“Is that why you all will be late? Or because you and Zevran damn near shouted down the lower level last night with your own fun? I don’t like being kept waiting Fenris, you know this," Meneris said as he leaned back to stare down his friend. “What should we do with you?”

“I believe it was someone yelling for more of your cock that woke him, friend," Fenris quipped. 

The yell that suddenly burst out from beneath them with a flood of Antivan was undeniably the elf Fenris had just referred to; he had the satisfaction of seeing Dorian turn red before the magister turned hastily away.

“Don’t be shy now, _amicus_ ” Fenris said slyly.

“Don’t be an ass, _amicus_ ,” Meneris snapped before beckoning the other elf towards him. “I think you need a lesson in respecting others time, don’t you think so love?” he asked Dorian sweetly.

“I, I, er, well... maybe?” stammered Dorian as he turned back towards them. He was half-distracted by the sounds drifting up from downstairs; he was certain he’d just heard a muffled scream - possibly one that might come from someone with a hand clasped very firmly over their mouth. He frowned slightly. “However, might I suggest _amicus_ that you remind your husbands that we _are_ due to have breakfast with the children, and perhaps further continuance of last night’s activities perhaps should be put off for a while? Perhaps until they’re all safely over at the College?”

“Fine, if you insist.” Fenris pouted just a bit as he headed down to do just that, in time to see Zevran pulling back from Anders and Invictus to lie on the stone floor.

“Much fun as you’re having, we should get together and go up for breakfast as expected," Fenris said as he walked by them for the bath.

“This is a more fun start to the day!” Vic complained as he got to his feet and reached down to help Anders up, the blond mage lifting himself up off the Antivan before straightening his robes with a shamefaced grin.

Zevran lay still for a moment longer, then lifted a hand to wave Anders back. “I think perhaps doing this on the hard stone floor was not so fun,” he winced.

“Maker, Zev, let us get you up off the floor!” exclaimed Anders as he and Invictus bent over to carefully pull the elf back up to his feet. Anders guided him back over to the bed.

“Vic, my bag on the table - there’s a special ointment in a green jar - would you fetch it for me please?” he asked as he pushed Zevran down to lie on his stomach before he started to apply healing to the small of Zevran’s back. He glanced up as Marian stuck her head around the door.

“Ah, Marian! Be a dear and go fetch Callus would you? Tell him Zevran is rather stiff this morning and would he please come assist him in dressing?” he asked her.

“Of course, Master Anders!” she replied, startled. “Oh, Hal and Master Arden are awake. Will they be joining us?”

Anders nodded. “They will. And, Marian?”

“Ser?” she replied, startled, just as she was about to withdraw.

“No-one is to know Arden is here - at least, not for now, am I clear?”

“Absolutely, Ser,” she nodded, and then was gone.

“I’ll hurry Fenris out of the bath, so we can get cleaned up," Vic said before he gave his husbands a kiss and headed in to get their elf moving along. 

It took nearly an hour all told to get all of them washed, dressed and the teens and Ellowynne herded upstairs to Meneris and Dorian’s rooms, by which time the staff had had time to prepare and lay out a large buffet breakfast suitable for a large group to dine from. 

They found themselves gathered in much the same way as they had the previous evening, save that this time Ellowynne sat on a large cushion on the floor with Pin and Marian. They devoted their energies and attention to food, and it was only when they were sitting back, replete, with mugs of tea or coffee that Arden repeated the question he had asked the previous evening.

“So, what now?” He glanced to Invictus. “I presume the repairs to your house will take a couple of days at least. Do we even know what drew the demon in the first place?”

“Not a clue, I can’t even think when it would have found or us or come to any of us. I’m just curious as to why it latched on to Zevran, he’s not a mage and there’s nothing he could do for a demon," Vic replied.

“I don’t know, I just hope whatever madness that had gotten into us is gone with that demon having been destroyed. I would kill for a few days where nothing goes wrong," Fenris said tiredly. 

“You’re not the only one,” sighed Anders.

Dorian rose to his feet and began pacing slowly. “Not all demons necessarily seek mages to deal with or entice. Many of the lesser demons are pretty much just beasts of instinct, really; they have certain hungers, and certain emotions will feed them. They’ll gather around dreamers to feed as much as they might a mage. And I suppose if the emotions were powerful enough then they might attract one of the more powerful demons even without the attraction of a mage.” He glanced at Zevran. “I should imagine that with your reduced mobility, you were feeling a remarkable amount of despair, my friend,” he said gently, his eyes sympathetic.

Zevran’s eyes were upon the floor. “I was not dealing with it well, it is true,” he admitted reluctantly. “When one’s livelihood and continued existence has always depended on the abilities of one’s body and one’s physical health, it is hard to resign oneself to the loss of them, eh?” He tried to smile, out of habit, but the smile was mirthless and fell from his lips as swiftly as it had come as he turned his face away.

Fenris reached over and took his hand. “You still handled it with more grace than I would have in your place my love. I doubt I would have had the will to live in your place, or worse. Do not beat yourself up again, please?” 

“I’d have Dorian raise you so I could yell at you, but let’s not go down that road either? Anders, Pin and the others have a plan to help and you’re already looking better after the one session along with the demon being killed. We’re here for you Zevran," Vic said.

The Antivan kept his eyes on the floor but after a moment, he slowly nodded as he laced his fingers with Fenris then lifted the warrior’s hand to his lips to kiss it. “So,” he exhaled slowly. “This demon followed me somehow and... what? It was... _dining_ upon me?” He looked up at Dorian. “Is that why I felt so weak and cold?”

“It would have been, yes,” nodded Dorian as he resumed pacing. “Of course, your condition meant the others worried for you, and that in turn would lead to more despair amongst them and all the more to feast upon. I have no doubt it found all of you tasty in turn, I’m afraid. Dumat, I may even have felt its touch upon me also.”

“It was feeding upon me,” nodded Arden. “I was aware of it... could feel it... but I couldn’t do anything about it to drive it off, though each time Anders healed me I became stronger. The healing itself was so painful however that I couldn’t do anything after each session but sleep. It wasn’t until that second night that I’d recovered enough the demon didn’t dare come near me - which is when it went for Hal instead.” His arms tightened around the redhead, who had remained silent ever since being aroused the previous evening; Hal turned and rested his head against Arden’s chest, closing his eyes.

“It was when I awoke and found it had attacked Hal that I finally found enough strength to throw its influence off me and strike back,” went on Arden. “Which was just when you three came in.” He glanced to Anders, Marian and Invictus.

“I’m surprised all the casting didn’t wake me sooner," Fenris said quietly with a glance to the mages in the room. “I’m just glad its gone, and maybe I can stop being so much work thanks to it likely having a bit of fun with my own despair the last few months.” 

Invictus came around and hugged Fenris at the elf’s words, he was worried the demon had been feeding off him as well. “Love you," he whispered before giving the warrior another squeeze and returning to his seat.

“What we have no way of knowing, Arden,” said Anders as he glanced at the other blond mage, “is whether the demon followed you first or Zevran. I’m inclined to think perhaps it followed _one_ of you out of the Fade when you all returned after confronting Solas. Maker, given the state you were all in, from what you’ve all told me, it may simply have fixated on the whole group - you’d lost your arm, Meneris, Zevran apparently had somehow contracted the Blight and was in shock over the revelation that Solas was Fen’Harel and that the other me is now somehow Mythal, and you were all in grief over my dying and - Maker, that was all such a horrible mess and I _still_ don’t know the whole story, but there must have been enough grief and despair to feed a demon for months!”

Dorian nodded. “Certainly it would have found plenty to keep it fed in Orlais, but evidently it did not _stay_ in Orlais. Who, then, did it follow?”

Arden’s gaze had fallen to the floor. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But it was undoubtedly present in the house when things went so badly wrong between us all.”

“I do not know if your actions were from your own inner demons or from this one,” said Zevran softly. “But this demon found much to feast upon in consequence.”

“Well its gone now, can we stop talking about it?” Fenris asked plaintively. He was tired and really could have used more sleep before being woken up by his family. 

“Do you need a nap, you sound cranky love," Vic asked.

“I’m not a child Vic, I’ll be fine with more coffee," Fenris shot back with a smirk, glad he was being teased rather than them fighting.

“How have you felt since we destroyed the demon, Arden?” asked Anders.

“Like... like there’s colour in the world again,” said Arden slowly. “Like a cloud has lifted. Like I can taste food again. I slept last night and... and I actually remember dreaming. It’s like I suddenly woke up from a long illness or a nightmare I couldn’t shake until now.”

Anders glanced to Zevran. “And you, love? How do you feel this morning?”

Zevran gave a small sigh and reached for Fenris’ hand again. “As though I can see light ahead,” he said softly.

“Glad to hear it," Fenris said with a squeeze to the other elf’s hand. 

Ellowynne was staring at Arden steadily. “Dad, does that mean that it was a demon that made Arden attack Uncle Zevran?”

Anders glanced at Ellowynne, then up at Arden, who was suddenly acutely aware that he was being stared at by everyone.

“We _did_ think at the time it was rather out of character,” Anders said slowly. “And Arden seemed rather horrified when he realised what he’d nearly done to Uncle Zevran.”

“No,” said Arden firmly. “No, I am not going to do this. Anders, it was my hand that lashed out at Zevran, not some demon. Maybe it influenced my mind and maybe it didn’t - but it was _my_ hand that did it and I’m not going to deny that or try to hide behind some weak excuse.”

Fenris looked up at them, wishing they’d drop it already. “Can we please not argue? The day started off well and I really just want to go forward.” 

“True, assigning blame now won’t change anything. So what do we do once the house is fixed," Vic asked.

Anders glanced over at Hal and Arden. “Good question,” he replied. “Hal?”

The redhead turned his head slightly to stare back at him.

“Hal, what do -”

“I think I want to go back to our room,” said the redhead softly. “I think I want to sleep. I don’t want to think about what comes next.”

Arden lifted a hand to stroke his hair gently. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “Close your eyes and sleep.”

Dorian had ceased pacing to watch the exchange; he now looked to Invictus and Anders. “So... Arden seems... more or less back to normal? Which means... what? Will he be taking up his place as Grand Enchanter again?”

Arden shook his head. “No. Fiona’s taken over, and may she have much joy of it.”

“But then... Hal, and you....” went on Dorian slowly.

“We’ll not be staying with Vic and the others, if that’s what you’re asking,” replied Arden. “They’ve offered us a patch of land where we can build a house. Somewhere where they don’t have to lay eyes on me, but close enough that Hal can be near Fenris and spend time with him. I’ve given my word I’ll keep out of their way.” He glanced to Fenris. “I intend to keep my word.”

“Don’t look at me, its Zevran you hurt the worst in all this," Fenris remarked as he looked to the Antivan. 

“It will take time to have something built so for the time being Arden will remain in the house, and perhaps now that he’s more himself it can peaceful instead of him floating around like a damned ghost," Vic said.

Arden blinked, looking puzzled; Anders shook his head at him.

“You... weren’t exactly yourself,” he explained quietly.

Zevran pulled away from Invictus and Fenris and moved away to pace. Although he was moving more easily than he had in weeks, still he had a pronounced limp as he paced slowly.

“I do not know what to think,” he admitted. “I know Fenris prefers we put this all behind us and move on but I find that is not so easy. Since learning of this despair demon and how it has used us all - having felt myself how it clouded my thinking and made all seem hopeless, I think I can see a little more clearly now just how a demon’s influence can affect a man.”

“And Arden has fallen under a despair demon’s influence before,” said Anders heavily. He glanced to Invictus. “Remember when I dragged you, Fenris and Merrill through into their world, love, because Hal was dying and I felt I needed to do something to help, to give us all a fighting chance of destroying the Eluvians? Remember how their Fenris turned suddenly on him and he just checked out completely - they’d all been at each other’s throats because several demons had come through into their Kirkwall and a despair demon had been feeding on him?”

Hal had opened his eyes and was now looking at Anders.

“Yes... you came for me,” he said softly. “I remember. And Arden had -” He turned to look at Arden then fell silent; Arden had gone still, swallowing hard against sudden unbidden memories.

“Yes, I remember though I’d honestly rather forget that whole year happened. So do we let Arden stay as he recovers, provided we _all_ agree to it? Does he deserve another chance seeing as how he wasn’t himself, fully?” Invictus said, holding a hand up to stop the argument from Arden.

“I’ve done so much wrong in my life, yet you all give me chances. I was possessed by Danarius or the demon he became and yet, you all still let me be in your lives when I did far more harm than Arden did. It was me, under his control who nearly killed Anders, hurt Pin and caused Zevran harm and I am forgiven. Can we not give Arden a chance as well?”

Arden had dropped his gaze to the floor at his feet again, swallowing hard. Anders’ words had brought back a lot of memories of that particular day in his own Thedas, as well as an almost overwhelming surge of grief for his own Fenris - who had been so angry, so furious with him then, but he would have given anything to hear his voice one more time. He could feel tears stinging his eyes as he remembered holding Fenris as the elf took his final last breaths and then went still.

Only dimly did he realise Zevran had halted in front of him and was speaking.

“I forgave you, Invictus; in fact was I not the first of us to look you in the eyes afterwards? When all had left, I stayed; and when you could not bear the thought of looking any of us in the eyes again, it was I who looked _you_ in the eyes,” said the Antivan. 

He leaned forward and cupped Arden’s chin firmly with his hand and then forced the blond mage to lift his head, tilting his head back until he was staring up at Zevran. The former Crow held his gaze steadily.

“Arden Hawke. You crippled me, but I walk. And I forgive you.”

Arden’s tear-filled eyes widened and he tried to speak, but no words came, even as Zevran smiled gently.

“You are lost in the past, Arden, I think,” he said very quietly. “For who do you mourn? Not me, I think, hmm? Something Anders said... something that happened that day, and now you mourn... who?”

“You forgive him, just like that?” Fenris asked in surprise.

The voice, so familiar, was too much. Arden crumpled as Zevran stared down at him, still forcing him to look up; he closed his eyes and wept, shuddering, making no effort to pull away. After a moment, Zevran let him go and he seemed to collapse in upon himself, sobbing quietly.

“What did I say?” Fenris said as he watched Arden fall to pieces.

“I think its you, hearing your voice did that. Not you, the other you," Vic said quietly.

“Forgiveness can be a hard thing to accept,” said Zevran as he turned away from the weeping man. “Particularly when there are some things one cannot forgive oneself for.”

“I think I should go if hearing me is doing this to him. I’ll...see you all for lunch or something," Fenris said as he rose to go.

Hal was looking from Arden, to Fenris, and back again, worried.

“No... no, don’t... please don’t go,” gasped Arden, dragging himself back together with an effort. “It’s... it’s alright, I’m just... just old memories, and I’m not quite fully myself I think.” He rubbed at his eyes, not looking up. “I... stay, it’s I who should go.” He lurched to his feet. “Meneris, please... excuse me....”

“Neither of you leave, just take a moment to calm yourselves," Meneris said to both men before they could flee. 

“I’d rather go than sit here if you’re all going to continue to talk of demons and such. Can’t we drop it?” Fenris pleaded.

“ _Amicus_ , would that I could oblige you, but I can’t,” replied Dorian. “From what Anders just said, it seems Arden is particularly vulnerable to despair demons, and given how frequently we all make use of this Fade portal spell to teleport hither and yon it occurs to me that there’s a very real danger that some demonic entity might tag through on one of those trips. We need to make absolutely certain that nothing lingers around any of us, and then I think we must insist on a moratorium on all such little leaps until we have quite established that it is impossible for a demon to ride through on anyone’s coattails.” He glanced to Anders and Invictus. “Now, from what you say, it seems demons have been able to follow you through the Fade and through Eluvians into Arden’s Kirkwall and vice versa - am I correct?”

“That’s pretty much the shape of it, yes,” nodded Anders. “I mean, this is only what we were able to work out in theory - but it seemed to fit what had happened.” He glanced to Invictus.

Fenris scowled at his friend, muttering under his breath about not using a portal to just go downstairs. Since they wouldn’t let him leave, he went out to the balcony to gather his thoughts. 

From the room behind him he heard Hal finally speaking up. “Portals and rifts are closely related - demons are attracted to them, and maybe if they get too close they get dragged through. Or maybe they’re simply a weaker spot they can push into. The Eluvians are slightly different - they seem to be places where the Fade just bleeds through. The longer an Eluvian is in one place, the thinner the Veil becomes there, and the easier it is for someone to pass through without needing magic - or for something to follow after.”

“How the deuce do you know that?” asked Dorian, sounding impressed.

“Let’s just say I’ve probably been through more Eluvians than anyone in this room right now... including from the other side.” Hal’s laugh was forced and uneasy.

Invictus glanced out at the balcony, at how Fenris remained standing stiffly as he peered over the mountains. He eventually went out to check on his husband. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, done going on about demons in there?” Fenris asked.

“No, I’m worried though love since you’ve talked about feeling trapped at times. Do you want to go? Maybe spread your wings a bit?” Vic asked as he wrapped his arms around the elf.

“I don’t want to hear anything from them if I just up and go. I just wanted to go downstairs and take a nap but I’ll wait out here until you are done. I hope it's soon," the elf said as he turned to kiss Vic on the cheek. 

“So, what you’re saying is, each Eluvian could be acting as, what, an open invitation to demons to casually step through? And that when we cast our portal spells, a demon could just as casually follow on behind?” asked Garrett. “Then... should we be stopping using them?”

“That would seem to be pertinent until we establish some form of safety protocols,” agreed Dorian. “I’d best have words with the Senior Enchanters - and we should send messages to the Wardens so their mages know to be aware. I don’t think anyone else knows it yet, save Maevaris.”

“The main worry I have now,” said Arden quietly, “is whether any other demons have come through. And how do I stop myself being so easily influenced? I refuse to become a danger to Hal or any of the rest of you again. This time it was a despair demon - if it had been a rage demon, then Zevran would have died for certain, and Maker knows how many more!” 

Vic returned his kiss and took Fenris’ hand to pull him back. “Love you should be part of this conversation, since you can teleport freely and there’s a chance you could bring something back no matter how briefly you step through the Fade.” 

“I don’t want to talk about demons any more Invictus!” Fenris said as he pulled away and went back to staring over the mountains. 

“... a feeling of cold,” Anders was saying in the room behind them. “Like something had been pulled out of my heart and leaving just this cold chill behind.”

“Yes - that was how it felt for me as well,” agreed Arden.

“You were cold last night,” said Hal quietly. “Even in your sleep you were talking about your heart feeling like ice.”

“Your skin felt cold, too, Zevran,” pointed out Anders. “Even Fenris remarked upon it.”

“But that’s when it leaves,” argued Arden. “How would I know if one had hold of me again? Excessive anger? Maker - if a Desire demon had me... no, no I never want to -”

“It’s alright,” said Hal gently. “I know you’d never hurt me. We’ll find a way to keep you safe. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Do what?” asked Garrett, and then after a pause, “ohhhh.... Oh. Callus? Cal, are you -”

Fenris and Invictus found themselves suddenly distracted as Callus burst out onto the balcony and threw up noisily over the rail.

“Cal?” Fenris asked as he approached his son. “What happened in there?” 

“I’ll get him some tea and mint," Vic said as he headed inside. He found Ellowynne already on her feet and following Callus; she came out onto the balcony.

“Uncle Fenris, I think they’re talking about the sort of stuff my Dad would be very unhappy knowing I know anything about,” she confided quietly. “And I think perhaps Callus has heard all the mage talk he can really handle. I think perhaps Callus should take me downstairs to the kitchens for a snack and to get himself some mint tea, don’t you?”

“Um sure, I guess," Fenris said with a wary glance at her before kneeling next to his son. “Do you want to do that? Take Ellowynne downstairs and have some time to collect yourself?” 

Callus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded, shakily. “Yeah... yeah, c’mon, Imp,” the youth managed as he straightened and stood up. “Mint tea sounds good.” 

She smiled up at him and took his hand and he led her back inside. Anders glanced up as they headed towards the stairs.

“Kitchen, tea, snacks,” said Callus tersely, and Anders nodded with a grateful look.

“Thank you, Callus,” he replied. “Take your time?”

“Sure,” nodded the elven youth as he and Ellowynne headed down to the lower levels.

Fenris watched them go before coming back inside. “Now, will you stop talking about demons?” he asked tersely. 

Dorian frowned as he stared at Fenris. “ _Amicus_ , none of us _like_ the subject, but it’s a necessary one,” he replied. “Arden does raise a very valid point - he appears to be particularly susceptible to the influences of certain demons, and we also still have no way of knowing if anything more than that despair demon came through. I’m sure none of us would wish to take the chance that something else might be lurking around.” He arched one eyebrow. “Dumat knows, the way you lot were carrying on last night I would almost think a desire demon _had_ popped through, except it would be in very poor taste of me to joke about such a thing in these circumstances.”

Anders and Zevran both shot each other a startled look and then Anders suddenly blushed.

Fenris glared at his friend for a moment and gave him a dirty look. “Dorian, I’ve been used by a desire demon and I can tell you last night had nothing to do with that.” he glanced at Zevran and shrugged nonchalantly then noticed the slightly horrified expressions on the others faces. 

“What, did you all forget that I was property for a good part of my life? I couldn’t say no when he summoned up a demon at a party and threw me at it.” he skirted around them and poured himself a drink. 

“No, we didn’t forget, love,” said Anders quietly. “But I think you’re forgetting just how I came to share a bed with you and Invictus in the first place.” He glanced to Invictus, then back to Fenris. “And how long it took you to realise what you’d done to me under the influence of a desire demon... and that in spite of your past experiences with desire demons, love.”

Zevran turned his head to stare sharply at Anders. “That is not a story you have told me in full, my heart,” he said very quietly.

“And he won’t either," Fenris said quickly before downing his drink, hoping the flush he felt was from the drink and not remembering that night. “As for that night, whatever experiences I’ve had with a desire demon are not for further discussion. If you all won’t drop this after making Callus ill and agitating me, I’m going downstairs.” he set his glass down and headed for the door. “By foot _amicus_ , not by portal.” 

Anders’ voice behind him caused him to halt. “You asked me a question. And I called you _Domne_ in answer. You propositioned me over the breakfast table and whilst I have been taken in many places and at many different times of the day, that’s the first time I’d ever done that before. And you didn’t even _like_ me. And yet it was the biggest turn-on I’d ever experienced in my life and somehow the thought just seemed entirely natural that I should just acquiesce and give in, and I never even dreamed of questioning it. And as a mage raised in the Circle I should have known better.”

As Fenris whirled, his face white with rage, he realised Anders’ face was also white; he was staring at Fenris even as Invictus was trying to get his attention, a hand on Anders’ wrist. The mage only had eyes for the elf, however.

“I don’t think the desire demon expected me to fall in love with you,” Anders went on, still staring at the elf. “They don’t know how to handle love, you see. Only lust. But I did. Vic, too. Both of you. Maybe not at first - but that was the start.”

“I’m going to kill you, I said this wasn’t up for further discussion. My daughter is right there," Fenris said as he stared down the blond mage. Pin shifted uneasily.

“Papa,” she said softly.

“Don’t be hasty, I mean if you kill him I doubt Andraste will do him a favor like that twice. Just calm down Fenris," Vic said as he got in front of Anders in case the warrior lost his temper. 

Anders’ face was still white. “I just need to know... did any of us bleed last night?” he asked quietly. “Or was it only... only the urge? Did any of us shed blood?”

Fenris counted to ten under his breath before he went berserk. “No one bled, stop this right now unless you enjoy ignoring what I’ve asked, humiliating me," he said quietly.

“Anders, don’t tell me you think a desire demon was present last night? That’s pushing things too far, even for our terrible luck. Please stop before Fenris loses what little control he’s hanging on to.” 

“It may not have been present last night,” said Anders, his voice shaking slightly. “But I’m wondering if perhaps it was this morning.” His eyes were still locked to the elf’s gaze.

“ _I_ wasn’t trying to fuck you if you recall. I am done with this conversation, and if you don’t drop it I am going to be done with you. You all carry on with your discussion, I am leaving and if you try to stop me it will not end well, do you understand me?” Fenris snapped.

Anders rose to his feet as he continued staring at Fenris then took a step towards him. “But how would we know for certain?” he whispered.

“Are you just going to ignore me? I don’t fucking know how we’ll tell, why can’t you let it go?” Fenris carried on. “You made Callus so ill he threw up almost on me and Vic, and you have humiliated me in front of my daughter after I asked you to drop it, and you-will-not-stop!” 

“My heart, this seems very unlikely, no?” said Zevran to Anders. “Why are you so fearful? You are white and shaking - Anders, this is not like you at all!”

“It’s him,” whispered Anders as he stared at Fenris. “Maker. My nightmares. It’s you, isn’t it?” He lifted a shaking hand to point at Fenris as he began gathering mana. “I have to be sure. I can’t bear this. You -”

Dorian gestured sharply and a spirit bolt flew swift and sure to strike Anders in the midriff; he cried out and then collapsed to the ground at the same moment as his own bolt flew wide.

“Anders!” cried Zevran, drawing a knife as he glared at the magister. “What madness is this?”

“Hold!” roared Dorian, and gestured for him to keep back as an immense dark shadow suddenly reared up out of Anders’ huddled body. It towered over them all, and they all felt sheer icy terror.

“Come the fuck on, how many demons are following us around?” Fenris said as he stared at the creature. “Vic, use a spirit bolt on it," he said far too calmly.

Zevran had recoiled away from the fear demon as it reared up; Pin was screaming in terror, and Garrett shouted in alarm; Hal and Arden were scrambling to their feet and backing away. The Antivan spared Fenris a brief glance then threw himself at the demon with a scream, his blades whirling about him as he barrelled into the demon - and then his knives went skittering across the floor as tentacles erupted from the shadowy creature, wrapping around the Antivan and pinning his arms to his sides as it turned and hissed at them.

Anders lay unconscious upon the floor, oblivious.

“Meneris, your sword!” shouted Dorian as he turned and aimed another spirit bolt at the demon. “ _Venhedis_ , the damnable thing’s between me and my staff!”

Fenris lashed out at it with his claws since his weapon was still at home. He tried to distract it enough for Dorian to get to his weapon while he tried to free Zevran. “Let go of him!” 

“What did we all do in a past life to have this bad fucking luck?” Vic said as he let another spirit bolt loose.

Zevran was frantically struggling in the demon’s grasp, trying to free himself as the demon threw another coil around his shoulders, its grip tightening upon him. 

Dorian dove for his staff; as he turned and spun it in his hands he saw Invictus moving to flank the demon on the other side just as Meneris leapt for his sword. A blast of icy wind suddenly tore through the room and the demon howled in fury as several tentacles were frozen to the floor; Garrett was running to join Invictus, his face pale as he stood next to his teacher.

“Master Pavus! I’ve got Master Anders! He’s safe!” Pin cried.

“Good girl Pin - now keep out of the way and shields would be a good idea about now!” Dorian shouted back. “ _Amicus_ , how do we attack it without risking Zevran?”

“I’ll be a distraction, let it get me and then I’ll take it for a ride," Fenris grinned at his friend before launching himself at the demon aiming to snap its frozen tentacles and get his husband free. 

Zevran cried out breathlessly as he kicked out, still trying to free himself; as a tentacle came too close to his face he sank his teeth into it with a snarl. The demon was trying to throw another tentacle about his neck as the Antivan struggled wildly. 

Garrett threw a lightning bolt at the demon at the same time as Dorian and Invictus hurled more spirit bolts at it; the shadowy creature shuddered then howled with a voice that screamed from the voids of their darkest nightmares, or so it seemed.

There was a flash of bright silver and suddenly Meneris was at Fenris’ side, his blade carving through tentacles.

The warrior pulled Zevran free and pushed him into Meneris’ arms. “Get him away from it!” Fenris whirled on the creature and grinned as he let his fangs and claws extend. “Come on, fight me," he challenged the creature. 

Meneris threw Zevran towards Dorian then turned back to hack at the creature’s tentacles just as the demon lashed out at Fenris, striking him hard across the face with one tentacle even as another curled about the elf’s feet; as Fenris reeled, stunned for a moment, he was suddenly yanked off his feet and his head hit the floor hard as the demon began dragging him towards its maw.

“Fenris!” Vic shouted as he saw the elf slump in the creature’s hold. “Dorian, hit that thing with lightning, anything you can but fire, we can’t let it eat him! 

“ _Vishante kaffas!_ ” hissed Dorian before throwing a lightning bolt at the demon; on the other side, Garrett did the same.

“ _Father!!_ ” screamed Pin. “ _NOOO!_ ”

Zevran threw himself down to the floor to snatch up his knives, then leapt at the demon with a scream. “You will not have him!”

“Forgive me love," Vic said as he called up an ice storm to get the creature to let him go. He flung ice shards at it as Zevran sunk his knives into it. 

Meneris hacked at the tentacles that held the other elven warrior, until he got through one of them, and immediately started on the other. “Fucking demons… hate them, hate!” he screamed. 

Just as Invictus readied another ice blast, he felt a haste spell suddenly tingle across his skin and then it were as though everything slowed down - except them as they fought the demon. The ice sprayed in slow, razor-sharp cascades from his hands as the demon writhed slowly, and Meneris turned and lashed out with his sword swift and sure. As Invictus dared a quick glance around, he spotted Arden standing beside Pin, Hal and the huddled form of Anders upon the floor; Arden was calmly throwing up more shield spells as he cast haste on Zevran and the others then threw down a paralysis glyph beneath the creature.

The demon lurched slowly towards Meneris but the elven warrior dodged effortlessly as he brought his sword round to scythe through the tentacles Invictus’ ice storm had frozen; they shattered in slow motion though Invictus knew that in truth it were he himself and the others who must be moving almost blindingly fast.

Anders lifted his head groggily and stared in horror as he saw the fear demon dragging the half-conscious white-haired elf towards its gaping jaws. “Maker, _no!_ ” he gasped.

“Master?” exclaimed Pin hopefully, then shrieked in horror as Anders threw himself towards the melee; beside her, Hal was shouting, “Anders, _no_!”

“ _Fenris!_ ” screamed Anders as he threw himself towards the demon’s jaws, arms outstretched. As the demon opened its maw to drag Fenris in and devour him, the mage thrust his arm in the way.

The elf swore he heard his name but he couldn’t move to see where it came from, he felt exhausted, cold and he hurt. Fenris closed his eyes again as he felt something pulling him, but he couldn’t muster the strength to fight.

“You can’t have him. Meneris stab that fucking thing through the mouth!” Invictus yelled as he grabbed Fenris in the hopes he could get him away. 

“Stop, Anders, I’ll take this thing’s head!” Meneris replied as he raised his sword far as he could before cleaving the creature through what he hoped was its head. Anders had thrown himself down in front of the creature, trying to stop it dragging Fenris any closer to its mouth; he ducked down as the sword passed over his shoulder and sliced deep through the gelatinous mass of its body, and then he screamed as he felt teeth sink into his arm. 

Black, stinking ichor splashed up over them both and sprayed across the floor as the demon howled and writhed, its tentacles lashing wildly in its agony. One smacked heavily into Meneris’ chest, rocking him back a step; another sent Zevran sprawling as it hit him in the ribs. Invictus managed to narrowly avoid being hit in the head by one as he tugged at Fenris, trying to drag him further away.

There was another flash of light as Arden threw a lightning bolt at the demon and it howled again, and then Dorian jabbed his staff into the mess and unleashed another spirit bolt directly through the staff down into the demon’s body. 

“One last blow, _amatus_!” cried Dorian.

Meneris gave it one final, hard slash, with more ichor oozing out of it and onto him, the floor and Fenris as he lay there stunned. “Creators, what in the Void did you all do to be such demon fodder?” he asked as he stumbled back to sit on the floor. 

Anders sat up slowly. Ichor soaked his robes and his hair, splashed across his pale skin; the robes were shredded down one sleeve, and there were ragged cuts down that arm where he appeared to have been too close to the demon’s jaws as it had thrashed in its death throes. His eyes were wide - whether with shock, horror or the pain, it was impossible to say. He was staring at Fenris.

Arden helped Pin to her feet as he walked towards them; as Garrett stumbled back away from the stinking mess that was left of the rapidly-deliquescing remains of the demon, he gently pushed him in the direction of the girl, then came to stand over Anders. He glanced at Invictus, who was trying to coax Fenris to open his eyes and look at him; then he glanced around to see Zevran groggily getting to his feet, clutching his ribs. Then he leaned down and grabbed Anders’ unharmed arm before dragging him to his feet.

“Hal? I think we need your healing skills,” he called to the redhead, who was picking his way gingerly around the patches of black slime upon the floor towards Invictus and Fenris.

“Fenris...Leto, please open your eyes, just a bit and look at me. Mythal, if you care about him at all, please don’t take him yet!” Vic held his hand and rubbed it between his, begging the elf to show some sign he’d been heard. 

Hal knelt down in the mess and laid one hand on Fenris’ forehead, the other on the elf’s chest, and closed his eyes. “Concussion,” he said quietly. “Keep quiet and let me work.” His hands began to glow.

“S-sorry.... I’m so sorry, so so s-s-sorry,” stammered Anders as he stared at Fenris; he was shaking slightly.

“Quiet,” Arden told him as he pulled him away from Fenris and Hal. “You’re bleeding. You need to heal yourself.”

“ _Carissimi_?” breathed Zevran as he stumbled over to sink down next to Invictus, still clutching his ribs. “ _Mi amor_ , no....”

“Let Hal work, we’re in the way. Let Anders take care of your ribs," Vic said quietly as he continued to rub the elf’s hand between his. He stared at the bruised face, the way he barely seemed to breathe under Hal’s hands. “Please don’t take him from us," he whispered to whoever might be listening. 

“Vic I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I should never -” began Anders brokenly; Arden pressed a hand over his mouth as he tugged him away, less gently.

“Quiet, Anders,” he said, his tone hardening. “Let Hal do his work.”

“Zevran, let Anders or Arden check over your ribs, I’ll sit here," Vic said brokenly. 

Zevran shook his head stubbornly. “No. I wait here.” His eyes were fixed on Fenris’ face as Hal continued healing the unconscious elf.

Arden tugged Anders over into a chair and pushed him down into it. Anders’ eyes were wide and glassy as he stared at Fenris, shivering. Blood was dripping steadily from his fingers, unheeded.

Arden circled around them then dropped down to one knee as he leaned forward to sling an arm around Zevran’s waist and press his hand against Zevran’s cracked ribs. As Zevran sat there, not moving, Arden began healing the elf silently.

“Lyrium,” murmured Hal absently; Dorian leaned forward to press an opened vial into the young healer’s hand. Hal downed it without taking his eyes away from what he was doing.

Invictus felt his legs falling asleep as he watched Hal work, and how he stared at Fenris for any sign he was coming around. When the elf hadn’t so much as twitched under the redhead’s hands, he had to fight the urge to panic. He could feel a pulse but he wasn’t going to be calm until he’d seen green eyes staring back at him. 

Meneris had gone to the other room to clean up, then sat on the bed so he was out of the way. He watched, worried at how long the elf was still. 

Anders could only watch, oblivious to the sting of his own injuries, as Hal continued to work on the unconscious elf. The longer Fenris’ eyes remained closed the more his worry, guilt and dread grew. He felt sick, weak and dizzy.

Arden straightened as he finished healing Zevran’s ribs, then went to each of the others in turn, healing their wounds. Invictus hadn’t even noticed the bruises and cuts he’d somehow received during the fight; Arden’s hands healing him were only slight irritations as he focused on Fenris.

Dorian watched sombrely, his eyes darting from the group clustered around Fenris to Anders as the mage watched, eyes still wide. He shifted his attention to Pin and Garrett, and moved over towards them. 

“Pin, I think perhaps your brother should know of this,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think you want to leave your father. So, Garrett,” he turned to the young man, “would you go fetch Callus, and then take Ellowynne to the College and keep her there until we send for her, please?”

Garrett nodded. “At once, Master Pavus,” he nodded then ran for the stairs.

Dorian glanced over to the group by Fenris and sighed, then he tugged Pin over to sit on the couch near Anders, who was lost in shock. He sat down near them to wait.

Fenris felt as if he were trying to swim through mud but something was tugging him down as he heard people talking, and felt the pull of magic. He didn’t want to open his eyes, but he did only to see Invictus hovering over him, and a mop of red hair when he looked to the side. “What hit me?” he asked quietly.

Hal lifted his head and swayed slightly; Zevran lifted a hand to rest it against the young healer’s shoulder, bracing him upright. Hal gave him an exhausted smile of thanks before glancing down at Fenris.

“The floor,” he replied. “Rather hard. Bit of a mess in here.” He wiped ineffectually at the black demon ichor that was soaking into his robes. 

“I didn’t do anything to the floor," Fenris said as he tried to roll over. “I’m… going to be sick," he gasped. 

“Oh... yes. Head injuries have that effect,” nodded Hal. He seemed dazed with exhaustion. “Probably ought to get you up off this mess.” 

Invictus helped Fenris up carefully and tried to steer him towards the balcony so he could throw up. “Fuck you’re heavy, Dorian can you help me.” 

“Vic, put me down or I’ll throw up on you," Fenris said as he swayed in the brunet mage’s grip. “Dizzy.”

Dorian was at their side in an instant, hands reaching to help guide Fenris as Invictus hastily set him down; they barely got him to the railing in time before everything he’d eaten at breakfast made a return appearance.

As he straightened, still retching slightly, Dorian steadied him then handed him a glass of water. “Better?” the magister asked gently.

“Ask me when I don’t feel like I’ve gone a few rounds with a Tal-Vashoth mercenary band and lost," Fenris mumbled after he finished the water. 

“Sit here and get some air, I’m going to check on Anders," Vic said quietly before turning to see Anders had curled in on himself and seemed to be in shock. He approached and knelt before his husband. “Love, can you hear me?” 

Anders stared at him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shivering. “My fault - Maker, I am so, so sorry, how - how could I have - I’m so sorry!” He was shaking, his arms wrapped around himself, the shredded remains of his left sleeve now soaked through with blood and ichor.

“He won’t let me heal him,” said Arden quietly. “Not sure just how aware he is of things. He’s in shock - and it’ll be worse if that bleeding isn’t stemmed soon.”

“Heal him, even if I have to hold him to keep him still. This won’t help him or Fenris if he just sits there bleeding.” Invictus nodded to Arden as he tried to get Anders’ attention so he could be healed. 

Zevran was trying to peel the sodden robes off Anders’ body; as Invictus finally managed to get Anders to look at him, the elf succeeded in peeling the shredded fabric off Anders’ arm, and Arden wince slightly as he took hold of Anders’ arm. Fresh blood was running down it from the deep cuts.

“Maker, looks like that bloody demon got in a couple of bites,” muttered Arden as he began healing the deeper wounds. He frowned. “These probably ought to be washed.” He glanced at Invictus.

The former First Enchanter got water and flannels from the privy Meneris directed him to and set to washing the wounds from the fight. “This might sting love, sorry.”

“Fenris - never mind me, what about Fenris?” stammered Anders and then gasped, shuddering, as Invictus worked on cleaning his wounds.

“He’s conscious, just out on the balcony to get some air after his breakfast came back up. We’ll get him in here shortly," Vic said as he tried to clean up his husband and keep him still. 

Meneris had gone out to check on the other elf and Dorian while they got Anders squared away. “How is he Dori?” 

“Confused and queasy,” shrugged Dorian. “Physically, apart from that, he _seems_ alright - but then I’m not a healer.” There was a cry of pain from inside the room; all three turned, distracted, and Fenris frowned, recognising Anders’ voice.

“He’s hurt, what happened did the floor hit him too?” the elf asked as he considered getting up and going to his husband but wasn’t sure he could manage it.

“You stay there, you still look a little green.” Meneris went back to see what the problem was. 

“Isn’t Anders healed? What was that yelling about?” the other elven fighter asked. 

“Not yet, Ser,” said Pin. “They’re cleaning the mess that thing left of his arm.” She nodded to where Zevran was holding Anders in place as Hal, Arden and Invictus cleaned the lacerations and cuts down his arm. “They need to get all the demon blood out or it’ll fester and draw more demons.”

Anders flinched and then sagged against Zevran as Invictus gave his arm a last swipe with the cloth. The water in the bowl was a dark red as Invictus dropped the cloth in; Hal reached up to start healing and closing the cuts.

“Dorian, I need to go to my husband. Can I have your arm please?” Fenris asked as he got up and grabbed at the magister for a moment until he regained his feet. “I’m ok, just let me take your arm for a moment.” 

Dorian stared at him, worried, as the elf clutched at his arm; the look of worry didn’t leave his face as they headed inside, the elven warrior stumbling slightly.

Arden was gently pushing Hal out of the way as Pin moved to take the young man’s place. Anders had closed his eyes as he leaned against Zevran. The Antivan glanced up as Fenris and Dorian approached; he gave Fenris a worried smile.

“I’m ok, I think. What about you and Anders?” Fenris asked quietly. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, even more than he had before...whatever happened to them. 

“Me, I am fine; Anders has lost quite a lot of blood however,” replied Zevran. Anders opened his eyes briefly.

“Fenris?” he slurred.

“Unfortunately, love," the elf said as he carefully took a seat by his spouses. “Let them heal you ok?” Fenris asked. 

“Do you need anything from the infirmary? I can send a runner for lyrium or potions," Meneris offered. 

Arden darted a worried glance at Fenris, then down at Anders’ arm. “Honestly? I’m thinking I would be a whole lot happier if both Anders and Fenris were in the infirmary right now. They have specialists there who know far more than Hal or I do about head wounds, for a start - and I’m not happy about Anders’ arm.”

“No,” slurred Anders. “They’re not supposed to know I’m still alive.”

“Anders, they honestly won’t know or care who you are!” argued Arden.

“I’ll go if you go, because all I want is to sleep and I think that’s bad?” Fenris said as he stared at the other man’s arm. “That looks bad, its all bad right now," he said quietly. 

Anders sighed as he let his head rest on Zevran’s shoulder. “Alright,” he whispered as he closed his eyes.

“Thank you, my heart,” murmured Zevran. He bent to kiss Anders’ cheek gently, then turned at the sound of feet hurrying up the stairs just as Callus appeared, panting and out of breath.

Fenris looked up and gave his son a smile. “You can help Anders to the infirmary while Vic helps me," he said slowly. 

“Come on, both of you need more help than I can give you," Vic said as he put an arm around the elf. “Callus, if you please?” he said with a nod to the blond mage.

“Father - what happened to father?” exclaimed Callus, bewildered, even as he moved to help Zevran get Anders to his feet. “Dumat, what happened to _both_ of them??” he added, as Anders swayed and then began to crumple towards the floor.

“That’s it, I’m sending for stretchers for the pair of them,” said Meneris as he shook his head. He glanced around at the mess. 

“And the cleaners. Creators. What a mess.”


	54. Chapter 54

Anders and Fenris spent a couple of days in the hospital wing; Fenris on a ward for head injuries, Anders in a private room. 

Anders had been visited twice in his private room by one of the healers who apparently had an interest in diseases of the heart who had done a couple of healing sessions on his weakened heart; she had asked to come visit him to do a couple more sessions and he’d shrugged then nodded as Zevran watched, worried. When they were finally released to recuperate in their own rooms, Anders’ left arm was swathed in bandages from shoulder to wrist. He retreated to his room, quiet and withdrawn, shutting everyone out - even Zevran. When Ellowynne asked to see her father, the Antivan elf dissuaded her, telling her that Anders wasn’t feeling very well and needed to rest.

By the third day, Anders knew the others were beginning to worry about him in earnest, but he refused to let them in. Invictus, Zevran, Pin - even Hal and Arden had each knocked and been sent away. He barely ate; trays were sent away untouched, for the most part. He allowed the healer admittance each day, letting her change the dressings on his arm then lying flat as she worked healing on his heart. He could feel it making a difference, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She chided him for not eating before she left; once she’d gone, he’d locked the door then returned to his bed, lying on his side and staring dully at the the wall until he fell asleep again.

He felt deep shame and horror over what he’d done. Fenris had been badly hurt thanks to him. He’d been so firmly convinced that Fenris must be under the influence of a fear demon, from the way he’d refused to discuss the issue and then turned on Anders - and yet it had been Anders all along. If Dorian hadn’t hit him with the spirit bolt at the moment he had, then Anders’ own spirit bolt would have hit Fenris. As it was, Fenris had been hurt - and Maker, but it had been like that first fear demon back in Invictus’ house in Kirkwall all over again, only with Fenris knocked out instead of him, even if it was his blood the demon had tasted.

His arm ached terribly, but he didn’t care. He deserved it for what he’d done.

He wanted to apologise to Fenris, but how could he even begin to find the words? Assuming Fenris even wanted anything further to do with him. He’d said that if Anders continued, he’d have been done with him - and yet Anders had pushed, had been on the verge of actually attacking him. He’d be lucky if Fenris settled for merely throwing his ring back at him. He’d had no chance to speak to Fenris whilst they were in the hospital wing; and the longer he went without seeing him, the more afraid he grew until it was easier to just hide, assume it was all over. 

When the healer called on the fourth day, he didn’t answer the door. She went away after a while, and he slept.

By the fifth day he was running a fever.

***

The elven warrior was awake but staying in bed, glad to just be quiet for a while after the children had spent a good part of the day with him. It had been a strange week. Of the events that had seen him landed in the hospital wing, he remembered nothing; Invictus and the others had explained to him how there’d been an attack by a fear demon that had gone for him; from the way Invictus described it, it had sounded like the fear demon attack that Anders had assisted with, except this one seemed more powerful. He remembered nothing from shortly after they’d had breakfast however. Dorian had quietly explained their fears about the portals letting demons tag along; they didn’t think Fenris’ own Fade-stepping ability or the teleport trick he and his brother could do would have the same effect, but for the time being a moratorium had been put on any further teleportation by mages, and the teaching of the portal magic by the College had been put on hold.

He’d wanted to talk to Anders; when last he’d seen him the mage had passed out from shock and blood loss and he was being carried on a stretcher to a different part of the hospital wing. Anders had been released a few hours before he had, and by the time he and Invictus had walked back to the room Anders had already shut himself away and was refusing to talk to anyone - not even Zevran.

He’d resolved to go knock on Anders’ door himself, but then Pin and Callus had shown up with Marian and Garrett, which meant Ellowynne as well, and then he’d been distracted. By the time they’d all left him in peace it was late afternoon and he was glad of the peace and quiet. 

Soon the quiet got to him and he felt antsy, unable to shake the feeling something was very wrong. He dressed and headed down to Anders’ room, hopeful he could talk to his husband and ease the dread he felt. He knocked, concerned when he heard nothing from the other side. As far as he knew, Anders had been released as well but he’d sequestered himself from the others. He knocked again, and when he had no answer, he called out for the mage.

“Anders, open up please.”

He thought he heard a faint sound from inside; a voice groaning and then muttering something he couldn’t quite make out. He leaned closer, and his foot hit something; glancing down, he realised it was a tray, the food on the plate untouched.

“Anders? Can you open the door?” Fenris asked before he tried the latch, finding it locked. 

There was another faint groan, and then Fenris’ sharp ears could just make out a weak voice. “Go away. Leave me be.”

“The Void I am, open this door Anders," Fenris said as he put his ear to the door, concerned for his love. 

He heard a faint whimper. “Just let me sleep. I’m sick.”

“We just spent days in the infirmary, why are you sick? Let me in dammit.” Fenris jiggled the latch as he tried to get Anders to do more than whine at him. 

“Why won’t you leave me be?” moaned Anders. “I tell you I _can’t_.”

At that Fenris phased through the door, irritated and worried at how Anders had sounded. “I’m not leaving, and you sound terrible, that tray is almost full!” he said as he approached the bed. Anders was hunched up beneath the covers, his back to the room, shivering in spite of the thick quilt.

“I’m not hungry,” Anders said quietly, his voice subdued. “I just want to sleep.”

“What’s wrong? Are you still sick from the demon attack?” Fenris asked as he reached the bed and touched the back of Anders’ head, almost recoiling at how how hot he was. “Venhedis! You’re burning up.” 

Anders slowly rolled over onto his back and stared up at the elf. His eyes were feverish and dull, his face pale and sweating. “Why are you here?” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse as though he had been coughing. “How can you bear to be near me?” He turned his face away and closed his eyes.

“You’re my husband and I love you that’s how. Why have you gotten so sick, what’s wrong Anders?” Fenris asked again as he looked around for a basin so he could try and cool the other man off before he panicked and went to the infirmary. 

“I don’t know,” murmured Anders. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s what I deserve for how I treated you.” He coughed fitfully then winced, his throat feeling raw. He pushed the covers down fitfully; Fenris could see the bandage down his left arm was untidy and stained in a couple of places where fluid had seeped through. As Anders shifted it without thinking, he flinched and drew his breath in with a sharp hiss. “Maker... burns,” he whispered. “Burning up. Can’t think straight.”

“Alright, we’re going to the infirmary, now," Fenris said before gathering the blond in his arms and teleporting back to have him seen. 

“No!” cried Anders; he clutched at Fenris as they arrived near the main doors, and then turned his head and retched, dry heaving. “Maker, no, take me back,” he moaned. “Please!”

“No, you just said you can’t think straight and you are burning up. I’m no healer and I’ll be damned if you die alone in that room. Now let me get you to a healer," Fenris said as he strode in looking for Parcival or someone to help. 

“Put me down, damn you!” exclaimed Anders, trying to struggle out of Fenris’ arms even as one of the healing assistants hurried towards him.

“Ser? Is there something wrong? Does your friend need assistance?” she asked.

“No, dammit, I don’t need help!” cried Anders. “Maker’s balls, I’m a healer myself, I don’t need assistance - I just want to be left alone!”

“You couldn’t heal a damned bird right now so I brought you here. So help me if you manage to fall and crack _your_ skull open I am going to be angry. Now stop yelling and let someone look at you," Fenris muttered as he tried to keep Anders upright. 

Anders angrily tried to pull away again then cried out as the movement jarred his arm; clutching at it, he gave up struggling, hanging his head. “If I let someone look at me, will you take me back?” he asked tiredly.

“No, we’re going to see Vic and Zevran afterward and I’m going to find out why you were alone and not with them. Do you really want to push me Anders?” Fenris asked testily.

“Ser?” said the healer as she stepped closer. “Those bandages really ought to be changed, and you look unwell.” She glanced to Fenris. “Would you bring him this way, messere?”

“Do whatever you wish,” said Anders dully.

“Mythal give me patience," Fenris muttered as he followed the healer and let her work on Anders as he watched carefully. 

She unwound the bandages and began to remove the dressings, and Fenris winced as she uncovered what looked like a series of unpleasantly deep cuts down the length of Anders’ arm. It looked like he’d been savaged by sharks, he mused; he’d seen a sailor fished out of the sea near Seheron once whose limbs had been attacked and sported similar injuries. Some of the bite wounds down Anders’ arm looked unhealthy, the flesh around them puffy as they exuded fluids.

“I’m afraid these will need careful cleaning, messere; your friend’s arm seems to have become infected,” the healer sighed as she shook her head. “Wait here and I shall fetch clean bandages.” She bustled away, leaving Anders to sit on the chair in the small cubicle as Fenris watched.

Anders glanced at the mess down his arm, then looked away. He looked tired and ill, his hair ratty and unkempt, and Fenris found himself wondering if the mage had spent this whole past week hiding in bed. Now Zevran and Invictus’ worries became clear; whatever else ailed Anders, evidently he hadn’t been taking care of himself whilst he was hiding away.

“So, what’s the problem and why do you think I shouldn’t want to be with you?” Fenris asked once they were alone. 

“Because you said as much,” replied Anders as he stared at the floor. “You said we were done. You were hurt because of me; you might have been killed. I - if Dorian hadn’t hit me -” He shuddered and hunched in upon himself, biting his lip.

Fenris tilted his head and stared at Anders in confusion. “What on Thedas made you think I said we were done? I can’t remember what happened by the way, so you have to fill me in. All I remember is coming around in the infirmary and feeling confused. After all we’ve been through why would I say that love?” 

The healer chose that moment to return, and Fenris cursed inwardly her timing as Anders remained silent. She handed some sort of potion to Anders to drink, and then she set to work cleaning the infected wounds. Anders’ face contorted in a pained grimace and he gasped as she cleaned out a couple of stubborn cuts, but he bit his lip and didn’t cry out.

“Nearly done,” she murmured before giving his arm a last wipe down then starting to dress and bandage his arm. “I’ll put this in a sling for you; you should avoid using it as much as possible and the dressings will need changing daily. I’ll give you a febrifuge to bring down your fever as well, and a tonic for your blood.”

Anders merely nodded, his eyes on the floor as she finished bandaging him up then put his arm in a sling. She turned to Fenris and handed him a small basket with several potion bottles. “He should take one of the dark green ones three times a day with food for the next three days; give him one of the yellow ones at the next meal, then one more each morning and night for the next two days. The dressings will need changing daily until the cuts have healed over; any sign of further infection and bring him straight back, alright?”

She turned back to Anders. “Did anyone ever tell you, you look so much like the old late Grand Enchanter, Anders?” she smiled. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had such a crush on him - I saw him once, when the Inquisition came through my village. He looked so noble and fair - I told my father then that one day I’d be a healer, just like him.”

Anders glanced up at her, startled. “Oh. That’s... well... I guess you were right?” he said, dazedly. “Though I’m sure he wasn’t half as noble as you might think. He was just a man, after all.”

“Ah, but without him we would never have the Colleges, would we?” she smiled. She nodded to Fenris. “Should you need further help, just ask for Martha, messeres.” She gathered the dirty bandages and bowl of water and left them in peace.

The moment she was gone, Anders groaned and dropped his head to his good hand.

“You were about to say before your healer returned?” Fenris asked with a stern look to his husband. 

“Please take me back to my room, and then I’ll explain what I can,” answered Anders wearily. “I just want to lie down now.”

“We’re going back to our rooms, you are not going to wallow alone and wind up right back here or dead," Fenris said as he offered his free hand to the mage while he kept the basket in his other. 

“My room first,” argued Anders. “Please. You can unlock the door and let the others in afterwards, just... please, if we’re going to have this discussion now then I would really much rather have it alone with you. You do whatever you want, take me wherever you wish afterwards, just... please.” He lifted his head to stare pleadingly at Fenris as he rose shakily to his feet.

Fenris looked as if he was going to argue for a moment but finally relented with a weary sigh. “Fine, but you are going to explain what in the Void is going on. I can’t remember that morning so I have no idea what you’re on about.” 

Anders nodded and reached out his hand to take Fenris’ hand. With an effort of will, Fenris took them directly back to Anders’ room; the mage staggered as they arrived and stumbled back towards his bed before he dropped onto the bed. He crawled in and tugged the covers up as he lay back, then patted the bed at his side for Fenris to come join him.

“The simple story is that I was weak and a fool and allowed myself to be influenced by a fear demon,” he said tiredly. “Except that in my fear, I somehow got the idea in my head that _you_ were the one being influenced. You got agitated when we spoke about demons and you told me to drop it, but I wouldn’t. You grew angry, and the angrier you got, the more I was convinced you were possessed. You told me to stop or we were done, and I just kept going. I was about to hit you with a spirit bolt when instead, Dorian struck _me_.” He glanced away, ashamed. 

“I think I blacked out for a few minutes. When I came to, everyone was fighting a fear demon - and it already had you. It was trying to eat you. I threw myself in the way, just ahead of Meneris trying to slice it in two, and it bit down on my arm. You were badly hurt; I think it must have thrown you to the ground hard and you hit your head. You would have died if not for Hal, and I... I froze. I couldn’t do anything.” He swallowed, feeling tears sting his eyes. “So now you know. I’m a coward and a weakling and I nearly killed you.”

Fenris stared at him for a while before reaching over and caressing his face. “Anders, you are not any of those things. The demon is what attacked me, and thankfully they destroyed it. I’m still here, a little confused by things but you haven’t lost me love. I still love you with my heart, and I need you to stop blaming yourself.” 

Anders glanced back at him. “I don’t understand,” he said weakly. “You were so angry with me. I was so afraid you hated me, wanted nothing more to do with me. How can you forgive me, when I was going to hit you with magic? Fenris, I _nearly attacked you_. That demon might have killed you! How can you forgive me when it was my weakness that did that?” He stared at the elf, incredulous. 

Fenris tilted his head again as he considered his husband. “I have done countless cruel things, and said things that should have pushed you all away from me many times, yet here you remain. Would you rather I scream, yell or worse? I love you and Zevran, neither of you is getting rid of me that easily.” 

“You would have every right to scream at me and whatever else you might choose to do,” Anders whispered. “I failed you. Your daughter saw you nearly die because of me. How can I face her? I am unworthy to be her teacher.” He closed his eyes and bit his lip. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“What is wrong with all of you? Zevran and now you? Stop this Anders, please stop saying these things. We’re going to see Vic and Zev and you’re going to eat something today, then we’re taking a damn nap. I’m not leaving you, do you understand?” Fenris asked as he continued to caress the other man’s face, even trailing his fingers down his unbandaged arm. 

Anders opened his eyes and gazed back at Fenris. “Do with me as you wish,” he said softly. “I’ll face them if that’s what you want, though I don’t think they’ll be happy to see me. I’m not sure I could stomach food, but I’ll try.”

Fenris’ face fell as he heard how despondent Anders was. “Love? They will be happy to see you, and I bet Ellowynne will be happy to see her papa. You’re scaring me, please don’t talk like this.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Anders dully. He bit his lip, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Take me to them then. Maker, I... I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I don’t know either and honestly? I’m very afraid right now, please let me take you to the others?” Fenris asked. 

Anders struggled upright again and nodded. “Alright.” He stared down at his thin sleeveless tunic and sleep pants. “Help me dress? Any robe will do.” He slid his legs out of the bed and sat on the edge, staring at the floor.

“Of course love.” Fenris found him a robe that allowed him to wear the sling even with it on. He carefully put it back on and tied the sash before stepping back and offering his arm. “Allow me?” 

Anders managed to get to his feet and leaned on Fenris’ arm. He stumbled towards the door with Fenris’ support, and unlocked it. He kept his eyes on the floor as Fenris led him to the main room; he didn’t look up as they entered.

Zevran leapt to his feet as they walked slowly into the room. “My heart, what has happened to you?” he exclaimed, aghast.

“He’s been hiding away in his room, and his injuries got a bit worse. Let him sit first before you all pounce on him," Fenris said as he led Anders to a couch. 

“Would you like something to drink, or should I get a tray sent up?” Vic asked worriedly.

“Yes, food would be welcome, thanks Vic," Fenris replied. 

Anders sat on the couch, slumping slightly, his eyes on the floor as Zevran came to sit next to him on the other side from Fenris. He gently tilted Anders’ face towards him, his hand cupped against the pale mage’s cheek; Anders turned his head but didn’t lift his eyes.

“What malady of the spirit is this?” asked Zevran softly. “My heart, where is the life in you?”

“He blames himself for my injuries, and seems to be in that same grey place he was in before," Fenris said as he slipped an arm around the mage. 

Zevran glanced up at Fenris. “Another despair demon?” he asked softly. “Or is this that same affliction of the spirit that he suffered when we travelled to Tevinter?”

“I think when we traveled to Tevinter along with the effects of the demon upon him," Fenris said as he tried to get Anders to respond, to touch him in kind.

“Maker, what is going on to where we have all become such a draw for demons," Vic asked as he watched the two elves trying to comfort Anders. 

“I’m still here, you know,” Anders said dully. 

“Forgive me, my heart,” said Zevran as he reached for Anders’ hand; the mage let him take it, making no effort to grip Zevran’s hand in return. “This is so unlike you, it scares me.”

Anders laughed hollowly. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said quietly. “You didn’t see me in Kirkwall before Invictus and Fenris took me in. Or back in Kinloch. I wasn’t exactly the life and soul of the party then either.” He sighed and shook his head, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry. I told you I’d be poor company, Fenris.”

Fenris sat up and stared at the mage before turning his head toward him. “Anders, please do something! This is making me...it’s upsetting to see you like this again.” he caught himself from shaking his husband and begging, barely.

Anders blinked, startled. “Fenris?” he exclaimed quietly.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” asked Ellowynne as she came to stand in front of him. “Uncle Zevran said you were unwell?”

He glanced up at her. “Wynne? I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too good, sweetheart. I’ve been... sick.”

Fenris glanced at the girl then back to Anders. “Wynne, maybe you can get through to him? He won’t listen to me, to any of us. Please help him," he asked. 

“Fenris, calm down and don’t panic. That won’t help anything if you fall apart," Vic cautioned.

“Don’t panic? You’re telling me not to panic? Vic, he’s acting like he wants to just lay down and die! He thinks my getting hurt is his fault and I can’t remember that morning so I have no idea what he’s talking about and you’re telling me not to panic!” Fenris shouted at the brunet mage.

Anders flinched, and Wynne glared at Fenris before reaching out for Anders’ hand. “Daddy?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Anders exclaimed. “Please - don’t shout, I - Maker, this was a mistake!” He lurched to his feet and turned towards the door.

“Oh no you don’t," Invictus said as he caught Anders easily and steered him towards the couch. “You are not going back to your room to sulk and let these wounds fester again. Here sit with Wynne while Zevran gets Fenris calmed and I get a damn stiff drink.” 

“Vic, please - just let me go,” Anders pleaded. “I just want to go and sleep. I’m tired and sick and I just want to lie down.”

“No because that’s how we got here now, by you just being off to yourself. If you want to sleep, you can after you have something to eat and you’re sleeping in that bed with at least one of us. No more going off by yourself, that goes double for you Fenris.” Vic wagged a finger at the tall elf who had whipped his head to stare at him.

“What did I do?! I was in the infirmary Vic.” He snapped.

“That’s a miracle unto itself that you stayed put long enough to get healed. You’re not going to run off and sulk about this either because you do enough of that already. Sit down, you’re eating too and I swear to Mythal, Dumat and Andraste you all are going to fucking talk to each other," Vic said just as someone knocked on their door. 

Anders let himself be pushed back down onto the couch and slumped, closing his eyes as Wynne scrambled onto the couch next to him. Shaking his head, Invictus made his way to the door to find it was one of the kitchen staff with a tray of food. He was blinking in surprise, and had evidently overheard their shouting.

“Everything alright, messere?” he asked.

“Yes, fine thank you serah. Please leave the tray and we’ll take it from here," Vic said quietly. One the staff had left, he prepared a bowl of food for Anders and set a place for him. “Wynne, get your dad over here please?” 

“Yes, Uncle Vic,” said Wynne as she got to her feet and tugged at Anders’ good hand. He wearily got to his feet and let himself be guided to the table, where he sat and stared at the bowl of stew with disinterest. He glanced up to see Invictus frowning at him; with a small, faint sigh he took up the spoon and began to slowly eat, forcing himself to choke it down.

Zevran was watching him with worried eyes; after a moment, he rose and poured two glasses of wine. Setting one in front of Anders, he sat down opposite and watched as Anders ate with little appetite.

“Anders,” he said softly. “What can we do?”

Anders shrugged and didn’t look up. “I’ll either get over this or I won’t,” he said, his voice flat. “There’s not exactly a lot you can do either way.”

The elf glanced away and bit his thumb distractedly. “That cannot be true,” he declared.

“Anders, there has to be something we can do. You are blaming yourself for what happened and that’s not right. Fenris is fine, a little shaken up but fine I mean look at him.” Vic pointed at the elf who was giving him a dirty look.

Anders set down his spoon and sighed as he dropped his head into his hand. “Vic... regardless of whether you believe it was my fault or not, the simple truth is that I was under the influence of a fear demon and it was me who allowed it to manifest. I was possessed. It might easily have killed any of us and we’re bloody lucky Fenris got away with a concussion. If Meneris hadn’t charged in with his sword, Maker only knows what it could have done with my blood. So yes, it _was_ my fault, and I’m just going to have to come to terms with that. I am tired, I’m tired of being scared, and I just wish we could go back home and put all this behind us. Most of all though, I just want to sleep. I’m still sick, and feeling very far from myself.”

“It’s not your fault!” Fenris shouted before he saw the look Vic threw him. “Vic, I’m ok ...this isn’t his fault, please make him see that?” he all but begged of his husband. 

“Love…” he started but the elf turned away in frustration at not being listened to.

Wynne jumped to her feet. “Stop shouting at my dad, he’s _sick_!” she hissed as she glared at Fenris. “And you’re not helping!”

“Wynne, love, please,” said Anders quietly. “It’s alright.”

“No, daddy, it’s _not_ alright!” she protested. “They keep shouting at you and it’s not right!”

Fenris flinched at Wynne’s shout and backed down. He fell silent, and went to the far side of the room, in case she lashed out at him again with her power.

Invictus threw his hands up when he saw the hangdog look on Fenris’ face and heard Wynne’s anger. “How about you stop yelling Ellowynne or are you going to try and freeze someone since you can’t call fire anymore?” he snapped. 

She went stiff and rigid as she stared at him, eyes wide. “That’s not fair,” she said in a low voice. “That’s _so_ not fair.”

Anders lifted her head and glanced to her, then back at Invictus with a frown. “Vic. That was out of order,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I know but look at what’s happening here. She yelled at us because we’re trying to get through to you. Last time she lost her temper at Fenris, she almost burned the house down. I know she apologized but I’m also tired of seeing that.” He pointed to where the elf had taken a chair across the room and was looking away.

“Leave her alone Vic, she’s just worried for her father, after all I keep hurting him right?” Fenris said just loud enough to be heard. 

Anders got to his feet. “Come on, Wynne,” he said quietly. 

“Daddy?” she asked as she took his hand.

“I need some air. Somewhere where there’s no shouting, and no-one trying to bully my daughter,” he said quietly. “And where no-one is going to be jumpy around a _child_ because she happened to be born a mage.” He turned and started walking towards the door.

“That’s not what I said and you know it Anders," Fenris snapped as he saw them leaving. “Know what? I am done with all of you, you stay because I’m going. I don’t know where but I’m fucking done," he said as he strode past him and headed out to the courtyard. He’d had enough, and he was going somewhere, maybe even Rivain to stay with Isabela and Aeolus for a while.

Anders halted as Fenris stalked out; he glanced at Invictus, then continued out the door. He turned and headed down the hall to the set of stairs at the far end.

“Daddy, where are we going?” Wynne asked him quietly.

“I don’t know and frankly I don’t care, sweetheart,” Anders replied; behind him he heard Zevran and Invictus calling his name but kept walking. “If I stay in that room one more minute I think I shall scream myself. I need to get out where I can see the sky and calm down.”

“Daddy, you’re still sick,” Wynne said dubiously. He smiled slightly.

“We won’t go far,” he promised her. “Maybe down to the gate, perhaps a bit beyond.”

Invictus watched them go before turning to Zevran. “What just happened?” he asked. 

“I do not know, my love,” said Zevran, his expression troubled. “But I do not think it wise to let Anders go off alone with only Wynne. He could barely stand earlier, and he did not eat much. Fenris, I think, perhaps should be left alone - let us go follow Anders, you and I, eh? If he should faint then it would take both of us to carry him back, I am thinking.”

“I’m afraid Fenris has left for good," Vic said quietly as they started towards the stairs. 

Zevran shook his head. “No, I do not think he would be so petty,” he disagreed. “My _carissimi_ is hot-headed, yes - but he loves Anders. He would not abandon us so easily - particularly when Anders is so obviously not himself. Come, if he could forgive me, I am sure he will also forgive Anders when he has calmed, no? We have been through far worse, after all. And if I am wrong and he truly is that petty? Then he is not the man I married.”

“You haven’t known him long as I have Zevran, its not about pettiness. He’s hurting and I love him more than life itself but when he’s pushed past his limit he may withdraw and build walls again.” Vic replied. 

Zevran halted and gestured back towards their rooms. “No, Invictus,” he declared. “That? That was pettiness. Storming out? That is the act of a petulant child, not a man! He may be hurting, but he shouted at a sick man who we could all clearly see was not himself. Then instead of apologising, he runs away!” He shook his head. “No. I do not believe he has hit any limits but that of his manners and his commonsense. And when he comes back to his senses he, too, will realise that. But if he allows himself to build walls over this? Then perhaps you are right and I do not know him at all.” He turned and carried on walking after Anders and Ellowynne, swearing to himself in Antivan.

“Zevran, hold on and listen to me," Vic called out to him. 

The Antivan carried on several more paces then stopped, glancing back. “I am listening,” he said softly. “I am angry, and none of this makes sense, but I am listening.”

“Are you? I need you to actually listen to me because I feel like none of you are seeing beyond his anger," Vic asked quietly. 

Zevran turned slowly back towards him then nodded. “I see his anger,” he agreed. “And I see a lack of his ability to see beyond that anger. And for what is he angry? Not over what happened - he has said repeatedly that he does not blame Anders. No, he is angry because Anders is not easily fixed with a few words. A malaise such as his does not disappear with a few words, my love. He is angry because he is afraid of what will happen if Wynne loses control again. But she is a growing child and her control is much surer now. So. Tell me. What do I not see beyond his anger, Invictus?” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Because there is something I am not seeing here and none of this makes sense. I do not understand him. And whilst we talk, Anders gets further away and I am afraid for him.” 

He halted in front of the mage. “So please - explain. Because this poor Antivan boy feels very much out of his depth and I do not know what is going on.”

“Yes, Invictus please explain me to the poor Antivan boy," Fenris said as he stepped up behind the shorter elf. He had been angry, his feelings hurt when he stormed out of the room but having heard Zevran speak of him that way, he was furious.

“Maybe when you’re done, you can explain my reasoning to me perhaps? Or will the both of you continue to stand around in the hall discussing me like furniture...again?” Fenris asked as he stared coldly at Invictus over the shorter elf’s shoulder. “Do go on, don’t let me stop you.” 

Zevran started and visibly flinched, swearing vehemently as he shrank away from Fenris until his back was pressed against the wall, staring at Fenris wide-eyed, one hand on his knife. He swallowed hard as he stared at the furious warrior.

“Or you could explain to me yourself,” he breathed, visibly shaken. His eyes darted to the doorway of the room Fenris must have emerged from, then back to the elf; it was clear he had been thrown badly by his failure to have heard Fenris approach him from behind.

Invictus returned the elf’s stare as he tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make it worse. He started to approach Fenris but halted when the warrior skipped back a step and rounded on Zevran.

“No, you seem to know my motivations Zevran. You know me so damned well, and apparently know everything running through my head. So do go on, continue to discuss me as if you know my every thought, my every whim. Well, not so chatty now are you?” Fenris asked as he hemmed the shorter elf against the wall. 

“Back away, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran said softly, his voice suddenly low and dangerous.

“Don’t call me that, you have no right after what I heard," Fenris said without moving.

“I know you’re angry, but maybe don’t attack Zevran or force his hand, please love?” Vic asked as he watched the two elves, concerned they would actually come to blows. 

“You are out of your mind,” said Zevran, his eyes glittering darkly. “I will ask you only once more, Fenris: back away.”

“Then what? Going to stab me to make me move? Is that where we are now?” Fenris asked as he refused to move out of stubbornness, rather than fear of what the former Crow would do to him.

Zevran eyed him for a moment, then abruptly dropped his shoulder and rammed it hard into Fenris’ solar plexus. The warrior staggered back a step, winded, and Zevran turned and ran, sprinting away up the hall. Invictus had a brief glimpse of the Antivan’s face as he fled; it was pale, stricken with fear and grief.

He turned to Fenris, worried at how things had gone so badly so fast. “Fenris?” he asked as he watched the elf straighten up as he rubbed at his chest. 

“What? What could you possibly have to say to me?” Fenris snapped. 

“Fenris??” Hal’s voice echoed back to them from further along the hall; the redhead was peering out from the doorway of his own room. “What in the Void is going on? Zevran looked terrified - and he’s going to do serious harm to his leg running like that!” 

“He ran from me, we had words. I want to be left alone," Fenris said dully before turning and heading to the stairs.

Invictus watched him go before turning to Hal. “The Void seems to follow us I guess? Can you come with me to find Anders?” 

“Maker, has everyone gone mad?” wondered Hal as he came out into the hall, looking bewildered. “Yes, of course I’ll come with you. What happened? Arden and I could hear shouting, and then this! Where did Anders go? He actually came out of his room at last then?”

“Fenris got him looked at in the infirmary, then in trying to get Anders to see it wasn’t his fault that he was hurt; things just went sideways. I was… not kind to Wynne, Fenris is either scared of her losing her control or something and actually flinched from her. That set Anders off he walked out with her.”

Invictus took a moment to stop the shaking that had started in his hands, to not give in and cry out of frustration. “Zevran and I were talking in the hall and Fenris heard us, and he just...he was furious and pinned Zevran against the wall. Rather than stab him, Zev got him away so he could flee. He looked terrified as he ran off. I feel like I’m in the lowest level of the Void.” 

“Maker,” breathed Hal. He reached out and laid a hand on Invictus’ arm. “I can’t imagine any of that was easy for you to handle. Come on, let’s find Anders and Wynne - with any luck, we’ll find Zevran along the way, alright?”

“I hope so, and I hope he hasn’t hurt himself along the way," Vic said as he took Hal’s arm in his for support. “Why is this happening to us, what have we done wrong?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” replied Hal as he shook his head. “But Arden and I have been talking, and... well, it’s worrying. Do you remember when we destroyed the eluvians in your Kirkwall and ours - how we did that to constrain that unknown entity, and Flemeth told us that all the eluvians had to be destroyed simultaneously?” He looked up at Invictus, worried. “You’re not going to like this.”

“Let me guess, there’s more creatures and more Eluvians? You’re right I don’t like it at all," Vic said tiredly. 

“Just the one creature... but we know now that there are other eluvians - the ones that Solas controls,” replied Hal heavily. “And... we think we know what the creature is. We think it might be Nightmare. Which would be why it’s coming after us all again - it’s been following Arden, ever since Adamant. It’s not fully able to come through the Veil, but it’s been sending demons after us - and each time one of those demons succeeds in shedding the blood of one of us, Nightmare gets a little closer. It can’t get entirely out of that pocket in the Fade, but it could reach a portion of itself through - and each time it succeeds in hurting us, it gets a little more of itself out on this side. I think it’s still looking for a Hawke. It tried to get through using Danarius’ spirit and that failed thanks to our Anders - and now he’s Mythal, I think Nightmare is rather afraid. But not enough to stop trying.”

He halted and stared up at Invictus. “I think if we can find a way to seal that hole, then all of this will end. And I think we still have that means, even if we no longer have an arulin’holm.” He took Invictus’ hand and pressed it against his chest, directly over his heart. “I think I can still act as Mythal’s weapon. But I’ll need you - _all_ of you - to help me.”

“Not if it means you die for good," Vic said softly. “It will kill us to lose you Hal, please don’t do this.” 

Hal shook his head. “I think I can do this. I’m stronger now, and if Fenris is by my side as the Blessed of Mythal then I think I can survive - particularly if we can find Mythal Himself. Without them, I _will_ die - but Invictus, that’s a price I would be willing to pay if need be." He smiled sadly. “Though I would prefer not to. That goes without saying. The question is... do you think Fenris will calm down enough to listen to reason?”

“Not for a while, let’s find Anders and Zevran first. I owe Ellowynne an apology and I can only hope that Zevran is with him," Vic said. 

Hal nodded, and they continued on.

They found Zevran near the gate; the elf was slumped against the wall, clutching his leg and grimacing. As they drew closer, they could see the dried tracks of tears down his face, but he managed to summon an almost-nonchalant smile as they drew closer, struggling to get to his feet.

Invictus let him get up on his own so he wouldn’t further wound the elf’s pride. Once he was up, he hugged him and left his arm around Zevran’s waist. “Want to help us find Anders?” 

“I think they went on into the valley,” nodded the elf. “I could not keep up and fell behind.” He glanced to Hal. “It is well you brought Hal with you however.”

“We’ll find them, Zevran,” said Hal. “I can work on your leg before we come back to Skyhold.”

“Ah, that would be good,” sighed the elf. “It perhaps was not wise of me to run, but I thought it less foolish than remaining. Fenris was not in his right mind.” He looked away, his expression bleak. “He will be very angry with me now, I am thinking, and I do not wish to face him for a little while.”

“Nor do I, and it was foolish to just discuss him like that when I know full well how much he hates it and could have overheard us," Vic said softly. “Do you need healing now?”

“Then are we never to discuss one another?” asked Zevran before halting and wincing as he clutched his leg. “Ach... yes... I fear I do,” he confessed.

Hal dropped to his knees in front of the elf and lifted his hands to Zevran’s thigh, calling up his magic as he set to work, healing. The elf groaned in relief and sagged against Invictus, swearing softly to himself in Antivan as the pain lessened immediately.

“It’s a thing that still bothers him from his time as a slave. We all know it, and yet we don’t talk to each other, but about each other. Its done now anyway, and we should find Anders before anything else happens," Vic said as he peered over them and at the valley.

After a few minutes, Hal glanced up at Zevran. “How does that feel?” he asked.

“Much better - you have my eternal thanks,” sighed Zevran. He reached down and helped Hal to his feet; the redhead dusted off the front of his robes, and then they carried on.

As they crested the next small rise, they could see Anders lying in the grass. Ellowynne was sitting beside him, weaving flowers into a crown. She glanced up as they approached and then said something to her father; he struggled to sit up and looked around.

“Hey love, can we talk please?” Vic asked as he came close. “After I apologize to Ellowynne of course.” 

Ellowynne stared dubiously at Invictus for a moment before turning to settle the crown of flowers on her father’s head. He smiled at her indulgently, then glanced back to Invictus.

Vic knelt down to be closer to them and gave her his full attention. “I’m sorry for what I said Ellowynne. That was a low blow and I shouldn’t have said that to you, it was bad to keep harping on what happened with you when everyone was upset.” 

“Yes, it was,” she said, nodding. “I keep saying I’m sorry, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much I say it. Every time one of you upsets daddy and I tell you off, it always gets thrown back at me and it really _hurts_ , Uncle Vic.” She stared at him, her expression grave. “Will you promise not to do it again?”

“Yes, I promise Ellowynne.” Vic gave her a smile. “When Fenris is calmed down, try to get him to promise as well. I don’t know if you realize it, but fire scares him a lot, especially when it comes from a mage. It doesn’t make it right, but that’s part of why he is having a hard time letting go of what happened. So try and understand ok?” 

“Alright, Uncle Vic,” she nodded. “And I forgive you.”

Hal and Zevran sat down, Zevran settling himself behind Anders and slipping his hands around the mage’s waist. Anders blinked, then let himself relax back against the elf.

“I’m guessing you want to talk about me storming off,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, love. I just needed to get out of there. It felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“It's fine, you needed to get out and things got tense. Do you feel better now that you’ve had some air?” Vic asked as he stretched out next to the blond and let his head rest in his lap. 

Anders stared down at him and gave a small chuckle. “What is this - are you two trying to make sure I can’t go running away again?” A wary look came into his eyes. “Fenris isn’t about to come striding over that hill, is he?”

“Afraid not love," Vic said far too quickly before closing his eyes against the sun and sighing. 

“I certainly hope not,” murmured Zevran as he buried his face in Anders’ hair. 

Anders blinked, his expression becoming serious. “Something’s happened involving Fenris, hasn’t it? This isn’t just about our fight?”

“No, its not. Let Zevran tell you since he has something to say right now," Vic said. 

Zevran was still for a moment. “Zevran?” asked Anders softly.

“He overheard me,” said the elf slowly. “I could not understand his behaviour. And he was... angry. I never heard him behind me, and that... frightened me. I, the Master of Crows, unaware that there was someone behind me? And then he pinned me against the wall and would not let me go.”

“He did _what?_ ” exclaimed Anders, turning to crane his head over his shoulder, surprise and a touch of anger in his voice.

“I did not wish to truly harm him,” went on Zevran. “I... shoved him hard - winded him, I think. And I fled like a coward, for I knew he would be very angry. And now... I think I am very afraid, and I do not think I dare call him my _carissimi_ anymore.” His voice was wistful, and he turned his face to hide it in Anders’ hair.

“Oh Zev,” said Anders softly.

“He’ll calm down Zev, just give him time. You know he would not hurt you, and he didn’t raise a hand to strike you even though he had you hemmed in. I’m sure he’ll be calling you carissimi in no time," Vic said with a glance to the elf. 

“You did not see his face, my love,” replied Zevran quietly. “I think he truly meant to harm me. If you approach him now, then you are a braver man than I; I will not.” He pressed a kiss to Anders’ cheek. “Let me sleep in your bed tonight, my heart.”

“Of course you can sleep with me, Zev,” replied Anders as he gave Invictus a worried look. “Love, I think maybe we should head back. It’s getting late and the sun will be going down soon.”

“Yeah, I think dinner in our rooms will be good," Vic said as he got to his feet and offered Anders a hand up. 

They rose and headed back towards the castle, walking slowly for the sakes of both Anders and Zevran. It was growing dark and the torches and lanterns had been lit in the keep as they made their way back up to their rooms. They found them empty, no sign of Fenris; though none of them said anything, there was a palpable feeling of a lessening of tension when they realised the elf was still absent.

Hal fetched Arden and sent down to the kitchens for dinner to be served in the main room, where Pin and Callus joined them a little while later, perplexed that there was no sign of their father though relieved to see Anders was up and about.

It was Pin who noticed the rings sitting on Anders’ desk atop a note. She picked them up and stared at them before she walked slowly over to Anders. She dropped the rings into his hand wordlessly; he stared at them uncomprehendingly then took the note she handed him.

He read it through, blinked, then read it again. Then the rings fell from his hand as he stared at the note on his knee.

“No. Oh, Maker, no,” he whispered. “He’s gone.”

“Gone, what do you mean gone?” Invictus asked as he picked up the rings, three of them, all silverite, polished and clean except for one that had landed in dust. He snatched the note from Anders, reading it as the other mage had before letting it drop to the ground and running to their bedchamber for the ring he could use to call the elf and beg him to come back. 

Zevran picked up the note, studying it as Anders hunched over and began to cry softly. The Antivan scanned it, then stared around at the others. Hal held his hand out for the note and Zevran handed it to him, wordless. Hal stared at it, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“He... he can’t be in his right mind,” he said softly. “This can’t be real.”

Invictus came back in the room with the ring in hand, slowly sliding it over the ring finger on his right hand, he swiped his thumb and prayed the elf would answer. Anders was still doubled over, crying, as Arden gently rubbed his back and Pin and Callus exchanged bewildered and worried glances. Zevran was staring out of the window, a bleak expression on his face. Hal was pacing slowly, staring at the note in his hand in shock; as minutes passed and there was no sound from the ring, he lifted his head to exchange looks of despair with Invictus.

Then there was a soft chime from the ring.

“Fenris? Please come home, please don’t do this. I am begging you not to end things like this, not after all we have been through.” Invictus didn’t care how he sounded as he pleaded in front of the others.

“Yes?” came the elf’s voice from the ring. He sounded brusque and irritated at hearing his first lover's voice. 

“Fenris, please, love!” Invictus begged. “Please come back - at least _talk_ to us!”

“Now you want to talk to me? Of course you do. Why should I even bother, to be discussed like I have no feelings, like I an not a person by people who claim to love me? Now you can beg me when you think you’ve lost me? Tell me Invictus, in my place would you return?” Fenris asked coldly. 

“Yes!” said Invictus, his voice cracking. “Yes, I would! I swear I would! After so long together? I damned well would, Fenris, because dammit we have to mean more to each other than this!”

Anders had lifted his head, a hopeless look on his face. Pin had covered her mouth with her hands with a muffled gasp of “Oh, _Papa!_ ”

“So are Zevran and Anders there? Are they now silent when Zevran had _so much_ to say about me earlier?” Fenris’ will was cracking just a bit but he would not let them hear it.

“Anders is crying,” said Invictus bleakly. “And Zevran is....” His voiced trailed off as Zevran turned and stared at him blankly then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think Zevran’s capable of speech either.” He slowly turned and stared around at the others. “Pin’s going to pieces, Cal looks like someone just pulled the rug out from under his feet and Hal -” He broke off as he caught sight of the empty look in the redhead’s mismatched eyes. “Oh Maker. Hal.” He couldn’t hold back the sob that rose in his throat. “Fen. Fenris. Please. We need you. Don’t leave it like this.”

There was angry muttering for a while before Fenris spoke to them again. “Fine, but this better be damned good Invictus Endrin Hawke. I have hit my damn limit and I’m tired of the fighting, I’m damned tired of all of this and I can’t….I can’t take this any more, something has to give and I’m afraid it's going to be my heart or my mind," he sniffed softly before heading for the stairs.

“I didn’t go far, I’ll be ...where are you?” he asked. He heard a muffled thud somewhere in the background.

Invictus stared at Hal who had abruptly dropped to the floor, looking stunned and drained. “We’re... we’re back in Anders’ rooms - the main parlour, we’re all here,” he replied. He was fighting to get his own breathing under control, even as he crouched down next to the redhead. “Hal? C’mon Hal, keep it together - please?”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Fenris rubbed his thumb over the ring and let his brands light so he could get to them and get through what would be a painful conversation. He didn’t bother to try and dry his face or show that he hadn’t been crying either after leaving the note. He didn’t want to come back but something in him didn’t want to leave them, especially Invictus after so long together. 

He entered to find Hal looked a few moments from fainting, and no one looked happy to see him. “You wanted me to return, so now what?” Fenris asked as he leaned against the wall and returned their stares. 

Anders looked up and frantically wiped at the tears running down his cheeks with his good hand. “You - you came back!” he whispered.

Hal stared up at Fenris dazedly, as if he couldn’t quite believe the elf had really appeared; across the room, by the balcony doors, Zevran was turning slowly, glancing hesitantly at the warrior. 

Invictus got to his feet and hurried over to Fenris; he looked as though he were about to hug him but then checked himself. “Love,” he said, his voice wavering. “We can work this out - we can’t let it be over like this, surely?”

“Why not? You’ve known me the longest and yet you continue to do a thing you know that I hate, that I…” Fenris halted as he caught himself about to cry again. “You know how much I _hate and despise_ being discussed like that. You’ve known this about me since the first time I heard you and Varric discussing us at home in Kirkwall. Yet, you continue to do it when you know it hurts me Invictus.” 

“Then are we never to mention you at all when you are not present?” said Zevran hoarsely. “And yet you have spoken of us when we have not been present; I have heard you speak of me thus when you thought I could not hear, and I know you have discussed Anders behind his back. And we have all discussed Hal. So... you would have us not do this thing which comes naturally even to you, Fenris? particularly when it comes to behaviour which troubles us all, and yet which you will not discuss with us?” He shook his head slowly. “You are being unreasonable, _car -_ ” He broke off, a pained look upon his face, unable to say the name. He glanced away as he sank slowly into a nearby seat at the table.

“How, then, shall we speak to you, Fenris?” he said softly.

The warrior glared at the slighter elf and started towards him, uncaring that Invictus tried to grab him to keep him from scaring the Antivan further. “I don’t know, maybe remember its a thing that bothers me? Remember it's a thing from being literal property that is a scar upon me? I don’t know, maybe not stand around in the fucking hallway and gossip about me? You didn’t even give Invictus a chance to say two words about me before you laid into my poor character. So maybe, just maybe listen to the person who’s known me the longest instead of taking every opportunity to remind me how very little you think of me Zevran Arainai.” Fenris had advanced on the elf, and if not for Invictus getting in between them, he’d have pinned him in the chair. 

“Father! What has gotten in to you? This is worse than the fight you two had home," Callus said, not flinching from the glare sent his way. “It’s true, you aren’t listening and you would throw away how many years over what? Because you can’t leave something behind from your past? Of all the things you’ve endured, that one thing is what you can’t let go? Do you hear yourself, and do you realize what you’re doing right now?” 

Zevran had kept his face carefully turned away from Fenris, not unlike a cat wary of facing another hostile cat face-on; his hands gripped the armrests of the chair however, knuckles slowly whitening as he clenched his jaw; and Callus realised the former Crow was tightly coiled, ready to spring.

“You are not the only person in this room who has been property,” the Antivan said, his voice low.

“I beg your pardon? Did you actually say that to me? With Callus and Pin present? You were trained and you had leave to do as you would as long as you killed as expected. Me? I was literally collared like a dog, put to stud like one too. Every moment of every day, even when I could sleep, eat or take a piss was at someone else’s whim," Fenris said as he got around Invictus, barely to go after the Antivan elf.

“Father, stop! There’s no point in playing who was hurt more between you too. I think its clear you’ve got...some things you haven't worked through and Zevran keeps hitting those things with a mallet. Why won’t you calm down and for Dumat’s sake _listen_?” Callus pleaded.

“If you hurt him, you’ll regret it. Do you really want that on your conscious Fenris? Remember that day in your room, not far from here where we had to keep you from stabbing Zevran and Cullen wanted to put you in a cell? Back off and take a seat, and try to calm down. You’re not listening to anyone and you’re dangerous on a good day; right now I’m afraid you’re going to kill Zevran," Invictus said as he pushed against the elf’s chest, until finally the fighter relented and took a seat away from all of them. 

Zevran had turned his head slowly to face Fenris, his eyes glittering dangerously. “You truly think I was referring to myself?” he asked softly. “With your children present? And were Anders and Hal not property also, slaves in the Circle? How can anything I have experienced compare to their suffering?” He eyed the other elf intently. 

“Yes, I did," Fenris said tersely before turning to Anders and the others. “Well, what do you want from me? I’m not seeing a reason to stay and I don’t feel like any of you actually want me here.” 

“I want you here, even if you’re being an unreasonable asshole. How many years between us are you willing to throw away over this, ask yourself that Fenris. Look at Zevran and Anders too, think on the vows we took in this same fortress. Look at your children and see if you can just walk off after all you went through to get them free. Look at Hal, look at how he looks ready to faint or cry and ask yourself if this fight is worth losing four people who love you and your children. You tell us what the fuck we can do to move forward," Vic said tiredly. 

“What is wrong with you, papa?” cried Pin. “Look at Anders - he’s sick, do you think his heart will handle this? Look at Hal, look at Invictus, look at Zevran - Dumat, look at _us!_ Why are you doing this? What demon possesses your heart? You’re mad, mad!”

“Stop, you’re making it worse,” moaned Anders softly. “Maker, someone tell me this is all just a horrible fever dream....”

“Would that it were,” said Zevran softly, his eyes never once leaving Fenris. He was still tense, too still in the chair, almost as though he expected to be attacked at any moment.

Fenris glanced at his daughter then to Zevran and sighed. “I am tired Pin, I am fed up and I have my limits. There is only so much I can take and I have found that, though my dear Antivan husband thinks I am no more than a petty child who has simply lost his manners," he said bitterly. 

“Love please, do you want to be the one who kills Anders? Look at him," Vic pleaded. 

Anders buried his face in his hand and drew a shuddering breath. “Stop it. Stop it, please,” he whispered.

“What do you want then Invictus? I don’t want to kill Anders, but I am not happy with the way things are right now. For Zevran’s sake, and his fear of me I’ll go sleep in my old room and if you all can figure out what you want from me, I’ll speak with you tomorrow. Otherwise, tell me to go and I will.” Fenris was still angry but he was tired of them getting nowhere. 

“If you leave, how does that change anything?” asked Anders, his voice cracking as he lifted his head to stare at Fenris. “Don’t you feel anything for us anymore? Don’t you have any desire to fix this?” He glanced to Zevran, who may as well have been carved from stone for all he moved, then to Hal, who was equally still, his eyes empty as he stared at Fenris.

“Right now? I don’t know what I feel. How is me staying going to help? Zevran ran from me in terror. He’s looking at me like he can’t decide which way to kill me to keep you all safe. So I stay, and we all spend a very uncomfortable night sharing a bed? That what you want?” Fenris asked, sounding wrung out as looked at all of them.

“It would mean you still give a damn Fenris, that’s what. Do you know what I felt when I read your note, and held your rings in my hand? You might as well have put your fist through my chest because it would have hurt less. Take these back, please Leto, I am begging you on hand and knee if that’s what it takes. Almost fifteen years of our lives are not anything to toss out like this.” 

Vic walked up and held Fenris’ rings in his palm. “If you have any love, any left please take these back," he said with tears running freely down his face.

Anders stared at Fenris, then slowly dropped to his knees as he watched him. 

Fenris stared up at Invictus as if he was seeking something from the brunet mage, as if he was trying to see if the was a trick he was missing. Finally he took his rings back and slid them on with a glance to his longest love. 

“Thank you," Vic whispered as he leaned in as for a kiss but waited to see if the elf would pull him the rest of the way. 

Fenris did that, and held Invictus close to him as he tried to stop the mage’s tears and shuddering he felt as he pulled him into his arms. 

Anders slumped back against the seat of the couch and exhaled slowly, unsurprised to find his eyes were wet once more. He swallowed against the lump in his throat as he turned to look at Zevran.

The Antivan had slowly relaxed his deathgrip on the arms of the chair and was now staring at the floor, shaking slightly in the comedown from adrenaline. As Anders watched, the Antivan turned to rest his arms on the table then buried his face in them, taking a slow, shuddering breath.  
Invictus pulled back and wiped at his face before taking Fenris’ hand in his. “Please stay?” 

“Fine, go on and have dinner I’m too wound up and I need a bath," Fenris sounded defeated as he squeezed the mages hand briefly before looking around the room and to Zevran, unsure if they could repair things. Zevran seemed oblivious to everyone around him, trembling slightly, face still buried in his arms.

Arden got to his feet. “I think Hal needs to be up off the floor,” he said quietly as he approached the redhead. He crouched down and murmured quietly to Hal as he gently tried to persuade him up off the floor.

“The food’s probably cold in any case,” said Anders as Pin helped him back up onto the couch.

“I’ll go call for more,” shrugged Callus, darting a worried look at Zevran as he made his way to the door.

“Will you come back after your bath?” Vic asked quietly.

“If you really want me to Vic, though I don’t know how welcome I am to everyone," Fenris said with a pointed look to Zevran before shutting the bathing room door and wishing for the first time in his life he could do magic, if only to block out the noise around him. 

Anders rubbed his eyes slowly. “Vic, what are we going to do?” he asked quietly. Hal looked round as he spoke, his eyes focusing on Invictus.

“We need to fix this, and move on,” the redhead said, glancing pointedly to Zevran then back to Invictus. “ _You_ know why. There’s so much more at stake than us.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Anders tiredly.

“Later,” said Hal, not looking round.

“I’m going to try and eat, then maybe we can work through this. Someone get Zevran a shot of brandy and pour me a glass full," Vic said as he went over to see what he could eat while they waited for a fresh tray. 

Arden moved to the drinks cabinet and poured brandy for them all. He handed Invictus his glass then set another by Zevran’s hand; the Antivan didn’t look up. 

“Zevran?” asked Arden, frowning. “Zevran, are you alright?”

“I think he’s a little bit in shock," Vic said.

“Master Zevran? Can I help at all?” Callus asked with a glance to his sister. 

Zevran slowly straightened and noticed the glass of brandy. He picked it up, studying the colour for a moment before he downed it in one. He set the glass down carefully.

“You may pour me another brandy,” he said softly, not looking up.

“As you wish," Callus said, pouring the elf another drink before capping the bottle and putting it back. Zevran took the glass and sipped it slowly. He was studying the rings on his hand as he drank, slowly turning the ring from Fenris upon his finger, a distant look in his eyes.

“Zevran?” said Anders hesitantly as he rose and drew closer.

The elf rose to his feet, downed the last of the brandy, then stared at the ring on his finger before slowly twisting it off and setting it down upon the table.

“Tell Fenris I shall wear it again when I can look upon him and no longer fear he would kill me should I tell him a truth he does not like,” he said softly. “I cannot do this again.” He turned away. “I am not hungry. I am going to bed.”

“Zevran, no… please don’t do that," Invictus said in fear. “He put his rings back on, all of them.” Vic handed him the ring. “I have no shame, I will beg you as well not to take that step. Do you think things can go forward if we all start this? Please?” 

Zevran stared at the ring. “I tell you, I cannot do this again, Invictus,” he said, a look of pain in his eyes. “Did you not see the hate in his eyes as he stared at me? He would have killed me; this I know for truth. There is a madness in him, and unless he masters it then he will be the death of me.” He looked up at Invictus. “Do not beg me. Please. Do you think that I like this any more than you do? It was not your life he threatened, my love. But if he raises hand to any of you, I will die before I allow him to harm you. Should I, then, wear this as a promise of that?” He smiled sadly. “Are you prepared to bury me if he fails to recover his senses?” 

He glanced to Anders. “Do you, also, beg me to wear his ring?”

“Zevran... please put it back on,” said Anders pleadingly. “Not as a promise of that - but a reminder of what you meant to each other. You loved each other once - doesn’t that mean anything?”

Zevran’s expression softened into sorrow. “In truth, I think a part of me yet loves him. But I cannot go on like this. This is abuse, my heart. And if Fenris does not deal with this darkness inside him then sooner or later he will kill me.”

“Then he’ll deal with it!” insisted Anders. “Believe me - he doesn’t want to hurt you, I _know_ he doesn’t!”

Zevran gently cupped his cheek and leaned up to kiss him.

“For you, my heart... I will wear it then. Will you keep me safe from his wrath?”

Anders looked tearfully to Invictus, then hugged the elf. “You know I will,” he breathed. “We both will.”

“I’ll go talk to him, and hope he’ll hear me," Vic said with a sigh. “Have dinner and don’t starve yourself, either of you.” he headed for the bath with no weapon other than his words and his heart. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear father was under the influence of a rage demon," Callus said as he poured himself a drink. “He’s never been the most even tempered but this is ridiculous even for him.” 

Anders held Zevran close, stroking a hand through the elf’s pale gold hair. “Are you sure you can’t eat?” he murmured; Zevran shook his head. “Would you like a sleeping draught?”

“I...” Zevran sighed, then nodded. “Yes. I wish to sleep and not dream.”

Anders looked around at the others. “I’ll be back shortly, once Zevran’s settled,” he said. “Tell Fenris and Vic I’m coming back.” He turned and walked slowly with Zevran towards the bedroom.

***

Invictus entered the bath after hearing the warrior allow him entry. “So...wanna talk?” 

The elf glanced over his shoulder at Invictus, then shrugged. The mage took that as invitation to come closer; he grabbed the stool and dragged it over to the side of the bath.

“Fenris... I know you hate being crowded by people all wanting you to talk,” he said seriously as he leaned forward. “But it’s just you and I here now. C’mon, Fenris. We’ve been together over a decade. Tell me what’s going on, love, please? This is way more than just annoyance over people talking about you. I seriously thought you were going to kill Zevran - and so did he.”

The elf shrugged again as he considered the water. As hard and fast as blinding rage had come upon him earlier, he’d felt it leave once he was alone. He finally looked up at Vic curiously. “He’s always gotten under my skin Vic. From the very beginning, even when we were forced to take him in before rescuing Isabela. I was not going to kill him.” Fenris tried to believe that, but he knew he had been out of control again. 

“Well, I don’t think he knew that,” said Invictus slowly. “You should have seen him when you left the room - he practically collapsed at the table, shaking. Maker, I don’t want to think how much adrenaline he was running on. It would have killed Anders, that’s for sure. He’s a mess, Fen - he still loves you, but he’s afraid of you too. It’s like when you put on your growth spurt after Mythal’s pool, only worse. You’ve got to talk to him - I know he wouldn’t get under your skin if you didn’t love him.”

“I do not think he loves me, not after today. I heard him talking about the ring, I was not trying to listen. I wish I was not cursed with elven hearing to know how deeply I have hurt him. You know I detest being spoken of as if I am a thing," Fenris said weakly. 

“Please, Fen. He’s scared and hurting. Just... just talk to him. Please? He put the ring back on! He’s wearing it right now.” Invictus stared at the elf pleadingly. “Can’t you _try_ and make this work?”

“You saw for yourself, he is terrified of me. If I go in there and try to talk to him he may well collapse or run from me again. Just a few days ago, he was convinced I no longer love him, yet after that night he fears me again. Why should I try?” Fenris said as he curled up in the tub and rested his head on his knees. 

“Because you still love him,” said Invictus softly. “He thought you didn’t love him because he was afraid he’s too crippled and worthless - you _know_ that. And he felt you were rejecting him. But you got past that, didn’t you? I saw the way you two were the next morning! He’s just... hurt and afraid, love.”

“As if I’m not?” Fenris asked angrily. “I feel like none of you realize I have feelings sometimes. Like I can’t hurt or be angry at times. Am I not allowed my hurt? Why does everyone get to talk to me as they do and I can’t be upset?” 

“Love, that doesn’t give you the right to lash out as if _you’re_ the only one hurting,” replied Invictus a little more firmly. “because right now you’ve got us all walking on eggshells, and that’s not right either. When has Zevran ever treated you as though your feelings were worthless? When has he ever treated _any_ of us like that? Even me - and I’m the biggest asshole there is.”

“He doesn’t talk down to you Vic," Fenris muttered as he stretched out. “It doesn’t matter, you said yourself he was afraid I’ll kill him and I heard him say I’m abusing him. What can I do after that? Why should I try?” he glanced down at his hands, sad at seeing the rings, the one Zevran had given him that he didn’t feel he deserved. 

“He doesn’t talk down to you!” exclaimed Invictus, trying to keep the exasperation from creeping into his voice. “Maker, will you listen to yourself, Fenris? You keep doing this! You promised you’d stop and yet here you are again! If you think he talks down to you, you’re seriously hearing something that’s not there! He’s afraid of you but also afraid _for_ you! And you don’t fix things by giving up on them - fuck, Fen, what are you trying to do? You _love_ him!”

“How is he afraid for me?” Fenris asked softly, loathing himself as they spoke. “He ran from me, he.ran.from.me Vic.” 

“Have you not heard a word we said, Fen?” asked Invictus, despairing. “We’ve all said it - even your own children. You weren’t in your right mind, and he ran away because he didn’t want to hurt you. You hemmed him in, love. He had nowhere to turn and you were towering over him.”

“Fine...I need to listen. Do you think he will hear me or is he still sitting there as if lost?” Fenris asked in defeat. 

“I don’t know,” said Invictus. “He said he wanted to go to sleep, but I think Anders was trying to persuade him to eat first. He might have gone to the bedroom though.”

“Will you go ask him to wait, while I get dressed?” Fenris asked as he reached for a towel. 

Invictus nodded and jumped up from the stool. He hastily strode into the main room and looked around. “Where are Anders and Zevran?” he asked.

“Zevran insisted he wanted to sleep,” said Hal. “He asked Anders to give him a sleeping draught.”

“Fuck!” exclaimed Invictus. “Fuck, fuck - I just got Fen to agree to talk to him!” 

He dashed to the bedroom. He threw the door open in time to see Zevran hold his hand out to Anders, who had just poured a couple of fingers of the sleeping draught into a cup. The elf was stretched out upon the bed, stripped down to just his pants; they both looked around startled as he burst in.

“Vic?” asked Anders.

“Thank fuck I caught you before you took the draught," Vic said as he approached them. “He’s willing to talk to you Zevran, if you’ll let him.” 

Zevran sat up, a wary look in his eyes. He glanced to Anders, then back to Invictus. “I am unarmed,” he said quietly. “Do you think he is still angry?”

“No, he’s kind of ...wrung out and defeated right now. Do you want one of us to stay with you?” Vic asked. 

Zevran swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, staring at his feet for a moment before he slowly nodded. He glanced up at Invictus. “Will you safeguard me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course love.” Vic gave him a smile before turning to get their husband. He brought Fenris in and watched as the elf took a chair, set in the center of the room and called him.

“Vic...bind my wrists behind me that way I cannot, I will not give him a reason to fear.” Fenris spoke quietly, his gaze on the floor as he waited for Vic to respond. Zevran’s head jerked up and he stared at the other elf, startled, before he glanced to Invictus.

“You... would do this? For me?” he asked. As Fenris darted him a brief look, he saw that the former Crow was leaning forward, his eyes intent and disbelieving. He was clad only in his pants, barefoot and topless, his hair unbraided and loose; clearly he had been preparing for sleep. A cup was cradled in his hands; the distinct scent of the sleep draught reached Fenris’ nose.

“Yes," was all the elf said as he sat still, and allowed Invictus to bind his wrists behind him which forced him to sit up and look at the other elf. “Do you wish me bound in any other way before we begin?”

Invictus stood behind him, hating that things had come to this between them. He knew how much Fenris loved the other elf, and he felt like he was witnessing something terrible. “Do you want anything else Zev?” he asked too. 

Zevran shook his head. “No further bindings,” he said quietly. He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Anders did this once for me, except it was you who held him,” he added. “I feared his spirit - you remember?”

“I do.” Fenris seemed sad as he looked at the smaller elf, and confused as if he wasn’t sure what to say to him. “I’m open to whatever you need to say to me.” 

Zevran stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the floor. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “Unlike with Anders, I do not think a spirit bolt will bring out the truth,” he said faintly. “I... do not know where to begin. I have had many lovers in my time who sought to kill me, Fenris, but none to whom I had given my heart - save once.”

“I doubt you will believe this but I did not wish to kill you," Fenris said as he watched Zevran speak, hating how small and afraid the other elf seemed. 

“I have seen the look of death in a man’s eyes often, Fenris, and I saw it in yours,” Zevran whispered hoarsely. “You hemmed me in twice today. I managed to flee you the first time. I read my death in your eyes upon the second.”

“I wasn’t ...I wouldn’t have done that!” Fenris said before he caught himself trying to struggle. He sat back and blinked as he felt tears trying to well up.

“Zevran, would it soothe you if I did check to see if he was possessed?” Invictus asked. 

Zevran looked up, startled, as Anders looked wildly between the mage and the warrior. He’d held back, silent, but now he took half a step forward.

The Antivan dropped the cup and dark liquid spilled on the floor as he jumped to his feet and clutched at his head, beginning to pace restlessly. “No! ... yes? Ah, miserable me, I do not know!” He whirled and stared at Fenris, aghast.

“Will that help you feel better? Know if you can still work it out if it isn’t a demon and just me being an asshole?” Fenris asked with a lopsided smile. 

“I’d ...rather not do this but if it will confirm if there is something deeply wrong with you or a demon I’ll feel better.” Vic admitted. 

Zevran let his hands fall to his sides and stared at Fenris. “You.. would consent to this? For my sake?” he whispered.

“Yes, so we’ll know what’s going on in my head either way right?” Fenris laughed before twisting to try and see Vic. “If it is a demon? Don’t let it hurt anyone, alright? If you have to...if you have to kill me, don’t hesitate.” 

“I’ll...try," Vic said as he came around and called up a spirit bolt. “Ready love?”

“As I’ll ever be, go on.” Fenris closed his eyes and waited.

Invictus closed his eyes a moment, then nodded. He gathered his power, and then gestured.

The spirit bolt took Fenris through the back. He arched his spine with a loud cry, and then fixed Zevran with a baleful glare as his eyes glowed red. Zevran barely had a moment to register what was happening before Fenris rose to his feet with a roar and flexed his arms, and then the rope snapped and he leapt for the other elf’s throat as Anders screamed.

Zevran was distantly aware of the bedroom door bursting open, but he was preoccupied more with Fenris’ hands about his throat, choking him as he fell back onto the bed. He struggled wildly, thrashing as the hands tightened. He felt his kicks landing solidly against Fenris’ ribs but the malevolent red eyes bored into him as the hands merely clenched harder about his throat. He couldn’t breathe; his chest was burning, and dark spots were crowding his vision. He could feel himself weakening, even as flashes of light lit up the room; and then his hands fell away from Fenris’ wrists as everything went dark.

“Fenris, no!” screamed Anders as he threw spirit bolt after spirit bolt at the possessed elf. As he frantically tried to take Fenris down, he was horrified to see Zevran’s struggles grow weaker until the Antivan was limp and motionless beneath the other elf, his eyes rolling back.

“Please don’t have killed him," Vic said as he gathered energy to throw stronger spirit bolts at the elf, hoping he took him down. “Let go!” 

Pin and Callus burst into the room and Pin screamed as the creature that possessed her father’s form dropped Zevran’s limp body and turned glowing crimson eyes upon them, face contorted with rage. Hal and Arden stopped just behind them, and then Arden pushed past as he raised his hand and blasted Fenris with a lightning bolt.

The elf was thrown back, body convulsing before he collapsed to the ground; and then the glowing magma form of the rage demon rose from the unconscious elf’s body and lashed out at the blond mage with a howl of fury.

“Take it down!” screamed Anders as he threw out a fan of ice.

“Don’t have to ask me twice!” Invictus shouted as he drew up ice shards to shoot at the demon, throwing all he had to stop it.

“Pin, call every bit of healing you can for Zevran; Callus, let someone enchant your weapons with ice. Go!” Vic called out orders as he threw more and more ice out. 

Pin closed her eyes and threw out her arms; the room was suddenly filled with a howling storm of wind and they heard the distant yet shrill screams of spirits all around. Glowing wisps settled about Zevran’s form and then Pin gestured towards him.

Suddenly the room was filled with more people; Meneris and Dorian, several guards, all wading in against the demon. Anders and Arden stood side by side, hurling ace and lightning against the demon as Callus darted in with his blades between each blast of magic; Meneris’ sword describing glittering arcs as he hacked into it.

“All the mages, use ice to hold it. Dorian, use a paralysis glyph and Meneris, mind your metal arm as you hack at it. If we can freeze it, we can shatter the damn thing," Vic panted. “Anders, you and Pin work on Zev and I hope to Maker he’s alive.” 

Anders managed to dodge past the demon and threw himself down over Zevran’s far-too-still form, even as Arden threw a barrier over them both. Anders was near-frantic as his hands hovered over the livid bruises around Zevran’s throat before he closed his eyes and drew on his healing magic.

Dorian cast the paralysis glyph as Meneris tore into the demon, the guards fighting along side him, a crossbowman firing at it from the side of the room. Invictus and Arden wove ice around it and finally with a roar of fury, Meneris brought his sword down in a powerful overhand swing directly atop it.

It abruptly shattered then exploded.

When Invictus finally managed to struggle to his feet, Anders was cradling Zevran in his arms, weeping.

“He’s alive - dear, sweet Andraste, he’s alive!” he cried.

“Thank fuck," Vic huffed before he staggered over to them. “You going to be ok?” he asked quietly.

Meanwhile Meneris and Callus had gone over to where Fenris still lay in a heap on the floor. “Papa?” the younger elf called out as he reached out to his father.

“Wait, someone should make sure he’s no longer possessed. Dori would you mind?” Meneris said. 

“After that?” said Dorian. “Highly unlikely, but best to be safe.” He made his way over to the fallen elf and threw out a bolt of magic. When nothing happened, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

Fenris’ eyes slowly flickered open. “Zevran?” he croaked.

“He’s alive,” Anders repeated, hugging the unconscious elf to him. At that moment, Zevran coughed.

“Let me see him, then lock me up until I’m safe," Fenris said as he struggled to sit up so he could see the other elf.

“ _Carissimi_ I’m so sorry," he said as he went to the Antivan. Zevran lay unconscious in Anders’ arms, the bruises about his throat steady purpling. Anders cradled him protectively as he stared at Fenris.

Zevran coughed again, his eyelids fluttering before he lay still again.

“He needs to rest,” Anders said quietly. “You... almost killed him. His windpipe was damn-near crushed and you nearly snapped his neck. He’ll sleep for several hours now, and he may not be able to speak for a while after he awakens. But he’s alive and he’s going to be OK.”

Fenris nodded before he struggled to his feet and tried to get away from everyone as he realized that he’d not only carried a demon for who knew how long, he’d nearly killed his love. He didn’t get far before he heard someone calling him. He turned back with a shake of his head and continued towards the door. 

“Fenris, don’t go," Vic pleaded as he caught up with the elf. “It’s ok, it's ok.” He tried to help the warrior stay upright but the elf simply collapsed at his feet and sobbed brokenly. 

“I nearly killed him! I...was possessed all this time, get away from me go before you are hurt too. Take my rings, I don’t deserve to be your husband!” Fenris wailed as he lay there.

“Maker above," Vic said as he tried to haul the elf up and failed. “Dorian, a hand please?” 

“Fenris, no - you can’t go to your old rooms, there’s nothing there!” exclaimed Dorian. “They were stripped and almost everything sent on to you all in Nevarra!”

“Put him in one of the spare guest rooms,” said Meneris grimly as he walked towards them, cleaning off the blade of his sword. “There’s a couple just down the hall beyond Hal and Arden’s room.”

Dorian nodded as he bent down to get a hand around Fenris’ other arm. Between he and Invictus, they got the warrior to the spare room and stripped off so he could get into bed. 

“Leave me here, tell Zevran I’m sorry,” Fenris said as he laid there staring at nothing. “Take my rings, find someone who deserves them,” he said again.

“I’m doing no such thing. I’m going to stay here for a while. Dorian, can you go back and check on them?” Vic asked as he brushed white bangs out of the elf’s eyes. 

“Of course,” nodded Dorian. “I dare say Zevran isn’t out of the woods yet, and frankly Anders didn’t look much better - he looked dreadful, like he shouldn’t even be out of bed.” He shook his head. “Thank goodness Ellowynne had the presence of mind to come running upstairs to fetch us - though with all the racket Meneris and I were already halfway ready to come down to find out what was going on.”

“Ellowynne!” exclaimed Invictus. “Maker’s balls, we completely forgot about her!”

“Well, evidently the girl had more sense than the lot of you put together,” Dorian replied drily. “We sent her over to the College with a couple of the guards; Marian will be taking care of her, though doubtless she’ll be anxious to return in the morning and assure herself that her father and Zevran have taken no lasting harm.”

Invictus groaned. “You’re right, she’ll be worried sick. I’ll come fetch her myself in the morning.” He sighed as he glanced down at Fenris; the elf had gone silent. Invictus shook his head slowly. “Thanks for everything, Dorian. I’ll come check on Anders and Zevran in a while.”

“Of course,” Dorian nodded before withdrawing.

He returned to find staff had been summoned to set the bedroom to rights. Anders had crawled into bed to curl protectively around the comatose Zevran; now the worst was over, he was exhausted and looked pale and ill. Meneris met Dorian at the door.

“Creators, this is a bloody mess,” muttered the elf. He glanced to Hal and Arden. “I don’t know what’s been going on here, but we need to put a stop to it. Last time Anders and Fenris ended up in the hospital wing; this time we nearly lost Zevran and Anders looks like death warmed over. I want everyone who’s fit to stand, upstairs in our quarters tomorrow without fail and I want to know what the fuck is going on.” His eyes narrowed as Hal and Arden exchanged glances. “What?” 

He advanced on them and grabbed Arden’s collar, dragging him down towards him. “You know what the fuck is going on, don’t you?” he growled softly.

“We have a good idea, yes,” nodded Arden.

“Right. You two - upstairs. _Now._ ” He released Arden and stalked away.

Arden and Hal exchanged another look, then turned to follow, Dorian bringing up the rear behind them.

Callus looked around the room.

“Well, fuck,” he declared quietly.


	55. Chapter 55

Meneris paced around the room as the others watched him anxiously. Finally he turned to the two mages and gestured at them to get on with it. 

Arden glanced to Hal, who had sat on the edge of one of the couches. Arden himself felt too restless to simply sit and watch the former Inquisitor; he could still feel adrenaline coursing through his body from the fight, though he knew it was only a matter of time before it began to wear off. He began to pace slowly.

“You’re aware that Hal and I came from a different Thedas, and that I, Invictus, Anders and Fenris crossed back and forth a couple of times, yes?” he began.

“Yes, the other Fenris is dead, you were presumed to be so and the other Anders is off somewhere being Mythal. What does that have to do with anything?” Meneris asked.

“There was a third Thedas, and in that Thedas the Hawke in Kirkwall - Endrin Hawke - was killed by a demon when he attempted to assist his friend Merrill to repair a broken Eluvian. What they didn’t realise at the time was that the demon was rather more powerful than any of us could ever have dreamed - on a par almost with an archdemon yet far older.” He glanced to Meneris. “As old as Fen’Harel and Mythal themselves - and on the opposite side.” He turned and resumed pacing as Meneris and Dorian exchanged startled looks.

“Endrin’s last dying act was to seal the demon into the Fade - Hal and I theorise it may have been a pocket of the Fade. In fact, you and I have been there, Meneris.” He turned and gave the elf a grim smile. “It’s where I was supposed to have died. You encountered that demon there; it was Nightmare.”

“So is this Nightmare still trying to get out? Is that what all this is about?” Meneris asked as he looked to his husband. “Dorian, this magical shit isn’t what I know about. How is it Anders and Fenris have been possessed all this time and none of us knew? I mean Invictus had Danarius in his head for awhile too, but aren’t people supposed to become abominations when possessed?” 

“Everything I’ve ever read has led me to believe so,” Dorian nodded slowly. “But then again, nothing I’ve ever read ever suggested there could be parallel worlds like this - or that someone could pass from one to another.”

“I don’t think any of us were possessed in the usual sense,” said Arden slowly. “I think we fell under the influence of the demons, but Anders was onto something when he mentioned blood. You notice that when Anders was hit by Dorian’s spirit bolt, the fear demon came out - and the same thing happened when Fenris attacked Zevran. It was only after I dropped Fenris with a lightning attack that the rage demon manifested. After Anders fell, I noticed he’d bitten his lip when he hit the floor. It seems these demons have some way of influencing us from beyond the Veil - but it’s only when blood is shed that they’re able to come out.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “These were not the first demons to plague us. As Nightmare grows stronger, it attracts lesser demons to itself, and it seeks to strike back at all who bear the name Hawke. In my own Thedas, I fell under the influence of one such demon; it was Anders who broke me free of it. Here, as I understand it the same happened to Invictus in Kirkwall, and a desire demon influenced all three of them - it managed to incite Invictus into biting Anders hard enough to shed _his_ blood, which allowed others to enter through the Veil.” 

He ran a hand through his hair slowly. “We thought it was the Eluvians - it seemed each time we passed through them, demons would be drawn with us. We didn’t know that the ones in Kirkwall weren’t the only ones. We thought that if we destroyed them, it would stop Nightmare. But of course, once the other Eluvians became active, that only gave Nightmare all the more ways to reach out. And then of course there was Adamant. It waited for me to escape the Fade through a rift you’d not yet closed - and then it was able to send a part of itself to join with Danarius’ spirit, I think. And you know what that led to.” 

He finally looked up at Meneris. “We can’t destroy all the Eluvians; Solas - Fen’Harel - controls too many of them. Our only hope is to take the fight to Nightmare directly. Which means we have to go back to Adamant.”

“But - hang on a minute,” exclaimed Dorian, aghast. “How are we supposed to destroy this Nightmare? You stayed in the Fade to fight it off and give the others a chance to escape - surely confronting it would be suicide?”

Hal rose to his feet. “We have a weapon,” he said quietly. “One that Mythal granted us.”

“I don’t think Fenris is going to be in shape for a fight like that for awhile Hal. You saw how bad off he was after he woke up," Meneris said.

“There’s an Eluvian here in Skyhold,” said Arden. “Destroy that, and I think that will buy us enough time for Anders, Fenris and Zevran to recover. We’ll need other help as well - I need to contact Isabela and Aeolus. And I’d like to have Cassandra and Cullen on hand, and as many of the Chargers as Krem can spare. If I’m right, the closer to Adamant we get then the more demons we’ll run into - and we’ll want all the help we can get.”

“I can destroy the Eluvian if you take me to it,” said Hal. 

Dorian nodded. “Dagna won’t be best pleased - but I shan’t deny I’ll be happier with the wretched thing destroyed.”

“Then it's settled, let’s just destroy the damn thing ourselves and give them some happy news for once. Then I think you should check on your _amicus_ Dorian, I think seeing someone he’s not married to will do him some good," Meneris said with a nod to Hal. “Not personal Hal, but if Fenris is in a fragile way, seeing someone he’s not that deeply in love with might be easier.” 

“I understand,” Hal nodded. He glanced to Arden. “Maker, this is going to hurt,” he said quietly. The blond mage rested a hand upon his shoulder gently.

“Have you any idea how to use what Mythal gave you?” he asked the redhead softly; Hal nodded.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he replied. “Let’s get this over with. It’s late, and I’ll be exhausted afterwards.”

Arden nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

They headed down to the Undercroft, where Dorian led them to the cell where the Eluvian had been locked.

“Inquisitor!” Dagna exclaimed cheerfully. “What a pleasant surprise! You never come to see me anymore - what can I help you with?”

“Hi Dagna, and please just call me Meneris - I haven’t been the Inquisitor for some time," the elven warrior said. “Something you’re not going to like I’m afraid, we need to destroy the eluvian.” 

“What?” the dwarf exclaimed. “No - no, wait, you _can’t_! That’s a very valuable and ancient artifact - you can’t just _destroy_ it, it’s too precious - I haven’t finished studying it!”

Hal was walking forwards towards the Eluvian; as he walked, he lifted a hand and pressed it over his heart.

“No, stop - listen, you - you can’t do this, I can’t allow it!” cried Dagna as she pushed herself in front of Hal and tried to push him back.

“Someone get her out of my way,” said Hal, his voice distant. “This is going to be very destructive and I don’t want anyone else to be hurt.”

“Dagna, I know its precious but its also very, very dangerous. Its also an artifact of my people, so trust me when I know how hard it will be to destroy it," Meneris said as he pulled her away from Hal and behind her workbench. 

Arden threw up a barrier over them all as Hal came to a halt a few feet in front of the Eluvian. “Hal?”

The redhead bowed his head for a moment, and then they all felt it - the air becoming electrified with raw power as he concentrated. Then abruptly he jerked his head up as he threw his hand forward, palm outwards towards the Eluvian.

There was a brilliant, blinding flash of golden light and then the concussive blast of an explosion in far too confined a space; even with Arden’s barrier spell, they were all knocked off their feet. When they could finally see and hear again, the Eluvian was nothing but a heap of twisted and blackened metal, and Hal was sprawled upon his back, eyes closed.

Arden ran to his side and dropped to his knees.

“Is he...?” began Dorian, his voice hushed; Arden shook his head.

“He’s still alive - just out cold. We thought this likely would happen.” He bent and carefully gathered the unconscious man up in his arms.

“Take care of him, I’ll make sure Dagna is alright before I call for workmen. Dori, go on and check on Fenris and I’ll see you in our room later?” Meneris said as he helped the dwarf to her feet. 

Dagna was staring at the remains of the mirror, wringing her hands in distress and moaning. Dorian glanced at the dwarf, then nodded as Arden rose to his feet, Hal cradled gently in his arms.

“I think Hal and I will be retiring to bed, Meneris,” he said quietly. “With luck, a good night’s sleep will be all he needs.”

“Dumat, I think we _all_ need a good night’s sleep,” replied Dorian, shaking his head. “I’ll walk with you as far as Fenris’ room.”

***

The following morning, no-one was up particularly early. The sun had been up several hours by the time Invictus was finally able to persuade Fenris to get up and dressed. By the time they arrived in the parlour for breakfast with the others, they found a quiet and withdrawn group.

Anders and Zevran sat on one of the couches together, Anders looking only a little better than the previous day and Zevran leaning against him, head bowed. The bruises around his throat had been hidden by one of Anders’ scarves, but he still looked rather pale; he didn’t look up as Invictus and Fenris entered.

To Invictus’ surprise, Hal also looked exhausted, the redhead looking slightly ill and shaky as he rested his head on Arden’s shoulder. Only the blond former Champion seemed at all well rested as he held Hal close, one arm around the young man’s shoulders.

Pin and Callus arrived shortly after, Ellowynne walking between them; she ran straight to her father and Zevran, hugging her father first then, more gently, Zevran.

Fenris sat off to himself, head down and withdrawn even as Invictus tried to get him to come closer. The warrior shook his head and drew back even more when Vic tried to take his hand. Leaving his room had been hard enough.

“What’s wrong with Hal? Why is he so pale?” Vic asked as he decided to at least get a cup of coffee even if everyone else was acting strange. 

“He destroyed the Eluvian in the Undercroft last night,” replied Arden gravely. “Seems he’s still a living arulin’holm. Which... is something of a blessing, because it means no more demons can get in that way. We have a breathing space now.”

Invictus swore as he stared at Hal; Anders looked up at that, startled, and even Fenris reacted, half-rising from his chair.

“Wait - but -” Invictus moved closer and stared down at Hal, who glanced up at him tiredly. “He’s... not bleeding?”

“I’m much stronger than I was then,” Hal replied, weariness evident in his voice. “It still takes a lot out of me but it’s not killing me. At least, not yet.”

“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” asked Fenris, his voice low.

“He can handle one Eluvian,” said Arden with a shrug. “Nightmare might be another matter though.”

Even Zevran sat up at that. He opened his mouth to speak, but then coughed, one hand rising to clutch at his throat as he grimaced. Anders tightened his arm around Zevran’s shoulders.

“Don’t try to speak,” he told him gently. In the corner, Fenris flinched then curled in upon himself in shame at the reminder of what he’d done to the Antivan elf.

Anders glanced back to Arden. “I think you’d better explain,” he said, frowning. “Wasn’t Nightmare left behind in the rift at Adamant after you pushed us all out and stayed behind?”

Arden nodded. “In... a manner of speaking, yes.” He glanced to Invictus. “We discussed this yesterday. We think Nightmare was the powerful entity that sent demons after myself and Invictus back in Kirkwall all those years ago.”

“I think perhaps you ought to start at the beginning,” Anders said faintly.

Arden repeated what he’d told Meneris and Dorian, Hal interjecting occasionally. When they’d finished, Anders sat back with a stunned expression on his face. 

“Maker. I’d never dreamed... after all this time....”

Pin and Callus hastily poured cups of coffee and handed them around; they all seemed in need of them. Ellowynne was watching them all with a troubled look on her face. 

“So what does this mean, that you all have to go into the Fade on purpose and defeat Nightmare?” Callus asked as he glanced between Zevran and his father. 

“That’s about the shape of it,” nodded Arden. “Or find some way of permanently sealing it in. But it won’t be easy. Meneris is sending to Cassandra and Cullen for their aid, and I’m going to be sending crows to find Aeolus and Isabela. Might be worth writing to Varric as well. I’m hoping Krem will agree to sending a force of his Chargers along too - might talk to Parcival about whether any of the senior battlemages are ready to face battle. The closer we get to Adamant, the more demons we’ll face.”

He glanced around at them all. “If need be, Hal and I will do this alone. But we have a better chance of succeeding - and surviving - with help. Meneris and Dorian understand what it is we’re facing; my only question is, are you with us?”

“Maker, what kind of question is that?” exclaimed Anders. “Of _course_ we’re with you both, Arden!” Beside him, Zevran was nodding.

“Too damned right we are!” agreed Pin. “Marian and Garrett will come too, I’m sure of it!”

“And me!” cried Ellowynne.

“No!” gasped Anders with a horrified look. “Love, no! I can’t let you come with us - it’s too dangerous!”

“Daddy, _please!_ ” she begged.

Zevran held out his hand towards her and shook his head vehemently.

“Why would you even ask that of us? Of course we want all this to be over Arden. Do you actually think none of us want vengeance for the unending Void we’ve been living the last few months?” Invictus asked the other mage.

“You won’t face this alone, not after what father and Zevran have suffered," Callus added. 

“It will be extremely dangerous,” said Arden quietly. “It’s very likely some of us may die. Hal and I know that we likely won’t make it back from this alive and we’re at peace with that. But Anders and Fenris are fathers. I couldn’t in all conscience count on you to come, and I want you all to be aware of the very real dangers we’ll face.”

“We come,” Zevran managed hoarsely, the effort clearly painful.

“I’ll go," Fenris said quietly from where he’d uncurled and was glancing at the others in the room before dropping his gaze to the floor.

“You aren’t going anywhere Fenris, you’re not even up to looking anyone in the eye let alone going into such a fight," Vic said gently. 

“I’m going, I owe it to you all to make this right," the elf said before curling up in the chair again. 

“We have some time now,” said Arden. “Hal destroyed the Eluvian here last night which means that for now, at least, Nightmare can’t send any more demons after us. It will take some time for Cassandra and Cullen to get here - particularly as we daren’t use the portals. Aeolus can teleport himself and Isabela directly here once he receives my letter, but we can hardly expect him to ferry people to us from all over Thedas. And Krem will need some time to order the logistics of moving the Chargers any distance.” He glanced to Anders and Zevran. “You two are hardly in any better state to go anywhere than Fenris is, and I’m not letting Hal set foot beyond our rooms for a few days. Destroying an Eluvian may not harm his health the way it did before, but it still wiped him out and one night’s rest has been nowhere near enough to restore him.”

“I think we all could do with breakfast, or...more like lunch at this point before we start making plans. I’m hungry even if you lot aren’t," Callus said. 

“I agree with Callus, and Anders was always telling us to eat if we got hurt so the same applies now. Come on, everyone to the table and then we get to work," Meneris said with a long stare at Anders and then Fenris. 

Anders dropped his gaze and blushed slightly. Arden was already getting to his feet to guide Hal towards the table, where food had been spread; he got the redhead sat down, then started putting together a plate of food for him. After a moment, Pin got up to do the same for Anders, gesturing to Ellowynne to join Arden and Hal at the table and help herself.

“Cal, can you get some of that stew for Master Zevran?” she suggested. “I’m thinking that will be easier on his throat?”

“Of course Pin," Cal replied before dishing up stew for his teacher. He turned around when he noticed his father wasn’t at the table, but still curled up away from them. 

“Pin, can you try and get father to come and eat?” he asked his sister. Pin glanced up as she finished putting together Anders’ plate, then glanced to their father.

“I can try,” she said as she made her way over to Anders. She settled the plate on his knees then handed him the fork. “Do try and eat, Master,” she told him softly. “I’ll bring you your medicine for your arm and your infection in a minute, alright?”

“The fever isn’t so bad today,” said Anders tiredly. She gave him a sharp look and he gave her a sheepish smile. “Alright, I’ll take the febrifuge as well,” he nodded.

Pin straightened and gave him a small smile in return, before turning towards her father. Her smile slipped, and she gave a small sigh before going to crouch in front of him and reaching for his hands.

“Come on, Father,” she said gently. “You’ll be in no fit state to go protect Hal if you don’t eat, will you? Please. For his sake, if not your own?”

“He has the others Pin, he doesn’t need me. Go on, I’m not safe to be around if I can’t even tell a demon is influencing me," Fenris’ voice sounded rough as he looked down and away from her. 

“You said you’d go,” she reminded him softly. “Are you going to tell him you’ve changed your mind then? Is that fair to him?” She leaned closer. “Father, you heard Arden as well as I did. Hal might not survive this. Could you live with yourself if he left without you and died out there? Did you not hear what they said? Hal destroyed the Eluvian - you’re safe from demons for now, which means you’re just as safe to be around as Anders is. If _he_ can face us all and come eat, after what happened with the fear demon, then how can you do any less?”

“I’m a coward my sweet girl, that’s how. Please don’t make me do this, let me be," Fenris asked her looking up to see her giving him a plaintive expression. “I will help Hal when the time comes, I simply am not hungry or good company right now.”

Pin snorted. “Father, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t exactly a cheery gathering right now,” she pointed out. “Hal looks as though he’s ready to fall asleep in his food any moment, Master Anders shouldn’t even be out of bed by rights, and Zevran looks like death warmed over - he can’t even talk! Have you seen the look in his eyes?” She frowned. “No, you haven’t because you’re hiding in this corner staring at the ground. He looks _lost_ , Father. His eyes are dazed. Do you really think hiding in this corner and starving yourself will help anyone? _Venhedis_ , you’re acting the same as Anders did! What good did that do Anders? What good will it do you? And look at poor Wynne - she’s just been told all the people she loves, her only family, are going to ride away hundreds of miles off and some of them likely won’t come back again! If _she_ can face them all and eat, what right do you have to refuse?”

“You’re evil with wielding guilt my child," Fenris said as he finally locked gazes with her. “I’m a coward Pin, and I can’t face them. I nearly ki-” he was cut off as Pin covered his mouth and glared at him. 

“Not another word,” she hissed. “Right. That’s it. If you won’t listen to me, then I bet I know who _can_ make you listen.” She grabbed his hand, and before he could stop her she’d twisted one of the rings off his finger and was jumping away from him as she jammed it firmly on her own hand. As he stared up at her, surprised, she swiped her thumb over the stone and lifted her hand.

“Uncle Aeolus,” she said firmly and clearly. “It’s your niece Vulpine. And I need you to come and shake some bloody sense into my father.”

“Vulpine! Don’t call him, I don’t want him seeing me like this," Fenris said as he started to follow her. 

“Pin! Embarrassing him won’t help," Vic said as he watched the way Fenris’ expression changed from surprise to ...fear and shame.

“Don’t want me seeing you like what, Leto?” said his brother’s voice from directly behind Fenris, and then Aeolus’ hand came down heavily on his shoulder and the startled warrior was abruptly forcibly spun around to find himself staring into the bright blue eyes of his brother.

“No...nothing,” Fenris whimpered as he tried to backpedal from his sibling. “Pin ...just missed her uncle is all, I’m ok really," he stammered as he hit the wall and tried to find the door. It would have been comical if not for the way he was trying to flee. 

“Leto, you were always a lousy liar,” remarked Aeolus as he arched an eyebrow. “What in Dumat’s name has gotten into you? You look like shit, brother. Perhaps we should sit and eat, and you can tell me what’s been going on?” He glanced around the room, and his eyes narrowed as he took in the appearances of Anders, Hal and Zevran. “I can see that _something_ has happened here. Do I want to know why Anders’ arm is in a sling, Zevran’s wearing a scarf indoors - and should Hal even be out of bed?”

Zevran turned and looked at Aeolus, then tugged the scarf down with one hand to show the livid purple bruises circling his throat, the marks of fingers clear against his tawny skin. Aeolus swore softly to himself then glanced back to Fenris. 

“Fenris,” he said quietly. “I know that Pin would not call upon me except in great need. Tell me what happened.”

“No, she shouldn’t have called you like this," Fenris breathed as he reached back and finally got the door open, and fled. He knew it was a bad idea but he wasn’t ready to face his brother, not like that. He’d told Pin he was a coward, and he was damn sure proving it.

“Did he just run from you Aeolus?” Vic asked in surprise. He knew Fenris wasn’t happy at having his sibling called but to see the other elf actually flee was worrisome. 

Aeolus merely grinned. “Just a moment,” he replied, and then between one heartbeat and the next he was suddenly gone - not even a mere flicker of his lyrium to betray the Fade step. Then suddenly Fenris was bolting back into the room, only to stumble to a halt and stare around wildly, surprised to find himself back in the parlour instead of halfway down the hall. Aeolus casually strolled back into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Fun little trick that,” the older elf remarked conversationally. “Something I’ve been practicing a while. Hop behind someone, tap them lightly, teleport them back the way they were going without them any the wiser. Quite amusing the looks on their faces when they find themselves back where they started.” He folded his arms. “So. Are you going to sit down, eat and talk, or did you want to try that again? I can keep doing this all day you know.” 

“No, I want to leave Aeolus. You’re not going to bully me like this brother, and Pin you are in so much trouble young lady," Fenris said petulantly.

“Love we are trying to get you to sit down and eat. Let him have some space Aeolus and join us even if he’s being a brat," Vic said with a glare at his husband. He loved Fenris but he wasn’t going to put up with his moods especially after the discussion that morning.

“Well, I’m hungry even if Leto is trying to fool us into thinking he isn’t,” shrugged Aeolus as he strode to the table and reached for a plate. “I was actually just about to sit down and eat; I’ve been up since before dawn. Isabela’s bringing the ship in to Llomerryn right now, and I doubt she’ll be best pleased to have to do it without me. But I need to eat before I go back, and I’m not going back until I know what is going on.” He sat down and began eating. He glanced up at Arden and nodded to him. “You’re not looking too bad, Blondie,” he remarked. “Land life treating you well then? Heard you’d gone missing and that Fiona is in charge now in Cumberland?”

“Long story,” replied Arden with a shrug. “But yes, I’m not Grand Enchanter anymore.”

Invictus made Fenris a plate and took it to him, refusing to move until the elf started to eat even if he wouldn’t come to the table. Once he’d cleared half the plate he joined the others, glancing over to see if his husband was eating or sulking. He wasn’t a father, but he’d mastered some of the same expressions he’d gotten from his parents during his time at First Enchanter. 

Aeolus glanced to Hal. “Red’s not looking so healthy,” he observed. “Anders either. Should either of you be out of bed?”

“Believe me, the moment I’ve finished eating I am going straight back to bed,” replied Anders. “Assuming I don’t just fall asleep here at the table.” Zevran patted him briefly on the shoulder, and Anders leaned over to kiss the elf’s cheek. “I’ll be alright, love,” he murmured.

“Once we’re done, I’m going to take a long walk so I can get my head right after the last few days. Maybe try and get my petulant elf over there out so he can get out of his mood," Vic said and was pelted in the forehead with a breadroll. “Watch it," he muttered before he took the roll and buttered it. 

“Behave,” whispered Zevran hoarsely, not looking in Fenris’ direction.

“Save your voice Zev, I’ll deal with him later," Vic said with a leer at the other elf. 

Fenris set his plate aside and turned his back on them, still annoyed with Pin calling his brother on him. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Anders said softly to Zevran. “Just rest your voice as much as you can, love.”

Dorian and Meneris had been watching everything silently. Dorian glanced over at Fenris and shook his head slowly, then sighed as he turned back to his own plate. 

“Well, Aeolus, Pin has saved us the trouble of sending you a letter,” he remarked. “We should have thought of the ring sooner, really.”

“Oh?” replied Aeolus as he reached for the wine bottle; phasing the cork out, he poured himself a glass. “Connected to what’s been going on here?”

“Indeed,” nodded the magister.

“You’ll have to explain it all to me then,” said the elf before sipping his wine.

“Arden and Hal can explain it too, since they figured out the truth of it before we did, but the very short version is we need to stop Nightmare from breaking through and with the eluvian in the Undercroft destroyed, we’ve got some breathing room," Vic said before getting more wine. 

Aeolus blinked, then looked back at Arden. “Nightmare? You mean that demon thing that nearly killed you just before you took that tumble out somewhere that bastard Sebastian could catch you - the one you told us about?”

“The same,” nodded Arden. He glanced to Invictus. “Hal and I spent some time up in Rivain not long after you’d all moved to Nevarra,” he explained. “There was quite a lot of backstory to catch up on. I still have a few gaps in my memory here and there, but that part I remember very clearly.”

As they ate, Arden and Hal took it in turns to repeat the whole story about Nightmare, the Eluvians, the other dead Hawke and the recent events involving demons. As they finished, Aeolus pushed his empty plate back and poured himself another glass of wine then gave a long, low whistle.

“That’s quite the story,” he said slowly. He glanced across to Pin. “And you did exactly the right thing by calling me,” he added. “Absolutely I will help you, and I’m sure Isabela will too. You’ll need me to go fetch Cullen and Cassandra then, I take it? Varric as well?”

“If he can get away from his duties as Viscount, we could use his help," Vic agreed. He pushed away from the table to get Fenris’ half finished plate and head off for a hot bath. “Let’s convene over breakfast tomorrow to give everyone a break and a chance to sleep or get their head right.” 

“I’ve got to check in with Krem but I’ll be there tomorrow morning Invictus," Callus said with a glance to his family. “I’ll come by and see you later father, if you want.” 

“I’ll get back to the ship; I should be in time to help Isabela bring her into port,” said Aeolus. “With luck we should both be able to be here tomorrow for breakfast. I may even have Varric in tow for you.” He rose to his feet and glanced over to Fenris. “I hope you’ve got your head straight by then, Leto,” he added. “Or would you prefer I return this evening, and we can talk?”

“Do what you want brother, it makes no difference if I flee or remain silent you’ll have your say," Fenris said dully. 

Aeolus frowned, and then he stalked towards Fenris. Before the white-haired elf had a chance to react, he hauled him to his feet and glared at him, his face inches away from that of Fenris.

“Very well,” he said softly. “We do this now.”

Suddenly they were both gone.

Anders pushed his chair back and leapt to his feet. “Maker, where -” He turned and exchanged looks with Invictus, who was equally startled and bewildered.

***  
Fenris blinked, and suddenly he and Aeolus were alone in a dark room. His brother’s lyrium lit up in a soft silver light, and as Fenris glanced around he realised they were in his old rooms. They had been stripped, nothing but bare stone walls and floor, all furniture gone.

“Talk,” said Aeolus tersely.

The younger elf folded his arms and glared at his brother. “No, you will not force me to talk at your whim. I’m going back to bed and you can go home," Fenris snarled. 

He tried to activate his lyrium but nothing happened. He stared at his brother, eyes widening in alarm.

“You may go when I say you can,” said Aeolus softly. “Yes, Leto, I’m stopping you. My lyrium is the same as yours. It’s a living thing, and when we are this close? There is nothing you can do with it that I cannot stop. How else do you think I was able to teleport directly behind you like that?” He smiled faintly. “Of course, you are stronger than I, and I cannot physically hold you here. But unless you knock me out or find some other way to restrain me, then you cannot stop me bringing you back here. I think it’s time we talked, Leto.”

“I don’t think it is, and you bullying me into it isn’t going to make me want to talk to you either," Fenris snapped as he prowled around the room, even trying the door and snarling when he found it locked from the outside. He refused to sit still so Aeolus could force him to talk. 

Aeolus folded his arms, the smile gone. “So we’re back to this again,” he said quietly. “You will not talk to your own brother. How many times must we have this out between us, Leto?”

“No, I will not talk when you or anyone else tries to force my hand _brother_ ” Fenris said as he continued to pace. “It’s not like you give a damn anyway. You’re taking far too much pleasure in dropping in when called to get me right. Well I can do this without your interference or shaming.” the younger elf tried to use his markings and failed again, which just irritated him further.

“Pleasure?” said Aeolus. “No, Leto, I take no pleasure in this. I care for you, and it hurts that you refuse to confide in me. Why must it always be others who call me for your sake? We have this out so often - when will you understand that I am here for you because I’m worried for you?”

“I don’t need people shaming me into talking Aeolus. I just wanted to sit there quietly while they had breakfast. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t in the mood to talk the day after I nearly killed Zevran and found out a demon had been preying on my mind for who knows how long? I didn’t need my own damn child running to you to make me talk when I wasn’t ready to.” Fenris kicked the door as he went by in frustration.

“How am I supposed to be trusted to fight for them? I couldn’t even tell when a demon had me nearly so mad I tried to kill my husband. Why is it no one lets me have a moment of peace? We grew up in Tevinter, we know too well what its like to be surrounded by blood magic and evil, yet I couldn’t resist giving in to my own anger. I ...I’m tired and I’m scared and I just wanted time to myself after breakfast.” Fenris finally sank to the ground, covering his face as he wept.

Aeolus watched him silently for a while, then sat down on the floor beside Fenris and gently held him.

“Leto,” he said softly. “Do you trust Anders?”

Fenris pulled away, not wanting to be touched. “With my life," he replied. 

“And how do you think he felt when he realised he had been possessed by a demon and hurt you?” Aeolus went on as he lowered his arms, staring at his brother. “Don’t you think he mistrusts himself just as you do? Didn’t he lock himself away and make himself sick?” He regarded Fenris sadly. “And didn’t you try to reassure him it wasn’t his fault?”

“He wasn’t raised in the Imperium, and he’s vulnerable with his heart. I am not, I should have known the signs and yet I carried that evil in me for who knows how long? What if I’d hurt Pin or Callus, or Ellowynne? As it is, I nearly killed Zevran, and he fled from me in terror when I was out of my mind. All I wanted was some time, so I could be ready for the fight to come.” Fenris put his head down and hoped his brother would let him go. 

Aeolus sighed. “Brother... when you finally confronted Anders... how long did it take him before he could look you in the eye, after what he’d done?”

“I… don’t remember," Fenris said for he truly didn’t recall it. “Please let me out, I ...don’t do well being locked in.” 

Aeolus glanced at the door. “Neither of us do,” he mused, very quietly. “Do you think I enjoy this? I truly don’t. I just wish you would talk to me.”

“I wish you’d let me alone, I don’t want to talk right now," Fenris said. “Please let me out and I’ll talk to you later, I swear," he added. 

Aeolus smiled at him sadly. “Will you? Or is this just your way of getting me to let you go?”

Fenris started to cry out of frustration and anxiety being held against his will. “Please let me go," he begged. 

Aeolus sighed, and dropped his gaze to the ground. Then very subtly, Fenris felt his lyrium start to flow, as it lit up with the same silvery light as Aeolus’ lyrium.

“Then go,” his brother said sadly.

The younger elf left in a blaze of light and went straight to the room they were sharing, seeking out Anders and Zevran if they would let him be with them. “Can...I join you please?” he asked shakily. 

Anders rolled over in the bed and opened his eyes blearily. “Fen?” he murmured. “Is that you?” Beside him, Zevran was sitting up and looking around, blinking his eyes; it appeared both men had been sleeping. After a moment, Zevran gestured to the bed and nodded, then lay back against the pillows again.

Fenris pulled off his tunic and crawled into bed between them, hesitantly reaching out to Zevran so he could hold him. “May I please touch you _carissimi_?” he asked quietly.

The Antivan regarded him silently, his eyes almost blank and giving nothing away of whatever he was feeling inside; after a moment, he nodded.

“Thank you," Fenris said before he gathered Zevran to his chest and fell silent. He made sure the other elf could get away from him if he wanted but he hoped that they could nap together for a while. He could feel Zevran’s body tense; the Antivan held still, but after a while Fenris could feel Zevran start to slowly relax and then grow heavier, until his breathing evened out.

“I think he’s asleep,” Anders said very softly. He was lying on his side, watching them both. He still looked ill, dark hollows under his eyes, but there was a faintly hopeful look in his eyes as he stared at Zevran.

“I’m so sorry," Fenris said quietly as he brushed blond hair from the other elf’s face as he watched him. “Forgive me one day Zevran, I beg you.” 

Zevran’s eyes flickered half open then slowly drifted closed again.

Anders gave a very quiet sigh as he watched Zevran then glanced up at Fenris. “Just give him time, love,” he said gently. “I think he’s forgiven you - but I know it will mean more to you when you can hear him say so himself.”

“I made him afraid of me again," Fenris said softly before he twisted to look at Anders. “I am sorry for all I’ve done to you.” 

Anders blinked. “To me?” he echoed, startled. After a moment, he glanced away. “You’re referring to yesterday... the rings?”

“And this morning, being so petulant that Pin called her uncle on me," Fenris said before he flopped back to his side. “I don’t deserve any of you in my life," he said more to himself than to the mage. 

Anders lifted his bandaged left arm with a slight wince, and splayed out his fingers to look at his rings before counting each one. “Hmm. Vic, Zevran, you... oh look, I’m wearing your ring. Looks like you’re stuck with me then.” He turned his head to grin at Fenris. “Till death do us part, love.”

“It was nearly death for Zevran," Fenris said before glancing down at his own rings. “He didn’t want to wear my ring anymore, I was abusing him. That’s what I meant by not deserving.” 

Anders let his arm drop. “Oh,” he said in a small voice. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “The problem with Zev is that he never shows where his limits are until he’s gone past them,” he went on after a little while. “Physical _or_ emotional. He hides everything with that smile of his and the whole easy-going facade, but underneath you can’t always tell what’s going on until suddenly he can’t do it anymore. And I guess he just finally hit that limit. You weren’t in your right mind and that scared him.”

“Let us not speak of him as if he’s not here, right next to us. After all, I know I hate it," Fenris said before he turned over to hold Anders. 

“He can’t tell us himself,” replied Anders with a small shrug. “And I probably know him better than any of you; I’ve known him for longer, after all, and there’s something about living with the Wardens that means you all end up knowing each other pretty bloody thoroughly. He knew all about my problems with small dark places, and... well, I got to see myself what happens when he hit his limits a couple of times down there. And whilst you hate it, I don’t think it’s the same for him. Until he can tell you himself, anyway.” He shifted slightly, rubbing his left arm through the bandages slowly.

“I wish to give him no more reason to distrust me than I have already done. I am already afraid that I have broken his trust beyond repair. May I just rest with both of you, in case he sends me away when he wakes up?” Fenris asked as if he was frightened of both of them. 

Anders sighed. “Fenris, if he was going to send you away then he would have done it when you came in,” he pointed out. “He certainly wouldn’t have let you snuggle up to him and then fallen asleep on you like that!”

“Alright Anders," Fenris said before trying to get comfortable and resting. He doubted he was going to sleep again, but he would take being allowed to rest with them until dinner. 

After a little while, Anders rolled back over onto his side towards Fenris again, then slowly inched closer until he was half-curled up, his face nuzzling against Fenris’ chest, his eyes closed. Presently he began to snore quietly.

The warrior closed his eyes, dozing between two of his husbands, almost sleeping deeply until he felt Zevran twitch against him. He opened his eyes as Zevran jerked again, and then the Antivan suddenly threw out an arm as his leg kicked hard against Fenris and he began to pant, his breath coming in frightened gasps.

Fenris turned and tried to get Zevran to wake up. “ _Carissimi_ its a dream, a bad dream, wake up," he said in the other elf’s ear. 

Zevran jerked his head away from Fenris and flinched. “No!” he managed to gasp out hoarsely, one hand clutching at his throat. “Don’t - please -”

“Wake up!” Fenris said as he tried to keep Zevran from falling out of the bed but not grabbing at him while he was half awake. 

Zevran’s eyes flew open and he stilled, staring up at the ceiling as his chest heaved, panting. His eyes were bewildered as he slowly began to glance around until his eyes fell on Fenris. “A - a dream,” he rasped, then coughed, clutching at his throat again.

“A bad one I take it _carissimi_?” Fenris asked as he dropped his hands, unsure if Zevran wanted to be touched. Zevran nodded, closing his eyes briefly.

“Water... please,” he whispered.

Fenris got the pitcher as well as cups for both of them. He waited on Zevran, offering to refill the other elf’s cup as he watched him. “Do you need anything else?” 

He was aware of Anders stirring groggily, lifting his head to look around blearily. “Huh? Zev?”

Zevran shook his head as he sat up; he dropped his head to his hands for a moment and was still. Then he swung his legs out of the bed and got up, walking slowly over towards the window.

“He had a nightmare, probably wasn’t good to wake up and see me next to him," Fenris said as he sat against the headboard and cuddled a pillow.

“Oh,” said Anders as he rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Yeah, I should have warned you. Happened several times last night. I think I have a couple of bruises on my shin where he kicked me.” he glanced over at Zevran; the elf was leaning against the window frame, the moonlight playing over his bare skin as he stared out at the mountains.

“I’ll leave if that will help him sleep. The other bed is still made up," Fenris said with a sad look to Anders and then to Zevran. 

The Antivan turned and made a vehement movement with his hands, and then to Fenris’ surprise he began signing in the slaves’ hand-sign known throughout Tevinter.

_No. You stay. Do not leave._

_I hurt you. Are you not afraid?_ Fenris signed back. 

Zevran glanced away for a moment, then his hands flashed again. _Afraid. Not of you._

“What’s going on?” asked Anders, bewildered, glancing between them.

 _Scared of hurting all of you, failed you,_ Fenris motioned as he focused on Zevran. 

_Then so did he._ Zevran darted a meaningful look at Anders, who blinked at him uncomprehendingly. _I do not fear him. He, you, same._

 _Don’t understand, nearly killed you!_ Fenris signed in frustration. 

Zevran pointed at Anders, then his hands flashed again. _He too. Demon._ He gestured to his throat briefly. _Held. Tried to kill. Demon hungry. First you. Me next._

“Wait,” said Anders, his eyes widening as he stared at Zevran’s hands. “Are you... are you talking? With your hands? Both of you?”

 _Yes,_ Fenris signed before he realized what he’d done. “Yes, we’re signing,” he said before turning back to Zevran. 

_Should have known, already fear of me before,_ Fenris went on. Zevran’s eyes widened slightly, and then he hung his head.

 _Afraid of unknown_ Zevran signed slowly. He seemed to be hunting for the right words in the limited vocabulary of the slave sign language; it had never been designed for lengthy, complicated conversations, only hasty and subtle communication under the noses of the slaves’ masters. Zevran frowned in thought and his fingers flashed a few signs that Fenris didn’t recognise before he looked up at the other elf, and then he slumped when he realised Fenris didn’t recognise them. He began signing again, slowly, once again hunting for the right words. _Demon in you. Was afraid. Demon hurt, not you. Demon hurt me._ He made the sign that indicated “could/maybe/possibly” and uncertainty. _You very strong. Demon use strength, hurt me. Not want hurt you._

 _I’m dangerous, before demon, before …_ Fenris halted as he tried to find the word for goddess or Mythal and realized he’d never learned one. _Before temple, afraid of self, afraid I hurt love,_ he continued. 

“Love,” said Anders quietly. “Is there a reason why you’re not talking aloud? I mean, I know Zevran can’t, but....” He stared at Fenris, a wistfully sad look in his eyes. “Do you... would you like me to leave you two alone to talk?”

“No, just easier to sign back and I struggle with remembering them even with Callus teaching me again. Switching back and forth is too hard for me, especially when I’m tired," Fenris said as he looked back at Anders then to Zevran. _I talk, you write, ok?_

Zevran slumped slightly. _Fingers faster. Writing slow,_ he signed back. He lifted his head to look at Fenris, then slowly signed, _still love you._

“I still love you, and I’m so sorry," Fenris said as he looked up to Zevran. “Can I please call you my _carissimi_ again?” 

Zevran stared at him, and his lips parted as his eyes widened slightly. _You want that?_ his hands signed.

Fenris went over and fell to his knees before the shorter elf. He threw his arms around Zevran and asked again, telling him yes, please he never stopped wanting that from him. He swore his love for him in Tevene, and Antivan as he buried his face against the other elf's’ chest.

Zevran gasped, shocked, then cradled Fenris’ face in his hands as he stared down at him. “Don’t... beg,” he managed hoarsely, the effort visibly painful. “ _Car...carissimi_.”

Fenris stared up at him for a moment before he hugged him close and thanked Zevran, still on his knees as he felt tears fall. 

“Zevran... don’t try to talk,” said Anders gently as he approached them both. “Though... Maker knows, it must be hard right now.”

“Don’t speak, just allow me to stay like this for a while please my heart," Fenris said quietly. 

Zevran bent down and kissed Fenris’ forehead, then his nose, before finally tentatively kissing him lightly on the lips.

“I’m... just... I’ll leave you two alone for a bit, I’ll... be in the other room,” said Anders as he backed away. “Uh, Fenris, just... call if you need me, alright?”

“You don’t need to go, unless Zevran wants to be alone with me, if he’ll allow me to be with him," Fenris said quietly. 

Zevran lifted his hands where Fenris could see them and signed swiftly, _can stay alone. Or he can stay. Am happy both, you happy?_

“You’re letting me stay, so yes I’m happy," Fenris said as he closed his eyes and hugged the other elf, not thinking about how he was getting poked in the chest by a very interested part of his husband. 

“Uh... was that a yes? A no?” asked Anders as he hovered uncertainly. “Look - it’s OK, if Zevran’s comfortable with just the two of you then I can go sleep with Vic, it’s no trouble!”

Zevran wrapped his arms around Fenris’ shoulders and bent over the other elf, chuckling almost silently. “ _Carissimi_ ,” he whispered very faintly, barely breathing the words into Fenris’ ear. “Do you wish him to stay? Shall we have pity on him?”

“He can stay, you both can do whatever you want to me as long as you let me stay," Fenris said. 

Zevran lifted his head and beckoned to Anders, who hesitated then came back over to them.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t want to be in the -”

Zevran reached up, grabbed a handful of Anders’ hair and dragged him down until Anders’ head was at the same height as his. “Shut up,” he rasped, then kissed Anders soundly.

Fenris edged out of the way so they could kiss but he remained on his knees, fine with waiting for either Anders or Zevran to do something to him. 

Anders’ eyes had drifted closed; as he and Zevran kissed, he lifted a hand to rest it on Zevran’s shoulder. He pulled away long enough to draw breath.

“Let me heal your throat,” he murmured.

Zevran nodded, but tensed and went rigid as Anders pressed his hand lightly against his throat; he made a faint whimper in the back of his throat which he almost instantly stifled, but not before Anders had snatched his hand away.

“Maker, I am so, so sorry, Zev!” he exclaimed. “I am an idiot! What was I thinking?” He rested his hand instead on Zevran’s shoulder again, and the Antivan drew a slow, shuddering breath then nodded. Anders drew on his magic and a silvery-blue glow lit up around his hand as Zevran’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed softly.

Fenris sat back on his heels, taking one of Zevran’s hands, kissing the palm and resting the other elf’s hand on top of his head, trying to encourage him to grab his hair or touch him. Absently, Zevran began to stroke his fingers through Fenris’ hair.

After a while, Anders lifted his hand away. “There’s still inflammation that’ll take a while to go,” he said quietly. “But I hope I’ve made you a little more comfortable. Try not to talk though, alright? Your trachea was badly bruised.”

Zevran opened his eyes and smiled, mouthing _thank you, love_ to him. Anders smiled in return.

“You are entirely welcome, my love,” replied the mage.

Belatedly, Zevran noticed Fenris was still on his knees in front of him; his fingers flashed a swift query. _Are you alright?_

“You let me stay, so I’m fine. I meant what I said, you both can do what you like to me," Fenris replied before dropping his gaze. 

Anders blinked. “Maker, isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he quipped as he tried to laugh.

Fenris looked to Anders and gave him a faint smile. “May I use it?” he asked quietly. 

“That... depends why you’re using it,” said Anders slowly. He slowly moved to the bed and sat down. “I mean... if it’s because you just feel good and you want us to help you feel good, then yeah - it’s alright, but... Fenris, when I use it? I’m usually not in a particularly good place. And when Hal uses it - Arden’s told me that’s when Hal’s zoning out and you have to be really careful with him, because he’ll likely just acquiesce to whatever you do to him and you have to read him really carefully. So... I guess I need to know why you’re saying it.”

The elf looked down, knowing if he answered truthfully they may not do what he wanted. “Can’t we just...have a good time?” Fenris asked with a bare glance to his human husband. 

“Not if you’re hoping to be punished, Fen,” said Anders softly. “Is this what this is about? You want to submit to Zevran so he can do to you what you think you really deserve?” His voice dropped lower. “Is that really fair to him? Or me? Isn’t that exactly what Invictus used to do with you?” He arched an eyebrow, then slipped into Tevene as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands. “ _Yes, ser, amatus,_ ” he whispered. “ _Remember? Is that what you want?_ ”

Fenris reluctantly looked up to Anders, his eyes bright as he shook his head no. “I just...why can’t you let us just have fun tonight? I rarely submit, can’t I just want that?” he asked quietly. 

Anders smiled sadly. “Do you remember how you felt when I told you what Invictus admitted to me?” he asked. “Do you really want to make us do that, love? Because if you really need it, I will, but please don’t do that to Zevran. And I should warn you, I’m really not feeling too great either. So if you need this, I’ll do it - but Maker, I’m probably going to be wiped out afterwards. And I’d far rather just cuddle and actually _sleep_ with you.”

Fenris glanced around at Zevran, and found the Antivan was staring between him and Anders, looking slightly bewildered yet confused.

 _What this? Not understand. You want pain? Clarify?_ his fingers signed.

“Anders...he …” Fenris’ voice faltered as he tried to explain himself but fell quiet for a moment, then his fingers danced in slave sign. _Want pain, he thinks I want for bad reason._

Zevran stared down at Fenris, then he slowly signed. _He right? Or wrong?_

“He’s right,” said Fenris softly, then dropped his gaze.

He was aware of Zevran pulling away then pacing. His footsteps were near silent as he paced barefoot, back and forth, and then he returned to Fenris and placed his fingertips beneath Fenris’ chin, tipping his head up to look at him.

 _Not do this. Love you. Sleep. Talk tomorrow. Please?_ he signed.

“But…” Fenris said with a longing look to them. After a few moments, he got to his feet and went to sit on the edge of the bed, head in hands. He felt Anders slip a hand around his waist, then Anders rested his head on Fenris’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “But you know it would be wrong.” Behind him, he could feel by the movement of the mattress that Zevran was climbing back on the bed; then his hand came to rest lightly on his other shoulder.

“I can’t,” he heard, very soft, the other elf merely breathing the words aloud. “Forgive me, _carissimi_. I can’t.”

Fenris shrugged and rose to get himself a glass of wine, hopefully to settle his mind so he could sleep. He was too unsettled and he refused to lash out at them over realizing what he’d wanted. He knew Anders was right, and he had nothing to say in argument. 

As he glanced back at the bed, he saw that Zevran was lying in the bed, his eyes glittering in the near-dark as he watched him. Anders had curled up on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed and his face pale in the faint moonlight, and he realised how sick the other man must be feeling.

Fenris finished off the wine and crawled into bed between them, settling on his stomach, and pulling a pillow over his head so they wouldn’t hear him crying himself to sleep. He felt Zevran pressing himself against his back, and Anders had dropped swiftly into sleep, snoring softly.

Invictus came in later to find there was little room for him, so he took one of the couches and fell asleep far faster than his spouses, unaware of how unhappy everyone had been before turning in. 

**

The next morning, as Fenris slowly drifted awake he became aware that Anders was radiating far more heat than normal. The mage was still curled on the edge of the bed, his face turned into the pillow, one hand draping over the edge of the bed and one bare leg sticking out from beneath the covers. Invictus was slowly stirring on one of the couches, and Zevran was still dead to the world on the other side of him.

“Anders, you’re warm,” Fenris said as he sat up and touched the back of the mage’s neck. “You’re too warm.” he looked over to see Invictus sitting up. 

“He’s too warm, a fever I think.” 

Anders’ snored stopped for a moment and Anders made a vague, questioning noise before he turned his face away from the light filtering in through the gap in the curtains; presently he began to snore softly again, the sound muffled by the pillow.

“Go get a cold cloth and I’ll check him over," Vic said as he approached the other mage. He called up a blue glow to check over his husband. “Love can you hear me?”

Anders grunted, then shifted his head slightly and opened his eyes slightly. “Whuh... Vic?” He groaned softly. As Invictus sank his senses slowly into the other mage, he realised his immune system was going into overdrive. He frowned. Pin had given him a dose of his medicine at lunchtime the previous day, but they’d all missed breakfast - and he didn’t recall Anders taking it at dinner. He could feel his cortisol levels were raised as he mentally gave thanks to all the lessons Anders had diligently drilled into him over the years. Something must have stressed the other mage, but he was at a loss to think what. To his surprise however, Anders’ heart beat strongly - stronger than he had felt it beat in years, since before his death in Orlais.

Fenris padded over with a basin of cold water and flannels for Anders. “Do you need me to get someone from the infirmary?” 

Anders shook his head. “No... just need rest,” he slurred. “Told you I didn’t feel well.”

“I’m sorry," Fenris said quietly, unsure what he should do. 

“Easy love, easy. Let me help you a bit and then we’re going to wipe you down with a cool cloth and you’ll feel a little better," Vic said as he nodded to the elf. “I’ve got him Fen, maybe get a bath and we can go get breakfast?” 

“Ok Vic," Fenris replied as he set the basin down and hurried off to their bathing chamber.

Vic sighed as he watched the elf shuffle away then looked back to their husband. “I don’t know what happened but I really hope we can have a better day today," he said to himself. 

Anders groaned. “About that...” he murmured as he rolled slowly over to face Invictus. “Love, do you remember when you shared with me how you used Fenris to punish yourself for being born a mage?” As Invictus’ face fell, he reached his hand out to lay it over Invictus’ hand. “Hey... it’s OK. That’s the past, love. But I think you should know... he and Zevran talked last night - this weird sign language I could barely even make out... but I think he was trying to do that. He wanted us to use him, and I think he was looking for punishment.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense!” Vic said. 

Anders shook his head. “He feels guilty over what he did to Zevran, but I couldn’t let him do that to Zevran. Zev woke up with a nightmare.”

“Maker, no," Vic said as he stared at Anders. “I’ll try and talk to him over breakfast, I’m so sorry love.” 

Anders reached out and laid his hand over Invictus’ hand. “Love... this isn’t something you need to apologise for. He’s feeling guilty over what happened to Zevran. It was late, we were all tired, and it just came out - his guilt, everything else. Don’t think this is something you need to fix; it’s something Fenris needs to work through.” He turned his face into the pillow. “Maker. I feel so rough. I think I need to sleep for about a thousand years.”

“I can’t let him just spiral like that, especially if he comes to you both like that when you’re already hurting. Go back to sleep, I’ll check on you both for lunch.” Vic kissed his forehead as he rose to drain the basin and wait on their husband.

Anders pulled the covers up over his shoulder and buried his face in the pillows with a low sigh as he closed his eyes. Behind him, restless, Zevran shifted over onto his side and murmured something inaudible before opening his eyes slowly. He smiled dreamily at Invictus before snuggling up to Anders.

***

Arden started awake suddenly, eyes flying open as he inhaled sharply with a soft gasp. For a moment he didn’t know where he was; the room was dark, save for a faint gleam of torchlight that shone beneath the door and a thin shaft of moonlight that fell across the bed. The nightmare had been so real and vivid, so many memories crowding in - the knife in his guts, his back aflame, the terrible burning agony as Invictus sent lightning bolt after lightning bolt through his body, Sebastian laughing as maggots crawled out of the empty sockets where his eyes had been. As he lay there, he felt the soft bed beneath him and heard Hal stirring sleepily beside him, and slowly he remembered where he was.

“Arden?” murmured Hal drowsily. “Was it another dream?”

“I’m fine,” lied Arden. “You should go back to sleep.”

Hal must have heard something in his voice; the redhead was sitting up, and Arden felt a brief pull of magic as Hal gestured and the candles flickered into life. Hal was staring down at him, worried.

“Arden, what’s wrong? Talk to me - you _know_ you can tell me anything... right?”

Arden lay there for a moment then abruptly rose from the bed and began pacing.

“Arden?”

“The dreams. They’re as bad as ever they were, but... different,” Arden said, gesturing. He was aware Hal was watching him but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the other mage.

“Different? How?” asked Hal.

“It’s all overlaid - everything,” said Arden. “Sebastian. Invictus. Callus, sometimes. Memories of what they all did to me... sometimes at the end, I dream of you coming for me as I lay there dying on the Conclave floor. Mostly I wake as I’m dying, or halfway through -” He broke off, unwilling to describe his nightmare to Hal.

“I - I thought... I thought Anders -” Hal began.

Arden couldn’t stop the harsh laugh that burst out of him. “Yes, let’s talk of Anders, shall we?” He turned and stared at Hal, whose eyes widened.

“Arden? Arden, what’s wrong?” he asked softly. “You seem angry.”

“Do I?” exclaimed Arden as he stalked towards the bed. “Why would that be, I wonder? After all, what have I to be angry about? I was only tortured near to death by Invictus when Fenris had dragged me back from a failed attempt to put an end to my wretched existence and save you all further pain!” he snapped. “And why? Because bloody _Fenris_ can’t handle watching someone who might be in worse mental pain than him! The man’s a fucking brat - but for that, Invictus _fucking_ Hawke takes it upon himself to torture me!” His voice was low, the final words spoken with a mixture of anger and anguish. He dropped down to sit upon the end of the bed and stared at Hal.

“Did I really deserve that?” he whispered. “Have you any idea what it’s like for me to sit and eat with a man who did that to me? To just... let it go?”

Hal was staring at him with horrified eyes. “Arden, you’ve never breathed a word!” he whispered. “Never a sign! Has this been eating you all this time, even after Anders healed you?”

“Maker’s sakes, Hal - what Anders did for me only healed physical harm, it never did anything for how I feel inside!” said Arden in anguish. “It never took away the dreams, or the memories of what’s been done to me! It only gave me another thing to dream of - that healing was agony, and to be bound and gagged...!”

He buried his face in his hands and drew a slow, shuddering breath. “Look what you’ve all done to me,” he said softly. “I can’t have peace. I’ll never be rid of these dreams. All I can do is just try and... and function as best I can, because we have to deal with this Nightmare.” He laughed hollowly. “It’s a fucking joke, isn’t it?” he said as he lifted his head. “I’m plagued by nightmares, and I’ll probably be killed by one.”

“Arden... you can’t carry on letting this fester inside you!” said Hal as he moved closer. “You’re not going to die - and you can’t carry this inside you when you face Nightmare.”

“Hal, what else can I do?” sighed Arden as he shook his head. “Get angry in front of them? What’s the point? Fenris will just shut himself off again, Invictus never even said sorry for what he did, Zevran resents me for having damned near crippled him and Anders? I don’t think he’d ever understand. He thought he was helping me, even if he had a brutal way of showing it.” He eyed Hal with a briefly blank look. “And you....”

“Me?” said Hal, startled, and then he bit his lip. “Yes... it was my fault, wasn’t it?” he whispered. “I should have told you about Fenris long ago. But at first Belann and I were trapped here - and then they told me you’d died at Adamant. I had no-one except Fenris. And I know it was wrong not to tell you, but... by then it had been years. But I should have told you. And what happened with Zevran... yes, that was my fault too,” he breathed.

Arden regarded him tiredly, and then gave him a sad smile. “Thank you for admitting that,” he said softly. “It’s been eating me up inside, the way I never heard any of it from your own lips.”

“I’m so sorry, Arden,” whispered Hal. Arden held out an arm, and Hal curled up against him as he sniffed, fighting back tears.

“It’s alright,” said Arden softly. “I forgive you. I never could stay angry - not at you; and you’re all I have left in this world, Hal.”

Hal swallowed hard. “Th-thank you,” he breathed. “That’s more than I deserve, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He was silent for a while, then looked up at Arden. “What... what will you do now? Will you... tell them?”

“There’s no point,” said Arden wearily. “They don’t know. What good would it do? Do you honestly think any of them would ever apologise to me?” He laughed, hollowly. “And after I saved all their bloody lives at Adamant, too. There’s gratitude for you!” He shook his head and sighed. 

“No. I’ll say nothing. We need to defeat Nightmare. For that, we need to be able to work together and trust each other. I’ll keep my silence, smile, hide it - it’s what I’ve been doing, after all. They need never know. If I survive Adamant a second time... well. We’ll see.” He shrugged. “I’ll play meek and mild, nod, smile, and they’ll never know.”

“Arden... you know I love you... right?” said Hal tentatively. Arden smiled sadly and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“And I still love you,” he replied. “Come on. It’s late. We should try to get some sleep for what remains of the night.”

They crawled back into bed, and then Arden extinguished the candles with a wave of his hand. He felt Hal snuggle up against him; eventually he fell asleep.

Hal remained awake, staring into the darkness as he felt Arden’s heart beating slow and steady beneath his cheek, and found sleep did not come so easily as he pondered all that Arden had said.

 

***

 

Fenris had become quiet over the last few days. He hadn’t quite withdrawn but he wasn’t really talkative with them. He took meals with everyone but didn’t join the conversation unless someone asked him a direct question. Invictus was frustrated because every time he tried to get the elf to just talk with him, he wound up more aggravated than when he started. It didn’t help when Aeolus showed up, and Fenris became even quieter. 

Vic pulled him into their room, so they could talk away from the others because he was worried for his love. “Hey, you’ve been really quiet and I noticed how you looked when your brother showed up. I thought I was the one who was supposed to run from their sibling?” he tried to smile but the warrior just turned away.

“I am ashamed Invictus. My brother...sees through me and I hate it. I’ve never liked it when any of you cut to the core of my bullshit. Without the demon’s influence I’ve been thinking clearly for the first time in a while and I’m scared. I can’t find it in myself to confide in my only brother and I know it bothers him. I just don’t know how to talk to him, I feel so stupid around him.” Fenris pulled away to pace around their room, hating himself.

“Aeolus loves you, he’s your brother for Dumat’s sake. Even though you wanted to kill him when you met him. Remember, you wanted us to strike him down? After that he still claims you as blood, though I wouldn’t. Just go and fucking talk to him. Do you know what I would do to talk to Carver whenever I wanted? He’s my brother, and I barely get to see him, yet yours is a moment away thanks to your powers and you don’t take advantage," Vic said in frustration. 

“I just feel like a failure compared to him Vic. He’s confident, happy with Isabela and he’s learned so much about his...our powers and I just feel so damn stupid.” Fenris finally sat on their bed and sighed. “I’m still rattled knowing a demon had such influence over me. I could have killed Zevran yet he trusts me enough to sleep next to me, why?” Fenris ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. 

“You’re still guilty over what happened? Anders has moved forward, somewhat but you are spiraling love and I’m scared. You barely talk to us, you sleep curled as far away from whoever you share a bed with, if you come to bed with us at all. You don’t even want us to touch you. I’ve known you so damn long and this isn’t like you.” Vic sat by him and offered his hand.

The warrior looked down and took his husband’s hand, squeezing gently. “Would you believe me if I said I’m scared too? I nearly died in that fight with Corypheus and Arden made it sound like some of us could die fighting Nightmare. I don’t know if I would welcome death or not, but anything is better than this fear in my heart.” Fenris tried to smile but failed.

“Love, we should talk more and I mean be open with us. Do you really think any of us would judge you for being afraid? Not I, not after what I did to you all. Why don’t I call Aeolus and you two can talk. By talking I mean you listen to what he’s saying and not let your fear get the better of you. You can turn into a dragon, Fen; there is no need to fear him.” Vic kissed him on the cheek and gave him a brief hug before heading out to fetch his brother-in-law.

“Alright Vic, I just hope he’ll hear me," Fenris said as he scooted to the headboard and pulled a pillow into his arms.

“I’m sure he will love, just relax and listen," Vic said as he closed the door, calling for Aeolus. 

“Hey, someone wants to see you in our room," he said as he passed his brother-in-law. 

Aeolus paused. “Oh? Is Arden there? I was just looking for him,” smiled the tattooed elf. “Isabela is a little worried about him, particularly with all this talk about demons and Adamant.”

“No, Fenris wants to talk to you," Vic said, curious about the elf’s reaction. “Arden is down the hall, with Hal. Maybe talk to him after, if you want?” 

“Fenris actually wants to talk?” echoed Aeolus, a wary yet hopeful look in his blue eyes. “That... would be a first. I would find it easier to get blood from a stone than Fenris to talk to me. But yes, I’ll talk.”

Vic raised an eyebrow at the elf but didn’t give in to the urge to lay into him about his brother. “He’s feeling a bit fragile but wants to try Aeolus.”

“Then I’m more than willing to listen,” replied Aeolus. He turned and headed down the hall towards the room Fenris and Invictus had been sharing whilst Anders and Zevran recuperated. He tapped on the door then pushed it open cautiously, his eyes falling upon Fenris and the way he was hunched over defensively, hugging a pillow and regarding him apprehensively. Aeolus gave him a reassuring smile as he entered; he pulled a chair over and sat.

“Hello, Leto,” he said quietly. “Invictus said you’d asked for me.”

“Yes, if you are free I want to… talk," Fenris said as he watched his sibling carefully, like he was going to spring at him or something. 

Aeolus shrugged. “I was looking for Arden, but that can wait,” he replied with an easy smile as he sat back and rested an ankle on his knee. “I always have time for you, Leto; you should know that by now.”

“I owe you an apology, and a confession. I just hope you are not angry with me by the time we are done," Fenris said as he hugged the pillow closer. 

Aeolus frowned slightly. “That depends on why you think I might be angry,” he said slowly. “But go on.”

“I’m sorry for not...being open with you. I confess that I feel very inadequate around you brother. You’re so happy, so confident and you’ve adjusted to freedom better than I ever could. Some of it is ...jealousy. Some of it just my own self-hate but it makes it hard to talk, especially when others pull you in to ...correct me," Fenris admitted. 

Aeolus sighed. “Isabela and I helped each other through a lot of stuff,” he said. “She was adjusting to life away from the Qun and I to being free. It was easy to understand why she loves the sea though; it is hard to feel a prisoner or slave with the open sea around you. The past years, we have been good for each other. But it did not come easy, brother, and I shan’t deny there have been dark times as well. But when others call me for you... they do it out of love, Leto, not to chastise.”

“It doesn't seem that way in the moment. It feels as if I have failed yet again," Fenris admitted before he looked to his brother. “When I'm already in a bad place, having my older brother called on me ...hurts. Being dragged away and you being able to cut off my power was too much. I feel like a failure.” The elf curled up further away from his sibling.

Aeolus sighed. “Leto... I didn’t like to do that. Would it help if I taught you how to do that? I am willing, even though it means I place myself completely in your hands - because I trust you, Leto, and I would not have you feeling powerless around me. The lyrium in our skin is the same, and it has a... connection, through the Fade. If you but close your eyes and listen to it, you will feel it in my body as easily as you do in your own - and if you bend your will to it, then you can control it.” He spread his arms and smiled at Fenris. “Please. Try. I shall not fight you.”

Fenris blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him that the connection ran both ways, but what his brother said made sense. The lyrium in his skin had been ripped bodily from Aeolus, and Anders had already found for himself that lyrium seemed far more than the inert Fade-imbued metal it had always been believed, but instead appeared to be a living entity with a strange, alien intelligence of its own. 

Which meant that the lyrium in his skin was kin to that in his brother’s flesh, tied to it through the Fade - and Dorian had already proven over and over that distance meant nothing through the Fade. 

He stared at his brother in trepidation as Aeolus sat there, arms open wide, his eyes closed as he waited. The thought was, if he admitted it to himself, tantalizing. Closing his eyes, he focused on his own lyrium. 

He could feel it; woven through his flesh, both through the surface and weaving deeper beneath; and as he relaxed and opened himself up to its flow, he found a slow-dawning awareness of it within another body. A body where the lyrium flowed entire... and he drew in his breath sharply. In his mind’s eye, he could see it - regrown through the other half of Aeolus’ body, where it had been so painfully and cruelly ripped from his brother’s flesh to be embedded in his own. The lyrium was truly a living thing; quiescent at present, but he could _feel_ on an innate level its intelligence lying dormant.

To feel was to know. To know was to touch... and from thence to reach out and touch the Fade; almost without thought, letting its power flow through him. He activated his brands with an effort of will, and then _pushed_ to activate those other brands, those within his brother’s flesh.

He heard Aeolus’ breath catch in his throat, and then the other elf made an odd little choking sound. Instantly Fenris let the Fade go, his eyes snapping open to behold Aeolus slumped in the chair, pale, his eyes closed.

“Brother!” exclaimed Fenris, shocked and alarmed as he reached for Aeolus; after a moment, the other elf opened his eyes and managed a weak smile of reassurance.

“It’s alright, I... I’m sorry, I think I just instinctively resisted. I’ll be alright in a moment, that...” He pushed himself upright then bent forward, dropping his head into his hands. “Dumat. Mythal’s gift is so strong within you. I wasn’t prepared....” He looked up at Fenris, his blue eyes wide and half-disbelieving. “It was... like being touched by Mythal himself,” he breathed, awestruck.

“Thinking I have that much power unsettles me, especially with my mind so unsettled," Fenris said as he sat back and stared at his brother. “Are you truly alright?”

Aeolus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll be alright; just... I need a moment. Mythal. This... Leto, I... I cannot begin to describe how it feels, such power touching me....”

“I don’t like this," Fenris repeated quietly as he curled up against the headboard again. “I wish Mythal would take these “gifts” back.” 

His brother opened his eyes and stared at Fenris. “Leto... I think I understand. But you have been touched by one who is almost a Goddess. This is so much more than I could have dreamed when I touched your lyrium and blocked it -” He leaned forward and caught hold of Fenris’ hands. “Brother. I am unharmed. Please... do not be afraid of these gifts. If even half of what you have told me is true, then... Dumat - nay, _Mythal_. Be thankful.”

“I don’t like it! I hate that I grew almost a foot overnight and Zevran fled from me, Anders didn’t recognize me when he looked right at me. I know next to nothing about my powers other than I can change to a dragon, and even that is something I dare not do too long; lest I forget myself," Fenris said fervently.

Aeolus regarded him thoughtfully. “It cannot be easy to be embraced by such a power, my brother. Their gifts cannot come easily. But you are favoured. Cannot you call upon Mythal?”

“I… have prayed but I do not know if He has heard me. I begged for Zevran’s life as he lay broken by Arden’s attack but He is not to be called on every time I have a problem usually of my own making," Fenris said. 

Aeolus snorted slightly. “As I understand it - and as Mythal himself told us - the Creators, the Evanuris, they are no more gods and goddesses than you or I, though perhaps imbued with more power than most mortals. Dorian told me that whilst he was with the Inquisition, Solas - Fen’Harel - was as mortal as anyone else and could certainly bleed. I don’t think prayer will work, Leto; I think perhaps we must find the other Anders, Mythal’s current form.”

Fenris shrugged tiredly. “It may not be worth it, I asked early on if these gifts could be taken back. Her answer at the time was perhaps but it might kill me with all of the changes made. I am used to being unhappy with things done to me, I’ve learned to live with it this long.” He finally set the pillow aside and moved to the edge of the bed with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Would you think me weak if I said I needed to be held?”the warrior asked. 

Aeolus shifted from his chair to the edge of the bed next to Fenris and slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “We have both had much done to us without our consent and regardless of our feelings, brother. It is no weakness to mislike that - merely human.”

“Or maybe merely elven?” Fenris quipped as he leaned into his brothers embrace and fell quiet. Soon he curled closer to his sibling, still silent as he wept. Aeolus gently rubbed his back, silent as Fenris worked through his grief.

Finally Fenris pulled himself back together before sitting up slowly, and Aeolus patted his shoulder.

“Better?” he asked gently.

“Not sure yet, but thank you brother.” Fenris replied as he wiped his face and tried to give his brother a smile. “Forgive me for being such a bad brother? No one really taught me how to not be such a failure," 

“I’m not sure anyone ever is, Leto,” replied Aeolus with a shrug. “We each must find our own way, and doubtless most struggle with it to a certain degree.” He smiled faintly. “Arden often has, and I think you might find Anders is familiar with it also.”

“I meant more as siblings, than in general. You’d think I would be better at this after so long trying to get Vic and Carver to see each other’s views over the years. My husband, though I love him, cannot listen to me when it comes to his own brother.” Fenris said. 

Aeolus chuckled. “It’s always easier to view others with clarity that we lack when looking to our own faults,” he shrugged. “You and I were closer as children, but we were apart for so many years, and when you found me in Tevinter we were strangers. Ours is not exactly a typical sibling relationship, Leto. Your children, though only half-siblings, were at least raised in the same household together and formed a more natural attachment; and look at Pin’s lover, Marian - she and her twin are so close, sometimes they seem almost to think as one," He smiled a little wistfully. “I envy them, sometimes, but it would be too easy to give in to regrets and bitterness over what others had and we were denied. We were far from the only slaves ever separated thus. And as I understand it, the twin’s being together in the Circle was viewed as a rarity - from what Zevran has told me, Invictus had far more cousins than just Solona; she was one of five children born to Revka Amell, all of whom were taken to the Circle, all scattered across Thedas.”

Fenris shrugged as he considered his brother’s words. “I suppose so. I sometimes wonder if being so apart makes it harder for me. You have a life of your own, it's not as if I should impose.” 

“I am sorry, Leto,” Aeolus replied with a shrug. “But you cannot ask me to give up the sea. Like Isabela, I have found peace and freedom there, and healing for she and I both.” He chuckled drily. “And we both know how seasick Anders gets - we can hardly drag your husbands with us were I to suggest you come join us at sea. But still - with our lyrium, there is nowhere either of us can go that the other cannot follow. Distances are nothing through the Fade, and now you know how to feel my lyrium, you will always be able to find me. So this is no imposition, brother.”

“I would not dare ask you to give up the sea, not when I see how happy it makes you. I guess I cannot speak plainly enough today. I meant me, just me visiting with you or joining you on your adventures, but I too get seasick when on a boat for too long.” Fenris gave him a wan smile. “I’m glad for you brother, I just ...wish I could find some measure of happiness again.” 

“Happiness doesn’t come from outside, Leto,” said Aeolus. “It is something one finds within, and each one of us must seek it in our own way. For me, that is the sea and Isabela. For Anders, I think it is family. For Arden, I think in a way it was when he still did not remember who he was; knowledge only brought him pain. He was happier at sea, and I wish Isabela and I could take him back there again. For you? I think it is idleness that chafes you the most. Like Zevran, you do not take leisure too easily; you like to have things to keep you occupied.”

“I know that much at least, that I will not find happiness anywhere out there.” Fenris gestured vaguely where he thought the garden was. “I had a purpose at least when I was working for Meneris. I have no aim now, but I do not know what will make me happy. Anything I would choose probably would take me far from them and it would make them unhappy. I feel...trapped by my life. I miss being a mercenary some days, or just being on my own. Then I feel ungrateful for all I do have, why can’t I be satisfied with them, my children? What’s wrong with me brother?” Fenris said before he got up to wash his face and try to get himself together.

Aeolus rose to his feet. “For now, there is this matter of Nightmare and Adamant to deal with; that should prove purpose enough, I think,” he said. “As for after? We will see. Who knows what fate will have in store for any of us? Arden thinks it likely some of us may die; I do not intend to be one of them, but no man can see the future.”

“I fear that I may be one of those that perish, I have a bad feeling about this battle," Fenris said with a sad look to his brother. “If that happens, please take care of Pin and Callus.” 

“Let’s not borrow trouble before it happens, Leto,” replied Aeolus. “Should that happen then Anders, Invictus, Zevran and I will of course look after them.”

“Thank you brother," Fenris said before approaching and giving his sibling and giving him another hug. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” nodded Aeolus. “You may always ask me anything, Leto.”

“Why do you call me Leto instead of Fenris?” the taller elf asked as he let go. 

Aeolus blinked. “Because... that is your name,” he said slowly. “It is the name I always knew you by, before Danarius wiped out all memory of who I was; and it was the first thing that returned to me when you gave me back my true name.”

“Oh, ok then. I was just curious since no one really calls me that. I used it as my name for Inquisition business, but you’re the only one who still calls me that instead of Fenris," the warrior sat back down and looked up to his sibling. “I’ve kept you long enough brother, you’d said you were looking for Arden when you came in.”

“Yes, he’s been strangely withdrawn and quiet,” nodded Aeolus. “Isabela and I are worried about him. Hal has recovered from destroying that Eluvian, so it cannot be that he is still caring for him.”

“I think that all that’s happened has made him withdraw. Also, he has been forced to spend time with people who hate him, Vic ...tortured him so that cannot be easy. I would not be surprised if he resents us all except Hal," Fenris said before turning and crawling back under the covers. “Will you wake me for dinner? I think I need to get more sleep, and to think on things.” 

Aeolus stared at Fenris. “Invictus... _tortured_ him?” he echoed slowly. His brow creased in a frown and his pale blue eyes glittered dangerously. “After all he suffered at Sebastian’s hands?” He took a step towards Fenris. “Brother. I think you had best tell me the whole story.” His voice had dropped to a low growl.

With a sigh Fenris sat up and recounted the whole wild tale to his brother, scooting back when the elf’s eyes narrowed at him when he got to Callus’ and his parts in the saga. He finished and realized he’d backed up away from Aeolus as far as he could in case he lost his temper. “That’s the story, and things are...strained.” 

Aeolus continued to stare at him, almost unnaturally still. “How... how _dare_ you all treat him thus,” he said, voice far too calm and quiet. “After all he has suffered. After all he has endured. After all he has done for you all. He saved Invictus, Anders and the Inquisitor at Adamant, willingly putting himself in harm’s way that they might live. He took Anders’ place as Grand Enchanter; faced assassination attempts in Tevinter to spare Anders that ordeal. He has worked himself tirelessly and unceasingly to ensure Anders’ reforms of the Circle have been enacted and hunted Fen’Harel far and wide when none of you have. He has lost _everything_ \- his home, his Fenris, even his Anders now; Hal is all he has and yet you all even sought to take _him_ away too.” He took a step towards Fenris. “How _dare_ you,” he hissed.

“He nearly killed Zevran, and Anders nearly died from that," Fenris said as he scrambled off the bed and towards the door, but he knew he was pinned when he felt the way his lyrium refused to answer when he tried to flee. 

“The man was sick and suicidal, and you honestly mean to tell me that Invictus felt it appropriate to torture him in cold blood??” roared Aeolus, fury now blazing in his eyes. “You all wronged him and he lashed out in anger - but Invictus’ act is inexcusable! And you - you _allowed_ it!” He glared at Fenris.

“I will speak with you later, _brother_ ,” he growled; and suddenly he was gone.

Fenris collapsed against the door as he felt his power returning, trembling once his brother had left. He’d felt fear for what the other elf seemed to be ready to do to him. “Fuck….” he muttered.

***

Invictus had no warning. One moment he was walking down the hall towards the room shared by Anders and Zevran; the next, he was suddenly in the dark, the only light thin shafts that shone through chinks in the wooden shutters that covered the windows. It took him a moment to realise he was in the stripped-bare room that was originally Fenris’.

He spun around, eyes wide, as a blazing white light suddenly lit up the room, and Fenris’ brother Aeolus stood there, fury blazing in his glacial blue eyes.

“Invictus Endrin Hawke,” he said, his voice quiet yet full of threat. “How dare you.”

“This is about Arden I take it? Who told you?” Vic asked quietly, sure he was about to meet his end at the hands of his brother-in-law. 

“My brother,” stated Aeolus flatly. “And I shall deal with him in due course. And then Zevran. But first you.”

He stalked slowly towards the mage, lightning dancing flickering over the lyrium brands as they blazed in a display of such raw fury and power that Invictus had ever seen, even blazing out from beneath the black tattoos covering one half of his body.

“Tell me, Invictus. Tell me by what right you cold-bloodedly tortured almost to death the man who saved your life at Adamant. Who was prepared and willing to lay his own life down that you might live. Tell me what act of gratitude this is - for it seems very strange to me that you should repay such an act of willing selflessness by inflicting torture on a man who was already brutally harmed by Sebastian to the point of losing the very knowledge of who he even was.”

Invictus looked him in the eye as he spoke, figuring he was going to die. “He nearly killed Zevran, and that almost took Anders from us. Did Fenris tell you what Arden did to him? Offered to let him fuck him then murder him with a smile. Then stabbed himself when Fenris refused to kill him like that. He sent Fenris back to a very, very dark place with what he did. He was going to abandon Hal to us like an unwanted dog when all he was going to do was help heal Zevran and Anders. I love your brother very much, and I lost myself when I saw what he’d been reduced to. It was wrong, I know it was wrong and once we discovered that a demon had influenced Arden as well, I felt remorse...some but I still felt remorse. Did your brother tell you we offered them a plot of land to build a house so they could have somewhere to live?”

Vic tilted his head back, exposing his throat for Aeolus, but kept eye contact. “Go on then, but you’ll have to pick up the pieces of your brother after the funeral.”

Aeolus abruptly backhanded him hard across the face, sending the mage reeling. “Oh no, Hawke. I’m not going to kill you.” He followed Invictus as the mage stumbled backwards, and shoved him hard, sending him staggering back further. “He was hurt. He had lost his home, his loved ones, and you had all taken Hal too, and he lashed out in momentary rage. But you... you acted in cold blood, Hawke. Torture is not committed in the heat of anger. It is premeditated; it requires thought - and you committed it upon a man who was sick in the mind and suicidal, Hawke. Is that how you deal with a sick man? You think Fenris’ weakness of mind more valuable than that of a man who would have given his life for you?”

Invictus huffed a laugh as he straightened. “In that moment? Yes, the well being of the man I love was far more important. You didn’t know me or your brother for long. We are not good men, and we used to do far worse before we had changes of the heart. I lost myself to rage, as Arden did in his grief over what was done. So in that moment? Yes. Afterward, not so much. Hal gave me the key to his room, told me do what I needed. I admit to doing it. If you would have my blood for it? Then go on, I won’t fight you. Or if you are going to kill me, then do it so they can move on.” he dabbed at his lip, unsurprised to find blood on his fingers. 

Aeolus smiled grimly. “Yes, that would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Then you’d never have to confront what you’ve done or look Arden in the eye again, would you? No, I’m not going to kill you, Invictus Hawke. Though you may yet wish I had.”

He turned away slowly, but then swift as a flash he spun back, one hand lashing out as it blazed brighter with pure white fire, and he phased it into Invictus’ chest.

It was agony; like the fire of the sun itself burning in his chest, his heart stuttering. He could barely breathe for the pain; he tried to scream but no sound would come. It was every bit as bad as it had felt when Fenris had slid his hand into his chest - and yet also somehow so, so much worse. He could feel his magic draining away into nothing, and realised that somehow Aeolus was fuelling his lyrium with it, the pain growing.

Distantly he could hear Aeolus speaking. “This is not even a tenth of what you deserve, Invictus Hawke. I could kill you. But I shan’t. You will remember this pain, and you will not lay a hand on Arden Hawke ever again. You owe that man your life, and you will remember that, too. Whatever aid he requires to destroy Nightmare, you will give him twice over. You will make restitution for what you did to him, and pray he has more forgiveness in his heart than I do.”

Suddenly the pain was gone, and Invictus dropped to his knees with a loud, pained gasp, chest heaving as he clutched his chest, eyes wide as he shook. He felt Aeolus snag his fingers in his hair, and then suddenly his head was wrenched back painfully as Aeolus leaned over him.

“I am going to take you back to my brother now. And next I am going to call upon Zevran.” He smiled grimly. “I shall not hurt him quite as much, I think; after all, his betrayal was far less than yours. I shall then call upon Hal, but I will not hurt him. I do not wish Arden to be further hurt.” He bared his teeth in a snarl. “And my brother shall see me last of all.”

There was a brief flash of light, and Invictus found himself kneeling in his room, Aeolus’ hand still snarled painfully in his hair. Fenris was starting up in alarm, eyes wide as he saw the expression on Invictus’ face before Aeolus thrust him away to sprawl upon the ground.

“Remember,” hissed Aeolus. Then before Fenris could react, Aeolus was gone. 

He ran over to Invictus and pulled him to his lap. “What did he do to you?” he asked as he saw how pale the other mage was, and how pained he looked. 

“He... he... chest, his hand,” Invictus managed to gasp out. “Took my magic... Zev, said he was going to hurt Zev next - Fen, you’ve got to stop him!”

“No he’s not.” Fenris set him down gently before opening his connection to find his brother and go to him. He found him hemming the other elf in much like he had before. “Brother, leave him be. You want a fight? Take it out on me, not him when he can’t even talk. He did nothing to your friend, that was Vic and my crime was keeping him from killing his fool self. So you want to take it out on someone? Here I am.” 

“Maker, what’s going on?” cried Anders as he stared at Aeolus. The red-haired elf had one hand upon Zevran’s throat as the Antivan tried to lean away from him, pinned in his chair, his eyes wide as he stared at Aeolus.

“What’s going on, he says,” remarked Aeolus softly. “Tell me, Zevran. Do you know why I’m here? Perhaps you would like to explain it to your husband?”

Zevran swallowed and winced, then lifted his hands to sign. _Tell him, I meant no harm to friend_. His eyes flicked to Fenris, imploring him silently to be his voice.

“He wants me to translate I think," Fenris said as he approached Aeolus, reaching for his power to cut his brother off if he could. “He did not mean to harm Arden.” 

Zevran continued to sign. _Was wrong. Should not have touched his lover. Regret._

“What is he saying?” asked Anders quietly.

“He was wrong, that he should not have touched Hal, and he regrets it," Fenris said as he tugged against Aeolus’ brands to get him to stand down. He put more effort into it, mostly to keep his brother from killing anyone. 

Aeolus began to laugh as he felt his brands start to flicker and die. “You are a quick study, my brother,” he said softly, his eyes not leaving those of Zevran. “Don’t worry,” he said softly to the Antivan. “I’m not going to kill you.” His fingers tightened slightly and Zevran grunted in pain. “When next you speak aloud, it shall be to Arden, and you are going to apologise to him. Pray he forgives you, Zevran Arainai.”

He released Zevran’s throat and turned away from him to face his brother. “I will speak to you later,” he said quietly, then turned and headed towards the door as Anders flung himself towards Zevran, his hands already glowing blue with healing magic.

“Oh no you don’t fucking walk off from me like this, not after you nearly killed Invictus and hurt Zevran. The same Zevran who forgave Arden, after nearly crippling him, he forgave him. You do not get to act as judge and jury around here Aeolus. You want to fight someone? Then you come at me, not Zevran when he’s healing or Invictus," Fenris snarled as he approached his sibling.

Zevran struggled up out of his chair and crossed the room swiftly to throw himself between Aeolus and Fenris, his hands flashing swiftly as he signed to Fenris. _No. Let him go. Am not badly hurt. Do not fight. Brothers._

Fenris tilted his head to see the new bruises on his throat then back to Aeolus. “No, Invictus was wrong and I know that. Maker do I know that, but if anyone will have retribution from him, it will be Hal and Arden, not my brother. You were nearly killed and I will not watch as he tries to finish what that demon nearly made me start. Get out of the way.” 

Zevran shook his head as he lifted his hands to sign again. _Let him go. For my sake. Please._

Aeolus stared at them both, reading Zevran’s signs as easily as Fenris did, as the Antivan continued.

 _Am not hurt. Sore. Not worse. Let him go. Talk later. Please? No fight. Husband will hurt._ Zevran glanced to Anders, who was staring at all three of them and looking sick.

Fenris closed his eyes, his expression anguished as he fought himself on what to do. Finally he released Aeolus’ power and turned to go. Every step was stiff as he went back to check on Invictus. There was a flash of light from behind him; as he spun around to stare back behind him, he realised that Aeolus was gone.

“What’s going on?” said Anders as he came over to Zevran, worried. “What was all that about Vic - is... is Aeolus trying to punish us all for what we did to Arden?”

Yes, and apparently he damn near killed Vic. That’s where I’ll be whenever he decides to see me," Fenris replied before heading into their room. 

Anders and Zevran exchanged glances, and then followed after.

“Fenris,” Anders called. “Let me check Vic and make sure he’s alright?”

The elf didn’t answer as he went back to his husband, dismayed to find him still laid out on the floor where he’d left him. “I’m sorry Vic, I’ll fix this. I won’t let him hurt you again," Fenris whispered to him.

Anders hurried to Invictus’ side and dropped down to his knees next to him as he reached out with his healing. “Andraste’s tears, what did Aeolus do to him? He’s in shock - it’s like he was in incredible amounts of pain but I can’t find any physical damage....” His voice trailed off. “Void. It’s like he’s been hit by a templar’s Smite. His magic is.... drained.”

Zevran limped in behind them and quietly closed the door before making his way over to them. He stretched a hand out to rest it gently on Fenris’ forearm as he stared down at Anders and Invictus.

Fenris was silent as he held Invictus, he was so very angry with his brother but he was conflicted. He knew that Invictus had done wrong, but it wasn’t up to Aeolus to dish out punishment to them. At the rate he was going, they wouldn’t be able to face off against Nightmare. He decided once Invictus was out of danger, he would seek out Arden. 

Anders let healing flow into Invictus to soothe the residual lingering pain through the other mage’s body; as they watched, colour slowly returned to Invictus’ face and he opened his eyes slowly. 

“Help me get him up onto the bed,” said Anders.

Fenris took Invictus in his arms, settling the mage after Anders had pulled aside covers for him. He remained silent as he watched his husband come around slowly. He just held Vic’s hand and stayed turned away from Anders and Zevran.

Zevran reached out and laid a hand on Fenris’ shoulder; when the other elf didn’t turn or glance at him, he looked to Anders.

“Fenris... I think Zevran wants to say something,” said Anders hesitantly.

The fighter turned and looked to his husband expectantly. 

Zevran signed slowly. _I go speak with him. I will apologise. Stay with husband._ He stared at Fenris to be sure the other elf understood.

“No, you stay here I will speak to Arden," Fenris said. “You can’t talk and he doesn’t understand slave sign, so how will you talk to him then?” he asked.

 _Will speak,_ Zevran signed. _Will write if can’t speak. Must apologise._

“You’re not destroying your voice. I will go and so help me if my brother is there, I will beat him for hurting you," Fenris said brusquely. “You and Anders stay here, that’s final.” 

Anders glanced between them. “Talk to Arden?” he said. “But... oh Maker, this is all such a horrible mess! Look... let me go talk to Hal. We’ll have him bring Arden to dinner this evening, and... and we can _all_ apologise to him, and try and sort this out?”

“No, I will speak with him now. Or I will find Aeolus and have it out with him for this," Fenris growled. 

“Fenris... love. Please don’t let yourself be drawn into a fight,” said Anders quietly. “Arden and Aeolus are good friends; if you hurt your brother, how do you think he’s going to react? And think, love - you’re physically so much stronger than any of us. If you fight Aeolus, he could be seriously injured. How do you think you’ll feel afterwards if that happens? How do you think Pin and Callus will react if you hurt their uncle?”

“And what about the injury he has done to Invictus? It would bring me no joy to fight my kin, do you not think I’ve had enough heartache where it comes to siblings?” Fenris asked quietly.

Anders closed his eyes briefly before gazing into Fenris’ eyes once more. “I know, love. I know you’re hurting. And I’m upset and worried over Vic too - we all are. I just don’t want to see any of you even more hurt, and I don’t think rushing in ready for a fight is going to help anyone. Just - please... let me go speak with him. I could bring him here.”

“Fine.” Fenris gave in before turning back to Invictus. 

“Thank you, love,” said Anders with a small sigh of relief. He turned and hurried off.

It was a short while later when the door opened and Arden stepped in, Anders just behind him. Arden came to a halt as Fenris and Zevran turned to face him, and the blond mage stared at them in surprise. 

Anders closed the door behind him, and a quick succession of expressions raced across Arden’s face - a flash of what might have been anger, swiftly replaced by fear, before his face went blank and then he gave them a polite smile that appeared friendly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Fenris. Zevran. Something happened to Invictus?” He glanced around. “What’s going on?” He continued smiling faintly but a wary look was beginning to creep into his eyes.

“Arden, perhaps you should sit down,” said Anders courteously as he gestured to the chair where Aeolus had sat earlier. Arden stared at it, then suddenly turned to look at Zevran, and the smile was definitely gone now and a look of faint alarm was in his eyes. Wordlessly he walked to the chair and sat, staring up at them all.

“I haven’t done anything,” he said softly. “What’s all this? What’s going on?” 

“Aeolus decided to be judge and jury after I filled him on what we all did to you. He nearly killed Vic and was going to hurt Zevran. Your friend apparently is angry with us on your behalf. I told him that any retribution was to come from you and Hal, not his hand," Fenris said flatly.

Arden had gone very still. “What?” he said, his voice small and hushed. “No, but - wait, this is....” He shook his head, a look of fear in his eyes now. “F-Fenris, you have to believe me - I never asked him to do that, I would never -”

Zevran took a step towards him and he visibly flinched.

“Oh, I know you didn’t ask him. He left me and went straight after Invictus, then Zevran. So clearly he’s angry, question is….are you angry, do you seek vengeance for all we have done to you?” Fenris asked in that same flat voice, his gaze hard as he watched the slight blond. 

Arden’s eyes went curiously hard as his face went blank. They could see his jaw visibly tense. “If I were... don’t you think I would have good cause?” he said, his voice neutral.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you seek vengeance yes or no. I am not in the mood for verbal gymnastics," Fenris said as he finally turned to give the other man his full attention. 

Arden stared back at him. “That depends,” he replied quietly. “Am I going to be punished if I say yes? Because right now I’m not entirely certain my life isn’t being threatened here. If you’re going to hurt me, at least have the decency to tell me what I’ve done wrong.”

Fenris counted to five in Tevene before speaking else he was going to beat the blond this time around. “No, you are not going to be punished. It may surprise you but I do know what Invictus and Callus did was wrong. You have been forced to be around people who mostly hate you, and I’m sure you have no love for us save Hal; which I’m not convinced of but that’s between the two of you. So I’m asking you one final time Hawke. Are you angry and do you seek vengeance?” the warrior stared at him coldly, tense as he awaited the mage’s answer. 

“Fenris, wait!” exclaimed Anders. “You’re just scaring him! This is -” He threw his hands up and glanced at Zevran. 

The Antivan glanced at Fenris, then turned back towards Arden and to the blond mage’s surprise, dropped stiffly down onto one knee and bowed his head. “For my part in wronging you, I apologise,” he rasped painfully. “If there is a way I may make amends, name it.”

Arden stared down at him, the only outward sign of his shock a slight widening of his eyes.

“Zevran. Get up,” he finally said quietly. As the Antivan glanced up at him, he found Arden was leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the elf. “I... appreciate your apology,” he said softly. “I regret my own hasty reaction in anger towards you. I lost my self-control, and I’m only grateful I didn’t kill you.”

Zevran nodded, then began to struggle back to his feet. Arden leaned forward and helped him up, then glanced to Anders and then Fenris. 

“Is this what it’s all about? You want to know if I’m angry?” he said softly as he took a step towards the tall elf. “Yes. Yes, I _am_ fucking angry.” His voice was low and flat. “I think I have every right to be. I did my damnedest to make sure Anders and Invictus got back to you safely at Adamant. I would have _died_ for them. And what thanks have I ever had? How long were you with Hal, thinking I was dead? How long did it carry on after I came back? How long have my eyes been blind? My Fenris died in my arms, I thought my Anders was dead and now he may as well be, because I no longer know the man he’s become. Hal is all I have, and then you all took him from me whilst I slept under your very roof!” He turned and looked at Zevran. “So yes. I snapped. I lashed out, and I bitterly regret that.” He turned back to Fenris. “But what your son did... what Invictus did... I didn’t deserve that. I was sick, heartsore, I wanted to die and just when I was at my lowest ebb - when most of all I needed a word of kindness, some help? I was tortured. I would have died if not for Hal.” He smiled grimly. “Yes, Fenris, I _am_ angry. Wouldn’t you be?” He turned away.

“Yes, I would be," Fenris said flatly as he watched Arden’s back. “As for me and Hal? I had no idea you didn’t know. If I had? I would not have carried on with him as I had, believe me or not I don’t care but that is the truth. What happened in that bath is something I believe we all regret, but we did not take him unwilling, we did not force ourselves on him. We hurt Anders as well as Hal and you, and I begged you to take it out on me rather than Zevran.” 

Fenris got up and followed Arden to stand behind him, though it was hard to keep his hands to himself. “As for wanting a word of kindness? I could not find any after you offered, I believe it was to _fuck your ass raw and choke the life out of you_? I’d planned to bring you back, get you cleaned up and talk the next day because I know what’s it's like to be in that dark place and want nothing more than to die Arden. You’re angry, I expect that and I respect it because I’d be furious in your place and I probably wouldn’t have stuck around. I’d have taken Hal and left but you are stronger than I would have been. So I ask you, what is it you want from me, from Invictus to soothe your anger? If there is nothing? Say so and I will accept it and go on knowing I’ve earned your hate.” Fenris crossed his arms as he finished, staring at the mage. 

As the elf spoke of Arden’s own words, the blond mage slowly clenched his hands into fists at his sides, trembling slightly. “What I said to you, I said out of sickness,” he said quietly, his voice shaking slightly. “I spoke from a dark place in my mind - no, I was _out_ of my rightful mind. I scarcely knew what I was doing, what I was saying.” He shook his head. “And for that I was tortured. Whipped. Worse.” He turned and then recoiled a step as he realised how close behind him Fenris stood. “Damn you, after everything I suffered at Sebastian’s hands, did I really deserve that?” he cried.

“I didn’t say you did. Also, I have said more than once that Invictus was wrong, and Callus was wrong. I have asked you what you want. Is it an apology, to hurt him or me?” Fenris asked as he advanced on Arden. 

Arden retreated another step. “Is it so bloody hard for you just to say _sorry_??” he said desperately as he backed away. “Just - just stop, back away, _please!_ ”

“No, its not but you haven’t told me what you want. If I apologize will it be enough?” Fenris asked quietly. 

Arden had backed away until he could go no further, his back against the wall. “It’s a bloody _start!_ ” he said, his voice shaking. “What in the Void do you want from me, Fenris? Why are you doing this? Why couldn’t you just have done as Zevran did and simply said sorry?” He stared at the elf despairingly. “Do you want me to tell you how I cannot dream at night without being plagued by memories of what happened? That every night I relive it, over and over again? Is that what you want? believe me, I have paid, and paid, and _paid_ for what I did to Zevran and I am _still_ bloody paying!”

“I will not bend knee to you but I will apologize," Fenris said softly. “I am sorry Arden Hawke for what was done to you, sorry that you have suffered so much and lost so much. I am sorry I ever laid with Hal without your knowledge. I promise you that won’t happen again.” the taller elf stared at him, his gaze still flat though his eyes glimmered just a bit. “I apologize for Invictus since he can’t right now, and I hope if you hate him you will just tell him. I’m sorry," he finished quietly before going back to his husband. 

Arden stared at the elf then slowly lifted his hands to clutch his head. “Thank you,” he said shakily. “I just - that was all I ever wanted. J-just....” He gave an audible sob, and then slowly slid down the wall to crumple at it’s foot, head bowed as he began to weep.

“Arden... oh Maker, I am so -” began Anders as he went to him, one hand reaching out towards Arden’s shoulder as the other mage sobbed.

“Don’t touch me!” screamed Arden. “Don’t fucking touch me! Not after what you did!”

Anders recoiled, his eyes wide in alarm. “What... what _I_ did?” he echoed, bewildered.

“What you did to my head - to my mind... that was brutal!” cried Arden. “That was almost as much torture as what _they_ did!”

“I.... but I... I was trying to _help!_ ” protested Anders in a small voice.

The warrior turned to stare at them, not wanting to interfere but ready to pull Anders away if things turned ugly. He glanced at Zevran briefly before flicking his gaze back to the two mages. 

“You tied me and gagged me. What you did was agonising, and I couldn’t even scream,” Arden said in a low voice. “Just like Starkhaven all over again. And now it’s all intertwined in my dreams - you, Invictus, Callus - all tormenting me, and Sebastian’s dead, rotting face, laughing. I’ll never be free of it.”

“Maker,” breathed Anders, horrified. “Arden I am so, so sorry. I never meant to do that to you. That... Andraste’s ashes, can you ever forgive me?”

Arden let his head fall back against the wall, exhausted. “I don’t know,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t know that I can forgive any of you. You have no idea how this has festered inside me - but what would have been the point in saying anything? We have Nightmare to face, and we will need to work together to achieve that. But what happens now?” He turned his head slightly to look at Fenris. “What good will vengeance do me? It can’t undo what’s already been done. It can’t change my dreams. You can’t heal by hurting others. So, no, Fenris. I don’t want vengeance against you - _any_ of you. What would be the point?”

He closed his eyes. “Maker. Now I am so tired.”

The warrior turned away to tend to Invictus so he wouldn’t say anything that would make things worse. He was angry still and wanted Arden gone so he could rest with Vic. 

“Arden, may I help you back to your room?” asked Anders gently, unwilling to touch the other mage without consent. Arden opened his eyes and looked at him, then turned towards Zevran. “No,” he said listlessly. 

The Antivan limped over and held a hand out to Arden; after a moment, he took it, and allowed himself to be hauled back to his feet. Anders drew back and opened the door, then stepped aside as Zevran helped Arden out to the hall. He watched as they headed back down towards Arden’s room, and then he turned back to Fenris with a low sigh.

“Well, that was deeply unpleasant,” he remarked. “Though I think perhaps that was rather like lancing a festering wound; painful for all concerned, but better to let the poison out so healing can finally begin. And he’s right about Nightmare. We need to be able to move on from this if any of us are to survive Adamant.”

Fenris ignored him to join Invictus in bed and curl up around him. He knew if he spoke he’d start a fight. His head hurt, and his heart felt like it was breaking after the fight with Aeolus and confronting Arden. 

“Do you want me to have a tray sent here to your room for dinner, or do you think you’ll be able to join Zevran and I and the children?” asked Anders softly.

“I don’t know, I am hoping to fall asleep," Fenris said before glancing at Anders. “Whether I am there or not, I no longer want Arden on our property after this is resolved. I will give them money to move but I do not want to see him again after we deal with Nightmare.” 

“I think perhaps we shouldn’t make any decisions in haste,” said Anders as he shook his head. “Let’s deal with Nightmare and Adamant first.”

“It’s not in haste, I made up my mind while he was talking to Zevran. I want him gone, discuss it as you will," Fenris said as he pulled the covers up and closed his eyes. 

“Your opinion is noted,” said Anders stiffly, before he turned and left Fenris and Invictus alone, closing the door firmly behind him.

 

***

It took a couple of days for Invictus to fully recover. There was no sign of Aeolus in that time; when Meneris and Dorian dropped by to discuss the planned journey to Adamant, he found the whole group rather withdrawn and quiet. 

They’d gathered in the main parlour that led off from Anders’ room. Everyone was present save Hal and Arden; they finally appeared a few minutes after Meneris and Dorian. Arden had kept to himself after the confrontation in Fenris’ room, and this was the first any of them had seen of him since that day. He glanced around them warily as he paused in the doorway, before he and Hal made their way to take seats at the table. Arden glanced over at Invictus for a moment, before he dropped his glance and instead turned to Meneris and Dorian.

Invictus looked around then nudged Fenris. “Isn’t your brother supposed to be here?”

“As far as I know, yes," Fenris replied quietly.

“Do you have any idea where he is? I thought he was in Skyhold already," Meneris noted.

“None, but I can find him. Excuse me for a moment.” the elf went out in the hall so he could focus on feeling his sibling’s lyrium, to go to him. He was surprised that his brother was so distant, yet he could feel him still. In a moment, Fenris had appeared on the dock at Llomerryn, staring at the ship. “I hate the sea," he muttered as he headed up the plank.

There were a couple of crew members on board; they looked up, eyes narrowing at this strange tall elf who came striding up the gangplank, then moved to intercept him.

“Halt, stranger - what’s your business?” called the one to Fenris’ left.

“I’m here to see my brother, First Mate on this ship," Fenris replied. 

They exchanged glances. 

“Ahoy, Fenris!” called a voice; as he glanced up towards the rear deck, Isabela leaned over the rail. “A bit far from home aren’t you? Didn’t think you’d ever been to Llomerryn before?”

“No, and I hope to make this a brief trip. I’m here to see Aeolus," Fenris called back.

“Stand down, boys,” she called, and the crew members went back to their work, though not without a few curious glances back at the strange elf. “Aeolus is down in the cabin - just go right down the passage, can’t miss it. I’ll be down directly; I need to go over some manifests with a couple of merchants.”

“Thank you.” Fenris waved before heading down to talk with his sibling. He didn’t bother with knocking, just entered.

“Hello, Fenris,” said Aeolus, not looking up from the ledger he was staring down at as he carefully inked an entry. “I wondered how long it would be until you came to find me.”

“Meneris is ready to discuss the siege on Adamant and Nightmare, he expected you to be present Aeolus," Fenris said cooly, noting he’d not called him Leto. 

“Did he.” Aeolus’ voice was calm and flat. “I had things to do; I can’t sit around in Skyhold for days on end waiting on Meneris’ pleasure - or yours. The ship doesn’t run itself, and Isabela and I had loose ends to tie up. I shall be there shortly.” He finally glanced up at his brother. “Was there anything else?”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at how cold his brother was being. “Yes, Aeolus there is.” 

The older elf leaned forward to close the cap on the inkwell before carefully wiping the quill clean of ink. He set the quill down carefully and closed the ledger before he sat back, steepling his fingers as he regarded Fenris calmly. “Go on,” he said.

“Arden had his say, he let us know how he felt and got apologies from us, though Invictus’ was from me since he was still unwell. He said he no longer wishes vengeance, and if you doubt me then ask him yourself if you show up.” Fenris approached his brother, not liking how he almost feel the distance between them. 

“Is this how it is now between us? Am I merely a nuisance to you, and Fenris rather than Leto? Have you cut me off then? If so, then at least tell Callus and Pin so they will know why their uncle has stopped speaking to me.” Fenris felt his power try to rise against his brother’s in his agitation, but he tamped down on it as he waited. 

“I have duties,” shrugged Aeolus. “You interrupted them. Had you called using the ring, I would have come; I did give my word, after all. And you told me yourself that your name is Fenris now.” He arched an eyebrow. “I trust Invictus has recovered and will be making his own apology now?”

“Cut the bullshit, you are treating me as if I’m unwanted Aeolus. I asked why you call me Leto, not asked you to stop saying it. If this is how things are between us, just tell me," Fenris said.

Aeolus rose to his feet. “Bullshit, is it? Funny. Because that’s how I would describe your complete failure to apologise to Arden until after I took action,” replied Aeolus tersely, a faint flare of anger in his blue eyes as he stared at Fenris, slowly circling around the massive heavy desk. “Arden is my friend, and Isabela and I nursed him during the long voyage from Antiva back down to Ferelden. We saw at first hand the damage that had been done to his body and mind by Sebastian - you didn’t. We took it in turns to sit up with him when he couldn’t sleep for the screaming nightmares. You never saw him like that, Fenris. And the thought that between you four you had inflicted all of that upon him once more....” He narrowed his eyes. “It was intolerable. So, I call you Fenris, because my brother Leto would not have done that to an innocent man he had wronged. A man named Fenris may well have however.” He stalked towards Fenris slowly.

“And until I am no longer angry with you, Fenris you shall be to me. And unless Callus has also made his apology to Arden then I have nothing to say to him either. But I shall come to Skyhold, because this matter of Nightmare is far greater than either of us.” He folded his arms and stared at the other elf.

Fenris blinked as he considered his brothers words. “Fine, do as you will and show up when you please. Callus has been asked to apologize but I was a little busy making sure Invictus didn’t die on me. See you there, Nakusa.” with that he left his sibling and reappeared in the parlour but didn’t stay.

“He’ll be here shortly, I’ll get caught up later I need space," Fenris said as he left before his brother could arrive. He was aware of a tense atmosphere as he walked towards the door, and the others were staring between Arden and Invictus.

“Love?” asked Anders as he rose to his feet, at the same time as Pin and Callus exchanged startled looks.

“Papa?” called Pin

“Not now, I need to go," Fenris said to her without stopping. 

“Fenris!” called Meneris sternly. “Whatever it is, it can wait. We need to discuss this now.”

The warrior stood at the door, hand on the latch debating on just leaving anyway. Finally he relented and returned to stand near the end of the table, gaze on the map.

“Thank you,” said Meneris a little testily. “Once your brother arrives we can begin; I’ve received letters by crow from Cullen and from Varric. And, surprisingly, Divine Victoria, who somehow has also gotten wind of what is afoot.” He nodded his head towards the white crow that sat on Hal’s shoulder.

Fenris glanced to the other elf briefly then back to the map. He wanted to just get things over with and head to the fight. If the battle was going on, he didn’t have to think about losing his brother. 

Invictus was still staring at Arden, angry but silent after their exchange. He wasn’t happy that things had happened right there in front of everyone. He looked to his husband, unhappy at whatever had happened to have him so wound up.

Arden was sitting stiffly in his chair, staring down hard at the map instead of at anyone else. He was shaking slightly, and Hal was rubbing gentle circles against his back.

Fenris glared at Arden briefly dropping his gaze to the map while they waited for Aeolus to arrive. Anders rose and moved to the side table where several bottles of wine stood; he poured a glass and wordlessly set it in front of Arden. After a moment, the blond mage nodded his thanks and reached for the glass with a hand that trembled slightly.

Callus took a deep breath and Pin patted him on the shoulder. Then he stepped forward and walked over to the table to stand opposite Arden and Hal as they sat there.

“Arden? I... I also wish to apologise to you.”

Arden paused, his glass of wine halfway to his lips, then slowly set it back down before lifting his head. His eyes were red, and there was a haunted look in his eyes. He looked up at Callus, and after a moment he nodded.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate your apology.”

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Callus went on. “I’ve regretted it ever since. If I -” He fell silent as Arden lifted his hand to forestall him.

“I forgive you,” he said softly. “As I also forgive Zevran and Fenris.” His gaze went briefly to Invictus before it fell back to the table. “And now I would like to put this behind me and move on. Please.”

Callus looked as though he wanted to say more, but after a moment of restless shifting from one foot to the other, he finally nodded. “Alright. I - yes, alright.” He moved back to join Pin, who patted his shoulder again as Garrett gave him a sympathetic glance.

Fenris looked up at Arden’s words but said nothing. He was seething as it was and he could not honestly accept his forgiveness. He glared at the blond for a moment but let his gaze drop back to the map.

A moment later, Aeolus walked in. He paused in the doorway to glance around the room, then made straight for Arden. He walked around the table to drop to a crouch by Arden’s chair as he stared up at him and murmured something in a low voice. Arden nodded and managed to give him a watery smile; Aeolus smiled back in return and reached up to grip Arden’s forearm briefly, before rising to stand just a little behind and to the side of Arden’s chair as he glanced around at the others. His eyes went to first Invictus and then Callus, giving each a slow, measured look then a slight nod before he turned his attention to Meneris.

“If we’re all quite done?” said the former Inquisitor, staring at them with a raised eyebrow before he walked forward and tossed a handful of letters on the table. “Right, to business. Cullen and Cassandra will be here within the fortnight. Varric sends word that he will join us on the road. And I have a letter from the Divine Victoria stating that she sends her regards and best wishes for our success - and also a group of her own personal guard.” He glanced to Invictus. “Your brother is amongst them.”

“It will be good to see him again. What’s our plan once Cullen and Cassandra arrive?” Vic said with a glance to Meneris, avoiding Aeolus and Arden. Dorian stepped forward.

“We ride for Adamant, the same route as we travelled before, though with a smaller force as we don’t expect to have to besiege a fortress full of Wardens this time. Nathaniel Howe will be joining us along the way with a small group of Wardens to come assist us. Krem has agreed to lead the original Chargers and come with us, and Parcival has nominated four veterans of the Clearing to accompany us. With luck, we should have sufficient forces to deal with the demons this Nightmare is undoubtedly going to throw at us.”

“Sounds good, what's our plan until they arrive or do we just get ready, make sure we’re supplied and all of the usual battle preparation then?” Invictus asked.

“The usual, pretty much,” shrugged Dorian.

“If you have need of armour or weapons, or repairs to your own, Krem says please submit your requisition requests to him and he’ll see they’re filled,” added Meneris.

“Alright, I’ll check my staff and if it needs anything I’ll put in an order and go home for my usual armor since there’s not enough time for a new set," Vic said with a glance to Fenris who seemed to be focused on the map rather than the conversation.

“Is there anything else Meneris?” Vic asked.

“Yes, you all get your shit together before we leave for Adamant. I’m not entirely sure what has happened now, but I will not go into battle with us fractured. If you can’t work it out? Then you stay behind," the former Inquisitor said before rising. “That’s all I have, I’ll see you all later.” 

Arden had lifted his head at Meneris’ words; he merely gave the elf the barest of nods, indicating he’d heard and understood.

“Let Varric know I’ll come collect him from Kirkwall personally; no point in him having to travel far out of his way and be delayed by a sea journey after all,” said Aeolus. “Isabela is still with the ship in Llomerryn; I’ll fetch her just before we depart. Is there anyone else I need to fetch?”

“Not that I can think of, but we have time before Cullen and Cassandra arrive, so if I think of them I’ll let you know. This meeting is done," Meneris said with a last glance to everyone and a wave to his husband if he wanted to stay or follow. 

Arden rose to his feet and turned to Aeolus. “May we talk?” he asked quietly. The tattooed elf nodded.

“If you wish,” he replied. “Here or your room?”

“My room,” said Arden. “I think there’s been quite enough public spectacle over this whole mess, and I’d rather not have to subject everyone to more of it.”

Aeolus regarded him thoughtfully. “I see. I take your point.”

Dorian was watching them quietly; as they made their way towards the door, Hal rose and followed after like a silent red-haired ghost. He darted a brief glance at Fenris, his eyes troubled, before he followed them into the hall.

Dorian sighed, then made his way around the table to Fenris. “ _Amicus_?” he asked softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

Fenris glanced up at the door as Aeolus and Arden left then shook his head no. “I need to be alone for a while. There’s not much you can do for a broken heart," he said before heading to the other exit to avoid running into his brother. He took off for the valley at a fast clip, changing as soon as he had enough space to fly and get away from things for a while. 

Dorian turned to the others. “Dear me, what a dreary mess,” he sighed. “Meneris is right though. We can’t afford to be running off into battle whilst at loggerheads with each other; that’s likely to get one or more of us killed.”

“We’re working on it, Dorian,” said Anders patiently. “It’s just something that will take a little time. People are hurting, and if Aeolus and Fenris can’t work this out between them then I fear one of them may have to remain behind.”

“Do you even know what happened? He left to get his brother and came back looking like someone died," Dorian said as he leaned against the table. 

Anders glanced to Invictus, then Zevran. “Do you want to tell him or shall I?” he said uneasily. Callus gave Zevran a startled look as the Antivan uneasily rubbed his throat. The bruises had faded with repeated sessions of healing from Anders, but that morning had been the first time he’d been able to raise his voice above a whisper.

“I’ll explain ser Pavus to save Master Zevran his voice," Callus offered before explaining what he could, with Anders filling in what he couldn’t until Dorian had been given the story. He looked down when he finished, not liking the expression on the magister’s face. 

“So, let me get this straight,” drawled Dorian slowly. “None of you had actually apologised to Arden before Aeolus went off on his little rampage, and now he and Fenris appear not to be speaking. Explain to me why my _amicus_ seemed intent on trying to kill Arden with just a glare alone? He surely doesn’t blame Arden for his own brother’s actions? That seems more than a trifle unfair to me, wouldn’t you agree?”

Anders sighed. “To be honest... something hasn’t been quite right about Fenris since the whole mess blew up - even before he was possessed by that rage demon. We don’t even know how long it had its claws in him - certainly it might explain a lot of his behaviour, though not how he’s behaved since. I’m not sure why he appears to blame Arden for everything - Maker, Arden seems to be the most innocent one here. Even I’m not without blame.” He glanced to Pin, Garrett and Marian. “And you three, of course.” He sighed. “It would be so much easier if we could just _talk_ to him - but you saw what happened when you tried, Dorian. It’s not exactly easy to talk to someone who keeps running away instead of opening up - even to his own husbands.”

“He will not speak to me,” said Zevran quietly. “He does not speak to Anders.” He glanced to Invictus. “Has he spoken to you, my love? You have spent more time with him than either of us.”

“Somewhat, but he has withdrawn all the more since all of this happened. I think we should avoid another fight or him giving his rings back by not sitting around like this discussing him. I’ll ask him what’s wrong when he returns to us. I have no idea why he was glaring at Arden but I’m going to ask when he’s back. I just hope he returns. Perhaps one of you can ask Aeolus what happened?” Vic asked. 

Anders snorted. “Aeolus is even more secretive than Fenris is,” he pointed out. “Probably because he hasn’t been free as long as Fenris. I can _try_ , but I’m not holding out much hopes.” He sighed. “But you’re right, Dorian; we do need to get this dealt with. Hal is our main weapon against Nightmare, which means Arden as well because we won’t have one without the other. And we can’t spend the next two weeks until Cullen gets here with Fenris refusing to be in the same room as Arden and Arden and Hal hiding in their room all the time. If nothing else then that’s bloody unhealthy for Arden and Hal after all the time they had to do that back in Nevarra.”

“I’ll try to call him or maybe you can Dorian? I for one am not excited to be around Aeolus, but I’ll do what I have to for the fight. Let’s go get something to eat, I can feel a headache starting from all this," Vic said with a look to Zevran and Anders. 

Anders nodded. “You and I both,” he agreed as he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He’d been trying to ignore the growing dull ache for some time but now that Fenris and the others had gone, it was growing increasingly hard to ignore it.

“I shall leave you in peace then,” replied Dorian with a brief bow.


	56. Chapter 56

Fenris had stayed away for a little over a day, flying, hunting and sleeping away from Skyhold but the want of a hot bath and emotional drain finally had pushed him to go back to the fortress. He was a little bedraggled as he trudged up the stairs and towards the room he’d taken over. He was tired, so he didn’t notice that someone had come out of a side door and was headed for him. He looked up in enough time to avoid running into them.

He turned to apologize, words dried in his throat as he realized he’d nearly run into Aeolus. “Pardon serah.” he muttered as he skirted out of the other elf’s way. 

Aeolus had his head down, one hand pressed to his face; behind him the sound of abject sobbing drifted from the ajar door of the room he’d just left, and Fenris suddenly realised that it was the room Arden and Hal had been sharing. Staring at his brother, it was easy to see that Aeolus and Arden must have just discussed Aeolus’ behaviour - and the discussion had gone extremely poorly.

At the sound of Fenris’ voice, Aeolus jerked his head up, startled; for a brief second his face was open and unguarded, and his eyes flickered from surprise, to alarm, to a deep, soul-wrenching grief before his eyes shuttered, becoming cool and calm, his face blank and giving nothing away.

“Fenris,” he greeted calmly.

“Nakusa,” replied Fenris. Aeolus halted, his face utterly blank save for a very brief, light fluttering of his right eyelid. Fenris stared; that tiny tell seemed incredibly familiar - and then it came to him. He had last seen Aeolus looking like that on the morning Danarius had come for him; seemingly utterly calm, only that faint flicker betraying the devastation Aeolus had felt at being wrenched away from his family. Both he and Fenris had known at that instant that they likely would never see each other again. And Aeolus was evidently off-kilter enough that he couldn’t quite quell that little tell - or perhaps he was unaware of it.

Fenris paused, unsure if he wanted to say anything or if he wanted to have a moment of utter pettiness at enjoying the fact that his brother’s actions hadn’t had the result he wanted. 

“You seem… distressed.” was all he managed, unsure what else to say. 

Aeolus glanced aside for a moment, a small frown creasing his forehead, before glancing back to his brother.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly. He dropped his gaze to the floor and drew a deep breath before he looked up into Fenris’ eyes. “I... am sorry. Leto.”

The younger elf was surprised at the apology and leery of it. “For what?” he asked quietly. 

“I should not have behaved as I did - to Invictus; to Zevran.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “To you. I was wrong. And I fear how I reacted to you when you came to me in Llomerryn did not serve to make things any easier on either of us.” He glanced away again. “If you wish to no longer speak with me again, I... will understand.”

Fenris stared at his brother as he spoke, unsure whether to believe him. “So you apologized after your friend did not like what you did in his name then?” he asked. 

Aeolus kept his face turned aside, but Fenris could see a look of pain cross his features as he closed his eyes. “For how I spoke to you... I would have apologised anyway. But Arden... he... I should not have taken matters into my own hands like that, and now I have hurt him too. I never meant for that to happen. My rage... I should not have let it consume me. Too easily, I slipped back into what I once was.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Nakusa indeed.”

“I will think on your apology and get back to you. You hurt me deeply, and for once I’m taking time to think about it. You almost killed Invictus and for that alone I should never speak to you again, let alone for further harming Zevran. I hope your friendship with Arden is worth the harm you’ve done to our relationship.” Fenris waited to see what, if anything his brother had to say. 

“I understand,” nodded Aeolus. He was silent a moment, his eyes on the floor, then he straightened slightly. “I will not trouble you further, Leto.” He stepped to one side and glanced up ahead at the hallway.

“I will seek you out when I am ready to speak to you.” Fenris replied before leaving his sibling alone in the hallway. 

Aeolus stood motionless for a moment then began to walk back up the hallway, his footsteps slow and heavy.

Just up ahead, there was a movement in the doorway of Arden’s room; a swirl of black robes. The sounds of sobbing had ceased, and Hal stepped out for a moment, rubbing his face wearily. He glanced back at the door behind him then quietly closed it before he turned and then jumped.

“Fenris! You startled me,” he exclaimed.

“Apologies, I was in a hurry.” he replied. 

“Ah - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep you then,” said Hal, then hesitated. “Fenris... you... don’t look well.” He looked at the elf with concern.

“I’m not.” Fenris admitted bluntly. 

Hal took a step towards him. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked sympathetically.

“Not really, no. Thank you anyway.” Fenris said quietly. 

Hal reached out a hand tentatively towards Fenris, but as the elf merely stared at him, he let his hand fall and looked up at the tall elf, his expression troubled. “Nothing at all?” he asked, his voice small.

Fenris shook his head sadly before looking towards his room. “No, I ...really want a bath and time to myself. Apologies Hal.” 

Hal gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry too,” he whispered as he drew aside to let Fenris pass.

“As am I Hal, as am I.” Fenris said before leaving the younger man to his thoughts. 

Hal turned away and Fenris thought he heard a muffled sniff, and then Hal took off running towards the stairs and fled.

The warrior trudged on, hopeful he could get to his room without anyone else running into him or Mythal forbid seeking him out before he’s had a bath and changed into something clean. Thankfully he appeared to have the bathroom to himself, and he was left in peace and quiet for several hours to reflect on matters alone.

As the dinner hour approached, he heard Anders and Zevran enter the parlour next door; a moment later he heard Hal’s voice. It seemed Arden was feeling unwell and was resting; Fenris heard Anders offer to check on him and Hal demurred.

“Will Vic be joining us, do you think?” Anders asked as, from the sound of it, he moved closer to the wall by Fenris’ bed; there was the muffled sound of glasses clinking, the blond mage evidently feeling in the need of a stiff drink already.

He listened for a few more minutes, and decided to join them. Fenris just hoped they wouldn’t make any remarks about him deciding to come out and have dinner with them, that would send him packing quickly. He opened the door and went to the table quietly. 

Anders glanced up; he was pouring a glass of brandy for Zevran, and as Fenris watched, he topped up his own glass which was nearly empty already. “Oh, hello, love!” he smiled tiredly.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” Zevran raised his glass in Fenris’ direction, then turned to Anders. “Come, pour another for our love, yes?”

“Hi.” he said with a glance to the blond, curious as to why he was drinking already. “What are you having?” Fenris asked. 

Anders glanced at the bottle. “Brandy,” he said, and squinted at the label. “Not Antivan I’m afraid. Not entirely sure where it’s from; it was amongst some pretty dusty bottles at the back of Meneris’ wine stash. I figured he wouldn’t mind if we helped ourselves to a bottle or two. I was looking for some of that Pavali stuff you like so much, but I think Dorian must have hidden that all away in his room - doubtless he’ll spare a bottle or two for you though.” He looked up and smiled.

“I doubt that.” Fenris said as he poured Anders a drink and settled at the table, unsure he liked how Anders was already drinking before food. He said nothing but drummed his fingers on the table restlessly. 

Anders took his seat and sipped his brandy. “How’s Vic? Do you think he’s up to joining us?” he asked. Across the room, Hal had now moved to the drinks cabinet and was also pouring himself a large drink; Zevran was regarding him with a thoughtful look as he followed the redhead back over to the table.

“I don’t know how Vic is, I just returned to the fortress a few hours ago.” Fenris said idly. “I thought I’d come out and have dinner but it seems you all are already having drinks.” 

“Long day,” said Anders briefly as he took another sip.

“I believe Varric has arrived,” remarked Zevran conversationally. “I think Aeolus brought him this morning; he is upstairs with Meneris and Dorian. Perhaps he will join us later?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Fenris glanced at Anders but kept quiet about the drinking. “Has dinner been sent for? If not I may just go to the dining hall.” 

“It should be here shortly I think,” replied Hal quietly. “I’m not sure anyone really uses the dining hall anymore; the hospital have their own kitchen facilities and dining hall, and the Chargers don’t really use the inner keep at all.”

Just as Fenris was going to answer, Invictus entered and actually stopped short when he saw Fenris with them. The elf had been avoiding everyone so he was stunned to see him there. “Hi all, hi love happy to see you here.” he said as he approached the fighter.

“I was bored being alone in my room, so I thought I’d come out for dinner at least.” Fenris replied. 

Anders gave Invictus a warm smile. “Glad you’re looking better, Vic; I wasn’t sure if we’d see you.” He leaned forward to reach for the brandy bottle then blinked as Zevran calmly reached forward and moved it out of reach before rising to fetch a bottle of red wine and a couple of glasses.

“Zev, what...?” began Anders, bewildered, as the Antivan set a glass before Anders then poured for him.

“An interesting little spiced Orlesian red,” replied Zevran. “I recall you were fond of such a drink back in the Wardens; tell me if this is the same one?”

“Oh! Oh, certainly,” smiled Anders as he took a sip. “Oh, Maker! It _is_! How on earth did you find it?”

Zevran merely smiled as he retook his seat. “Perhaps stick to the wine for now and save the rest of the brandy until after dinner, hmm?”

“I think I’ll have some if you don’t mind sharing Zev?” Vic asked as he sat next to Fenris and tried to get the elf to do more than sit there like a log. 

“But of course, my love,” Zevran nodded as he pushed the bottle over to Invictus. At that moment, the door opened again and Pin, Callus, Marian and Garrett entered, just ahead of the serving staff who brought in several large trays of food. The two girls were giggling and took seats next to each other. Pin glanced to Anders.

“Ellowynne wanted to stay with Parcival and Becky - they’ve adopted a couple of little girls and they were all having so much fun this afternoon that Wynne didn’t want to leave, Master Anders,” she smiled. “I hope that’s alright?”

Anders smiled, his eyes a little unfocused. “Oh, that’s fine!” he replied. “I’m glad she has friends her own age. Kids _should_ have friends. None of this being locked up rubbish - she needs friends her own age.”

Pin and Marian exchanged glances. “Ser, are you alright?” asked Marian.

“Fine, I’m fine,” he assured her as the serving staff began setting plates before them all and serving the entrees.”

“If you’re sure,” Marian said dubiously. She was distracted when Pin elbowed her as she glanced across at Fenris.

“You tell them,” murmured Pin, and Marian blushed.

Fenris glanced at his daughter and Marian curiously but waited for whatever news they had to share.

“You two look like the cat that got into cream, what’s going on?” Vic asked. 

Marian looked at Pin, and then they were both blushing. “ _You_ tell them, they’re _your_ dad and step-fathers,” Marian murmured back. Garrett was rolling his eyes with a good-natured grin; whatever it was, he was evidently in on the secret.

“They want to get married,” he said as he reached for his fork.

“ _Garrett!_ ” exclaimed Marian. “You can’t just blurt it out like that!”

“I think I just did,” Garrett replied, unrepentant.

Anders was looking at the two girls with his eyes shining. “Oh... oh that’s so wonderful! I’m so happy for you both!” He glanced at the others, then at Fenris. “Love, you’re getting another daughter!”

“It seems that I am.” He gave Pin a brilliant smile as he went over to her for a hug. “I’m happy for you and Marian, so happy for both of you my sweet girl.” he said as he knelt and felt her wrap her arms around him. 

“So I guess we’ll have another little Hawke around here, if you do the name thing that is.” Vic said with a raised glass to both of them.

“Yeah, I’m not sure ‘Vulpine Gallowglas’ really rolls off the tongue so well, but ‘Marian Hawke’? I could live with that,” Marian shrugged then smiled.

“You mean it? You’re truly happy for us, Father?” said Pin, her eyes shining now.

“Of course sweetheart, why wouldn’t I be?” Fenris asked her. “My little girl is happy, she’s found love and I get a nice daughter-in-law.” 

“And when will this happy occasion take place?” asked Zevran. The girls glanced at each other and their faces became more serious.

“We want to marry as soon as possible - before we leave for Adamant,” said Marian quietly. “After what Arden said....” She and Pin reached for each other’s hands. “If it’s true that some of us might not make it back, then we want to go there as spouses, wedded.”

Anders swallowed hard. “We... we were married just before we faced Corypheus, for similar reasons,” he said slowly. “We wanted to make that commitment to each other before facing that. If one of us had died, it would be as our husband, not merely a lover.” 

Zevran reached out silently and took Anders’ hand, squeezing it gently, before glancing briefly at Hal who was staring hard at his plate.

“May I have the honor of giving your hand to Marian?” Fenris asked quietly. Pin smiled at him.

“Of course, father,” she nodded.

“And you, Marian - is there someone who might give you away also?” asked Zevran. She turned and glanced at Invictus.

“Actually... I was hoping that _you_ might, Master Invictus,” she asked quietly. “Garrett and I... we never knew our father. We grew up in the Circle; there was a senior enchanter there who was like a father to us, but... he was made Tranquil, and then later disappeared. We never found out what had happened to him.”

“I...I’d be honored, thank you Marian.” Vic said as he stared at the twins. “I’m touched, thank you both.” 

Hal had looked up at mention of Tranquility. “You both came from the Gallows in Kirkwall, didn’t you?” he said quietly. “What was the senior enchanter’s name? I may have known him, amongst the other Tranquil.”

Marian smiled sadly at him. “Of course - _you_ were made Tranquil there, weren’t you, Healer Hal?” she asked. “Maybe you might have known him; he was senior enchanter Thekla.”

Anders’ glass fell from his fingers and smashed upon the floor as he stared at her. “Karl?” he said hoarsely. “You - you’re speaking of Karl Thekla?”

“Anders?” Fenris said as he rose to his feet approaching the blond. “Deep breaths ok?” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk of this right now?” Vic said as he hopped up to get Anders pills. 

“Did... did you know him, ser?” asked Marian, startled.

Anders was staring at his hands; he slowly nodded. “Yes, I knew Karl Thekla. He... he was my first ever lover. Kinloch. They sent him away from me, to Kirkwall. By the time I finally reached him, he’d been made Tranquil. To... to teach me a lesson.” He looked up at her, his eyes looking through her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I killed him.” 

“Do you need to go lie down Anders?” Fenris asked as he squatted in front of the mage. “Are you going to be ok?” 

Anders’ eyes focused on him slowly. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “I’ve spoiled everything, haven’t I?” He lifted his eyes to look at Marian and Garrett, who were regarding him with horrified yet sympathetic eyes. Across the table, Hal was also staring at him.

“I think... yes... I think I’d like to lie down,” Anders whispered as he lowered his head to stare at his hands once more.

“I’ll take you to bed in a moment,” Fenris said before rising and tugging the mage up with him. “Can one of you bring a plate to us?” 

“Of course love, just get Anders settled.” Vic said worriedly. 

Anders leaned in against Fenris, his head bowed. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, then glanced at Marian and Pin, giving them a sad smile. “I truly _am_ happy for you both,” he said softly. “This should be a happy time for you, and I’m sorry to have ruined it.”

Marian shook her head. “No, ser,” she replied quietly. “Nothing can change the happiness between Pin and I... and now Garrett and I at least know what happened to Enchanter Thekla. I know he wouldn’t have wanted to live Tranquil. And I know you would have done it out of mercy.”

Garrett regarded Anders sadly. “We’re sorry for your loss, ser,” he said simply.

Anders blinked back tears. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Come on love, let’s get you in bed and maybe have something so you won’t get a headache later.” Fenris said as he herded Anders to his bedroom. He helped his husband get under the covers and sat with him as he waited for Vic to bring them a plate. 

“Love, I am so sorry,” said Anders tiredly as he rubbed his eyes. “That... Maker, I shouldn’t have drunk so much, though now I’ve never felt more sober in my life.”

“What’s done is done, just make sure you eat something and have plenty of water.” Fenris said quietly, relieved when Vic came in with a fresh plate. 

“I’ll be back in a bit with water and a plate for you Fenris.” Vic offered.

“No need, I’ll come back in a bit.” the elf replied. Anders looked up from the plate to stare at Fenris.

“Not staying then?” he asked, with a faint ghost of a smile.

“I was going to wait until you fell asleep, that’s all.” Fenris said warily. Anders waited until the door closed behind Invictus.

“And after that?” he said softly.

“And after that I’m going to have dinner and maybe a glass of wine. Why are you asking?” Fenris replied.

“Love, he’s got reason to wonder about your willingness to stay.” Vic said softly.

“I just wonder whether one of these days you’re going to take off flying and never come back,” confessed Anders quietly with a sad smile.

“I see.” Fenris rose to pace as he considered what to say in response. 

“Fenris… you’ve been pulling away from us even more since the fight with your brother. We’re worried you’re going to just go.” Vic added. 

Anders gave up on even the pretence of interest in his food and lay back against the pillows as he watched Fenris pace. “Sometimes it feels like even when you’re with us in the room, part of you is just looking for the slightest pretext to go,” Anders said sadly. “Like you’re counting down the minutes until you can leave. I know you said you wanted more space to yourself... but I didn’t realise that would mean like this.” He blinked, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. “How long has it been since last you and I shared a bed, Fenris?”

“I just slept in the same bed as you a few days ago!” replied the elf. He was pacing faster, getting angry at trying to help Anders turned into interrogating him.

“Yes, but you refuse anyone’s touch, mine, his, even Zevran’s. You’re angry when you wake up, or you shoot off at the first chance you get after breakfast and you stay off to yourself a lot. Even Dorian can’t get through to you, and now whatever has happened between you and your brother is adding to the things that you don’t talk about.” Vic added.

“What happened between my sibling and I is none of your concern.” Fenris said tersely. “As for this interrogation which I did not consent to or expect? I have a lot on my mind, and you’ve both known me long enough that you should realize I like being to myself to think through things before I talk about them. I hate, absolutely hate being forced to talk before I am ready.” he said as he kept pacing. 

“What happened between you _is_ our concern when it begins to affect us too, love,” said Anders. “And this isn’t an interrogation. I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but... I just need to know where we stand. And when I don’t even know where or when I’ll see you, from one day to the next... I worry, because I _don’t_ know where I stand or what’s happening. Yes, you slept in the same bed as me a few days ago - and when I woke, I was alone. I don’t know what’s happening between us anymore, love; only that you’re drifting away from us and I’m afraid.”

“So me waking up before you is an issue now?” Fenris asked angrily. He’d just wanted to have dinner and not have ...this happening.

“Fenris, calm down and don’t snap at us.” Vic said as the elf turned on him. “You have been angry with all of us even after the demon thing. I thought you were going to glare a hole in Arden’s head before that meeting was done.” 

“Yes, what _was_ that, love?” asked Anders with a small, confused frown. “You looked angry that he’d forgiven you; I would have thought that that was what you would have wanted?”

“Yes, he suddenly changed his mind and forgave me. I don’t trust that he changed his mind that quickly after letting all that fester for months. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him.” Fenris said as he finally took a seat.

“Considering he didn’t have to forgive any of us or accept our apologies---” Invictus stopped at the glare leveled at him.

“He nearly killed Zevran and almost took Anders out as well. But we’re supposed to just accept his apology and go on? Well I’m not. That’s the other thing I’m not thrilled with, is that I say how I feel and then I get lectured on how I feel about anything is wrong. Do I not get to be angry at nearly losing Zevran? Do I not get to be angry and suspicious of a sudden change of heart? As for Aeolus, that’s my concern and mine between us as brothers.” Fenris said. 

Anders was frowning now as one hand rubbed his chest absently. “If Zevran accepted his apology - which he did - then really, no, it’s not right for you to continue to hold that over his head. I also forgave him - which was my right. We wronged him and in return we apologised; he took a couple of days to decide that yes, he forgives us. That’s not a sudden change of heart, love; certainly not for Arden. It takes a long time to break down his control to the point where he snaps - but it’s like a summer storm; over with fast, and he’s then equally fast to make amends and to accept them. Two days was not sudden for him, love. Yes, you get to be angry - but to hold onto that anger and take it out on everyone else? Love, that _is_ wrong. And you keep doing it.”

He turned his face away. “I’m not hungry,” he said softly. 

Fenris was staring at Anders as if he wanted to yell but he didn’t. “Fine, I’ll take your plate away and you can sleep.” he said flatly. 

“Don’t shut us out Fenris, please?” Vic asked.

“Maybe next time don’t gang up on me.” the elf said before taking the tray and heading for the door. 

“No one is ganging up on you! We just wanted to talk Fenris, is that so wrong?” Vic asked.

“Yes, when you do this. I wanted to help Anders to bed, get some dinner into him and rejoin everyone and celebrate my daughter’s news. That was all, but you couldn’t wait to dig at me when you had the chance.” Fenris said quietly. 

Anders stared at the wall, blinking away the tears that he could feel stinging his eyes. “No-one was digging at you,” he said hoarsely. “I just wanted to know where I stand. Is that so wrong?”

“Where you stand right now? I am irritated and I am hurting and I wanted to just have dinner with you all. I love you all but Maker dammit my patience is almost worn through.” Fenris replied. 

Anders said nothing, his face still turned away towards the wall, but Invictus could see the candlelight reflecting lightly off the wetness on Anders’ cheeks as the blond mage slowly rubbed the spot over his heart where scar tissue still lay.

“Fenris maybe we should shelve this until later? Its clear you’re getting angry and Anders is upset. Can I come talk to you later?” Vic asked quietly.

“No.” the elf replied before leaving them alone.

The moment the door closed behind Fenris, Anders rolled fully over onto his side and finally gave in to his tears. “I can’t keep doing this, Vic,” he wept quietly. “I just keep trying and trying and trying, and he just gets angrier and pushes us away and I _can’t_....”

“Easy love, easy. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll come in and stay with you alright?” Vic said quietly. He was tired of the same old thing but he had no clue what to do about his longest love. 

Anders nodded shakily. “Al...alright,” he managed. “But something has to change soon, because this is killing me. I love him, but I can’t do this anymore.”

“I love him too but I’m bloody stumped. Get some rest love, I’ll be back soon.” Vic left him just long enough to get a drink and join Anders in bed, with a call to Zevran to join them soon. 

***

Meneris received a crow about a week later stating that Cullen and Cassandra would be at Skyhold within three or four days at most. The Chargers were restless but ready, an air of anticipation and unease all through the mercenary camp. The mages in the College seemed equally restless, with a small but noticeable increase in minor mishaps, particularly amongst the younger apprentices as their elders amongst the enchanters grew more terse and uneasy.

Pin and Marian’s wedding was due to take place the following morning in what had formerly been the Chantry garden. Several mages from the College had been seen going in and out of the garden for the past couple of days, and the keep kitchen staff were planning a simple but large breakfast buffet; the ceremony was planned for dawn. Pin and Marian had asked Anders to officiate; though he technically had no legal standing, as far as the College was concerned the wedding would certainly be as valid as anything Chantry-sanctioned would have been. By now it was more or less an open secret at Skyhold as to who Anders was; the word never spread any further than the fortress however.

Within the keep, there was a subdued atmosphere of anticipation yet also melancholy. The four elder Hawkes seemed to be very quiet and withdrawn, Anders in particular, though the others put that down perhaps to nerves at officiating at the wedding. Arden and Hal had taken to dining with the others but only when Varric, Meneris and Dorian were present. Aeolus’ presence was infrequent, though he would be present for the wedding on the morrow together with Isabela, and thereafter remain at Skyhold until the departure for Adamant.

Divine Victoria’s forces were expected to join them at the Western Approach. Nathaniel had sent word that they had reached Crestwood.

Zevran was pacing restlessly in the parlour. He limped far less now; Anders and Hal had spent much time working on healing his leg, and their efforts had paid off - though as Invictus watched him, he found himself wishing that the Antivan weren’t quite so restored back to himself; it was tiring simply watching him.

Fenris was in the looking glass, fiddling with his hair before giving up on it. It was too short to braid and not long enough for even a short ponytail. He turned to find Zevran pacing and Anders subdued. He’d gone back to their bed, even asking to spend time with each of his husbands but he was still cautious. He approached the Antivan hoping to get him to remain still.

“What troubles you to have you pacing like a mabari?” Fenris asked. 

Zevran halted and sighed. “It is the waiting,” he said after a moment. “I have ever been thus when there is some trouble ahead, and it is a long way to Adamant. I am sorry _carissimi_ if I am disturbing you.” He gave Fenris an apologetic smile. “It feels like I am being too idle. Were this still the Inquisition, I should have my work to keep me busy but instead, all we can do is wait. I never thought I would miss those days.”

“Why don’t you go spar or see if Callus is around? No point in being restless and cooped up in here if you are getting antsy.” Fenris said. 

“Perhaps you are right. I believe Callus is with the Chargers at present; maybe I shall go see if he or one of they will give my blades a little exercise, eh?” smiled Fenris.

“Just please don’t go undoing all the hard work Hal and I have done,” remarked Anders quietly, not looking up from the book he was staring at upon his lap.

Fenris leaned down but stopped short of kissing the other elf. “May I?” he asked softly. 

“But of course, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran smiled before leaning up to kiss Fenris. Anders looked up briefly to gaze at them before dropping his eyes back to his book, turning the page slowly.

“Have fun and I’ll see you later.” Fenris said softly before turning to the others. Once the door shut, he cleared his throat to get Anders’ attention. 

Anders blinked and lifted his head to peer at Fenris. “Sorry, did you want something, love?” he asked mildly as he shifted a ribbon bookmark to mark his place before carefully closing the book.

“I want there to be peace tomorrow among us so I wish to tell you I am not leaving as you all seem to think I am. I’ve accepted that I will not...I won’t get to have what I want at times and it is what it is. I’m not …” Fenris paused as he struggled for the right words in Trade. “Just know I am not leaving.” 

Anders leaned back in his chair; his gaze flicked to Invictus briefly then back to Fenris. “All relationships involve compromise, Fenris,” he said slowly. “We all have things that we may want to do but can’t or don’t. Love means finding that balance - that give and take between us.” He stared down at the cover of the book for a moment, his long slender fingers tracing the tooled leather, before he looked up. “But thank you for setting our minds at ease.”

“You’re welcome.” the elf said before heading over to pour himself a drink and curl up in a chair. He wasn't happy but he’d at least settled that problem between them. 

Anders glanced to Invictus; he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease in the air. He glanced over at the bottles of wine and spirits on the cabinet and mentally debated a drink himself.

Vic shook his head no and went over to sit by Fenris and take his hand. “Love, what else is wrong?” 

“Nothing Vic, please don’t dig for something that isn’t there? I’ve told you all I’m staying, isn’t that enough?” Fenris replied. 

Anders gave the bottles another glance then inwardly sighed. He traced the inscribed design in the leather, his head lowered. He’d picked up on that same air of something being unresolved - but after that last unpleasant fight the evening of Pin and Marian’s engagement, he was loathe to risk putting himself in the line of fire of Fenris’ anger again. At the same time, he felt the same as Invictus evidently did - there was more to this than Fenris deciding to stay. He opened the book again, but the words made no sense as his eyes stared at the letters, his attention upon anything other than the dry words of the herbal grimoire.

Vic held the elf’s hand in his and gave him a smile. “Fenris, I’ve known you for too long not to be able to tell when you aren’t saying something. Will you tell us or can we guess what’s wrong?” 

Fenris’ head snapped up and he glared at his husband. “Do go on and tell me what I’m not saying.” 

Anders flinched without realising he’d done it. He blinked and turned the page; it made no more sense to him than the previous page had. There was a sprig of deathroot pressed between the pages; he plucked it out and stared at it as he waited with bated breath to see how far Invictus could push the elf into opening up. 

Vic didn’t give in to the urge to yell, instead he ran his other fingers over Fenris’ wedding bands as he spoke. “I think you’re still unhappy with things, and instead of trying you’re giving in and doing what you think will keep the peace rather than being honest with us. I think you’re just capitulating because you worry that if you fight again it will kill Anders and you don’t want that on your conscience. I know you want things to go well for your daughter tomorrow, and your attempt is noble but your heart isn’t in it. How is that?” 

At that, Anders lifted his head and stared over towards them both. He bit his lip slightly. “I’m not that fragile,” he said quietly. “I won’t die if we simply have an argument. But I would far rather we had no reason to fight.” He twirled the sprig of deathroot absently in his fingers.

Fenris stared down Invictus for a long time before speaking. “You’re right, I have given up on getting what I want. I don’t want you three or two of you ganging up on me again. So I’m just unhappy, I got used to it before and I’ll get used to it again.” he glanced to Anders briefly and back to Invictus, sure they were going to be angry with him. 

“Love, this isn’t about you just giving in. We don’t gang up on you, we just wanted to talk to our husband who was avoiding us and being pretty damned cold if he even spent the night in bed with any of us. We’re worried about you. Do you honestly think we want you to be unhappy?” Vic asked.

“No, you don’t but there it is. I’ve agreed to stay and keep the peace. Why can’t that be sufficient?” Fenris asked slowly. 

Anders stared at Fenris. “You know, I don’t think any of you three would let me get away with it if I said that,” he said quietly. “In fact - I _have_ said it in the past and I was left in no doubt that I wasn’t allowed to do that - to myself or to any of you. So, if it wasn’t sufficient for me, why would it be sufficient for any of us? Compromise doesn’t mean just giving in, love. It means communication, actually talking, finding a way forward together. Otherwise, we’re only remaining together out of habit - and that’s not a marriage, love.”

Fenris shrugged as he looked to Anders then Vic. “It is what I’ve decided, to remain with you all. I’ve given up on being heard or listened to. I’m tired of anything I do being wrong, so I’m not going to try anymore. That is my compromise, so let it be.” he rose to refill his wine glass rather than belabor the point.

“That’s not a compromise, that’s staying out of some misplaced sense of obligation.” Vic said tiredly.

“Then call it what you will Invictus, can’t you accept what I’ve said so we can have peace before the wedding and the battle? Just let it alone and leave off.” Fenris said in that same flat voice. 

“No,” said Anders flatly. “Stay because you actually _want_ to stay; because you have an actual reason to stay that isn’t some bullshit excuse about it killing me if you don’t. I’m not about to let the state of my heart stop me and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you use it either. Stay because you feel you have a real reason to stay - because you love us and want to make this work.” He rose from his seat and threw the book down then brandished the sprig of deathroot at Fenris to emphasise his point. “Because otherwise there’s no point to any of this.” He turned and walked to the balcony doors, throwing them open and walking out to lean against the stone balustrade, his head bowed.

Fenris followed him out and turned him around. “If I did not love any of you I would have stayed gone that last time. What the Void do I have to do to prove it?”

Anders stared up at him, startled, his back pressed against the stone railing with nowhere to go, the sprig of deathroot clutched to his chest as he was forced to tilt his head back slightly to meet Fenris’ eyes.

“Then why does it feel like you don’t?” he asked plaintively. “Why do you keep yourself so distant from us? We haven’t made love in so long, sometimes it feels as though you don’t even want to touch us.” He blinked as he gazed up at Fenris. “Love... why does it feel like love isn’t enough for you either?”

Fenris glanced away from Anders and stared over the balcony. “Ever since you and Zevran turned me away, I have not felt...I do not feel as if either of you want me.”

Anders’ eyes widened slightly. “When did we ever turn our backs on you, love?” he whispered.

“That night you and Zevran told me no, when you saw through my need to submit. I cried myself to sleep between you and neither so much as said a word the next day.” Fenris said quietly. “Just let me be here with you, that’s all I want.” he said plaintively. 

“You wanted to use us to punish you,” said Anders, horrified. “You wanted to use us just as Vic once used you. Love, how were we to respond to that? That... that wouldn’t have been making love! That - Maker, don’t you remember how you felt when I told you what Vic had told me? How angry and sick you felt? I honestly thought you were going to kill me when I blurted it out that day! Zevran and I weren’t angry, but... Maker, the thought of that... that goes far beyond bedroom games, Fenris, and it horrifies me to think I could do that.”

“You pushed me away, you didn’t...you just wanted to sleep so did Zevran. Neither of you even…” Fenris choked back a sob as he caught himself from losing his composure. “Never mind, its done and over now. Just let me stay, please.” 

“I was sick and feverish,” Anders said faintly. “Don’t... don’t you remember?” He stared at Fenris, bewildered and hurt.

“Yes, but you didn’t even cuddle as you claimed you wanted to. Just… let’s stop talking about this! I said I’d stay, just let me stay.” Fenris all but begged. 

Anders tried to turn, but Fenris was so close he was effectively pinned, even though the elf hadn’t so much as laid hands on him. Instead he lowered his head. He realised he’d been clutching the deathroot so tightly that the fragile dried stem had crumbled in his hand. “I was sick,” he repeated in a dazed whisper. “I don’t remember....”

“Then you don’t remember, can we drop it, please?!” Fenris asked as he backed up when he saw the way Anders had clutched whatever he was holding and looked afraid. 

Anders opened his hand and let the fragments of dried flower fall, then numbly nodded. He stared at the remains of the deathroot scattered on the balcony, then glanced back towards the room inside - to see Invictus staring at him with a startled, horrified look, and he realised with a sinking heart that he must have heard the whole thing. He felt sick at heart.

“I need a drink,” he murmured.

Fenris backed away so Anders could go past him. He turned to the balcony so he wouldn’t have to see the look on Invictus’ face. “Mythal, kill me now.” he whispered. 

Anders made his way back inside and crossed straight to the drinks cabinet without looking at Invictus. Hastily he poured himself a large brandy, then closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing as he sipped the drink slowly. He could feel dustry fragments of the flowers still clinging to his hand; he set the glass down to dust them off, not looking at his hands but instead staring towards the windows before he took up his glass and drank. His hands were shaking slightly, and he wished Zevran had not left to go to the sparring rings.

Invictus went to him and hugged him from behind, apologizing to the other mage. “Come to bed with me?” he asked quietly. 

Anders coughed slightly; the brandy was burning his throat on the way down; after a moment, he turned in Invictus’ arms and stared into his eyes. “It’s only a couple of hours past noon,” he replied dazedly, “but... alright. Maker. Did I somehow make everything worse?”

“I don’t know, but I could go for a nap and to hold you for a while if that’s ok?” Vic said softly. 

Anders glanced down at the brandy glass still in his hand; he downed it swiftly, then leaned forward to rest his forehead against Invictus’ shoulder. After a moment, he nodded slightly. “Alright,” he said softly.

“Come on.” Vic led him away with a final glance to where Fenris had slumped down on the balcony, and seemed to be staring at nothing. Anders set the glass down and let himself be led into the bedroom, slowly unlacing his robe as they went. He shed it just inside the bedroom doorway, slowly unlacing his shirt as Invictus drew him by the hand towards the bed.

“Vic... what are we going to do?” he asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know, and I regret pushing him though it needed to be said.” Vic pulled his clothes off and crawled into bed with a smile for his husband. “Right now, I really want to hold you and feel good.” 

Anders pulled his shirt open and stripped it off slowly. “I feel very far from good right now,” he confessed. “I feel I’ve just been blamed for something that wasn’t even my fault. Vic, I was _sick_ \- sick enough that the next morning even you were worried. I can’t even remember half of what happened after Zevran and I worked out what he was really after! Yet somehow it feels like I’m being blamed, and I really don’t understand why.” He let the shirt fall as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to unlace his boots.

“For what it's worth, I don’t think he’s blaming you. I think he felt unwanted and since he won’t talk to to us, it's gotten worse in his head than what it actually was. Maybe Zevran can make him see sense.” Invictus watched him undress and once Anders had joined him, he leaned over to press gentle kisses to his chest and his jaw. 

Anders shifted slightly restlessly, but as Invictus began to kiss along his jaw he closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little, baring his throat as he lifted a hand to slowly trace the side of Invictus’ face with his fingertips, then down the side of his neck and across his shoulder, slowly trailing it down Invictus’ arm to his wrist. He gave a small sigh.

“May I continue? Or do you just want me to touch you for a while and sleep?” Vic asked quietly. 

“No... continue....” Anders opened his eyes and gazed up at Invictus. “Please?”

“Of course love.” Vic said before he pulled the sheet away and trailed kisses down the other man’s body until he reached his cock, licking down to the head and taking it in his mouth, sucking slowly while he stared up at Anders. 

Anders gasped, his back arching up beneath Invictus and then breathed a soft, quiet moan. He lifted his head to stare down at the other mage, his pupils blown wide until there was only a thin ring of amber around the dark circles. “Vic....” he breathed. He reached down a hand to caress Invictus’ cheek. “Maker... please....”

Vic pulled away and smiled at him. “Please what love? You want to come already or want to let me make you feel good and fuck you?” he asked in a rough voice.

Anders’ breath had quickened. “Fuck me, Vic. Please.”

“Ok, just relax.” Vic said before he took Anders in his mouth again, eager to play for a bit before calling up oil in his palm and nudging the blond’s legs apart. He paused only to oil his fingers before bending down to suck his husband and get him open. 

nders spread his legs further apart and drew up his knees then gasped as he felt Invictus’ fingers breach him, reaching inside. “Oh... oh Vic... that feels so good,” he groaned. “H-harder... I need more....”

“Easy” Vic said after pulling away and looking to his husband. “On your knees or your back?” he asked as he added a third finger. 

“Knees,” pleaded Anders. “You can fuck me deeper that way.” He rolled over onto his stomach then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, legs spread. “Maker,” he groaned as Invictus pressed his fingers slowly back inside him, and then he shuddered as Invictus brushed his sensitive spot. “Andraste’s arse, I’d give anything for Fen’s cock in my mouth right now as you’re doing that,” he confessed as he dropped his head to hang down between his arms.

“Want me to go get him? Show him he’s wanted?” Vic asked as he continued to finger his husband’s ass fast and hard. 

Anders cried out with a shudder. “Maker, yes - Fen, yes!”

The elf started when he thought he heard Anders crying out in what sounded like passion. “Hearing things, there’s no way he’s calling for me like that.” 

He jumped when Invictus appeared at the balcony door a few moments later. “Come to bed with us, you’re wanted and needed love.” Vic said as he offered a hand to the elf.

“I wasn’t hearing things?” Fenris asked hopefully.

“I’m naked aren’t I?” Vic said again. 

As Invictus led Fenris into the bedroom, he was presented with the sight of Anders, naked, on his hands and knees. Oil was trickling down the inside of his thigh and he was panting; as he lifted his head to glanced back over his shoulder, Fenris could see Anders’ face was flushed, slightly sweaty, eyes dark and dazed, a wanton look upon his face with his blond hair tousled and dishevelled.

“Fen,” he breathed. “I... I want your cock. Please.”

The elf undressed, still not sure what was going on but he crawled on the bed and as soon as he was close enough, Anders pulled him over and took his half-hard cock down his throat. “Fuck.” he moaned. Half-erect as it was, Anders was able to swallow him right down to the base; he hollowed his cheeks as he drew slowly back up, the suction causing Fenris’ cock to take definite interest. As Anders sank down again, he spread his legs so Invictus could return to fucking him hard with his fingers.

As Anders’ nose brushed Fenris’ abdomen, the elf felt his cock brush the back of Anders’ throat. The elf gasped as he felt Anders pull back slowly until just the head of his cock was in his mouth, and he whimpered when Anders moved forward until he’d gotten most of the elf’s thick dick down his throat. 

Anders hummed as he relaxed his jaw, working more of Fenris’ cock into his throat as he curled one hand around the base of the elf’s member, pumping it slowly as his lips slid down to meet his fist, mouth stretched wide around Fenris’ flesh. He glanced up at the elf to see the look on Fenris’ face as the elf reached down to fist his hair, tugging it slightly; obediently, Anders worked his hand and mouth faster. 

Then Invictus thrust a third finger deep into him and twisted just _so_ , and Anders’ eyes fluttered shut as he shuddered. A low, wanton moan rose up in his throat only to be choked off as he sank down onto Fenris’ cock once more.

“Please...please.” Fenris moaned as he felt Anders take more of him down.

Anders was softly moaning each time he drew his lips back up towards the head of Fenris’ cock, his fist pumping steadily with a twist of his slender wrist before he sank down again, lips stretched tight over Fenris’ flesh, striving to take as much of Fenris in as he could even as he pushed back into Invictus’ fingers. Each time the other mage stroked his sweet spot Anders shuddered, writhing slightly, until Invictus was stroking the sensitive place with each thrust and Anders was a hot, sweaty, whimpering mess, panting hard through his nose as his strokes sped up.

Then Invictus slicked his cock and in one smooth thrust he sheathed himself fully in Anders’ hot, tight hole and started thrusting in earnest, his hands gripping Anders’ hips as Fenris lifted a hand to brace against the blond mage’s shoulder. As Invictus pounded into him harder and faster, Anders moved faster himself, and Fenris was now the one writhing, panting as Anders brought him closer and closer to the edge. Anders’ eyes were closed, lost between the sensations in his body and what he was doing to Fenris; his only warning that the elf was on the verge of coming was Fenris’ hand suddenly tightening on his shoulder. Anders drew back just far enough that he didn’t choke when Fenris came, his seed filling Anders’ mouth and throat as the elf shouted.

The blond mage milked Fenris’ cock, swallowing his spend then lowering his head over the elf’s groin to suck as he drew back, lapping up every last trace. As he pulled away, a thick rope of Fenris’ spend stretched from his swollen red lips to the tip of the elf’s cock and then dripped slowly down Anders’ chin. He opened his eyes and grinned dazedly at Fenris.

Invictus glanced up as Fenris fell back, panting, and he suddenly grinned. “Want a ride, love?” he suggested, panting, as Anders lowered his hand back down to the mattress and let his head hang between his arms again, rocking back to meet each of Invictus’ thrusts with a low panting cry. Fenris lifted his head to stare at them, and Invictus grinned, nodding at Anders who hadn’t yet come. As Fenris pulled himself back, Invictus slapped Anders on the arse. “On your back, love,” Invictus ordered as he pulled out.

Anders cried out at the sudden, unexpected sting of the slap then groaned hedonistically; he dropped down onto the mattress and rolled onto his back. He spread his legs again and Invictus slammed back into him. Anders’ cock was erect and hard, resting heavily against his stomach and weeping slightly from the tip.

Fenris stared down at Anders, then up at Invictus and nodded; the mage grinned and called up more slick in the palm of his hand. Fenris oiled his fingers and then rose up on his knees to start working himself open as he watched Invictus slow himself until he was leisurely thrusting into Anders’ body and the mage beneath him was whimpering and begging for more.

Then Fenris was swinging a leg astride Anders’ body as he reached down for the blond mage’s cock. Slicking it with the rest of the grease from Invictus’ palm, he carefully lined up the head of Anders’ cock with his entrance and then slowly and steadily sank down until Anders was fully seated inside him as the blond mage gave a long, low groan.

“Oh... oh Fen... you feel so good,” murmured Anders.

Fenris lifted himself up then dropped back down, and his soft cry was echoed by Anders.

Invictus let the elf set the pace, and as Fenris sped up, so did he, until he was pounding faster and harder into Anders, the blond mage’s cries vying with Fenris. The elf was panting as he fucked himself on Anders’ cock, the mage writhing and moaning beneath him, lips still red and swollen from having been wrapped around Fenris’ cock. The elf leaned forward and on impulse sank his teeth into Anders’ lip, worrying it slightly as Anders cried out; then he silenced the mage with a hard, demanding kiss that stole their breaths until he was forced to pull back for air.

Fenris rocked back onto Anders’ cock and now began fucking himself on Anders in earnest as the blond mage worked to meet both the elf’s downthrusts and Invictus’ thrusts into his own body; his brow was furrowed slightly in concentration, his forehead sheened with sweat.

Fenris’ breath was coming now as panting cries. “Close, I’m... close, gonna...” he stammered.

“Come for us, love,” Invictus encouraged him; Anders lifted a hand to curl it about Fenris’ cock and then with a few swift pumps from his hand Fenris was coming again, messily, over Anders’ chest and face. Anders’ lips parted and he gasped, then licked the spend from his lips and gazed up at Fenris, his eyes half-lidded. His own thrusts sped up now, his hips snapping up faster into Fenris as his breath came in high little cries until finally Fenris felt Anders’ cock pulse and throb deep inside him and a wet warmth deep inside.

Fenris lifted himself up off Anders carefully, his thighs trembling from having come twice in quick succession. Laying down beside Anders as Invictus leaned forward, pushing Anders’ legs up over his shoulders until Anders was almost bent double, Fenris claimed the blond mage’s lips with another kiss, tasting himself as Invictus redoubled his efforts, pounding into Anders with almost punishing, brutal force, deep and hard as Anders had begged for as he chased his own orgasm at last. Anders’ cries were swallowed up by Fenris’ mouth as his eyes flew wide open.

Finally with a grunt, Invictus came deep inside Anders. He continued thrusting a few more times before he slowed until, after a couple more desultory thrusts, he stilled, panting.

As he slid out of Anders and lowered the blond’s legs back to the mattress, Fenris pulled away to look down at Anders, whose eyes were closed as his chest heaved, gasping for breath. The elf flopped next to Anders, panting as he tried to still the trembling he still felt in his legs. He took the blond’s hand in his and cuddled against him, softly crying on his shoulder. 

Anders’ eyes fluttered open and he clumsily lifted a hand to pat Fenris gently. “Love?” he panted.

“I’m sorry...I really thought you didn’t want me anymore.” he said against the blond’s shoulder. 

Anders stared at him dazedly. “Love... I do, I never stopped loving you or wanting you,” he said, bewildered. He turned his head slightly to rest it against Fenris’ head. “Still do,” he breathed as his eyes slid slowly shut.

Fenris nodded as he curled closer and let himself drift off next to Anders.”So, sorry.” he mumbled again before drifting off. 

Invictus got a basin and cleaned them off, tsking at the mess on Anders face and chest. He was gentle as he cleaned them best he could before taking care of himself. Fenris stirred and opened his eyes briefly as he felt Invictus cleaning him up, but Anders was utterly dead to the world, not even snoring he was so deep under.

“Sorry Vic, love you.” Fenris mumbled before resting against Anders and finally slipping into a doze. 

Zevran had returned from the sparring ring, Callus in tow; both were sweating, and Callus had a sheepish look.

“See, you may as well shout from the rooftops when you use such a stance,” Zevran was explaining. “If you use such a stance in the ring, your opponent will always know how to counter you. Embarrassing enough during practice, but possibly lethal elsewhere, yes?” He looked around and saw Invictus and gave him a smile. “Ah, my love! A victory for me today, and Callus has learned that I am yet the master! Anders will be pleased to know that my leg is fine and I have not undone his hard work also.” He grinned, then glanced round. “Ah, but where _is_ my heart? And my _carissimi_ too?” He looked back to Invictus, a slightly worried look creeping into his expression. “ _Mi amor_ , is all well?”

“Quite well, they are...resting after a hard afternoon.” Vic said with a wink to Zevran and a wave to Callus as he tied the sheet around his hips and headed for the bath. 

“Hmm, be not overlong in the bath, _mi amor_ ; I, too, need to wash after sparring,” remarked Zevran as he made his way over to the drinks cabinet and reached for the brandy. He paused. “How strange,” he mused. “Callus, come, a test for you! This dried herb here - can you identify it?” He gestured to the dried fragments of small flowers and stems, chaff scattered on the cabinet shelf save for one clear circle where a glass must have sat.

The younger elf came over and frowned as he realized what it wast. “Deathroot dried. This is very dry, so likely it's old but why would there be any in your room?” he asked. 

“A very good question,” nodded Zevran. “It is none of mine, for all mine is fresh and I did not bring any with me in any case.” He fingered the empty circular spot. “And this, too, troubles me.” He turned and walked over to the bathroom door. “ _Mi amor?_ May I enter?”

“Of course, I’m in the tub if Callus needs to come with you.” VIc said. 

Zevran pushed open the door and walked slowly over to the tub. He crouched down next to Invictus, and the mage’s smile disappeared when he saw the grave look on Zevran’s face.

“ _Mi amor_ , deathroot has been spilled upon the drinks cabinet and I think in someone’s glass. Do you know if anyone has been in our rooms whilst we were absent, and who might have drunk from that glass?” Zevran eyed him with a look of worry. “I am wondering if we have an assassin amongst us - and a clumsy one at that. Whoever drank from that glass may be in danger, depending on what it was mixed with. Pray it was nothing stronger than wine.”

“I think it was Anders, he had a flower or something in his hand earlier when we...tried to talk to Fenris once you had left. He had brandy before our fun and he’s asleep now. What do you think happened?” Vic asked as he rose from the bath, reaching for a towel.

Zevran rose to his feet. “I do not know. Where is Anders now?” he asked, a note of urgency in his voice.

“Asleep in our bed with Fenris.” Vic replied. 

Zevran turned and burst out of the bathroom and headed for the bedroom door at a dead run, racing past Callus who stepped back in startlement as Zevran threw himself into the bedroom. As Invictus hurried after him, they both heard Zevran call out. “Callus! My belt and pouches now, if you please! There on the table!” There was a note of command in his voice, underlaid with fear.

“What’s wrong? He was fine when we were ah, occupied.” Vic said as he hurried to catch up. 

Callus ran into the bedroom with the belt. Fenris was stirring awake, startled, to find Zevran crouched upon the bed over Anders, trying without success to rouse him. As Fenris sat up, alarmed, Zevran gestured hastily to Callus who threw the belt to Zevran. The Antivan searched frantically through his vials. 

“Be thankful the herb was old and dry and will have lost of its power,” said Zevran. “Invictus, how much brandy did he drink?” 

“Two, um he had two shots worth I think? What’s the matter?”

 

Fenris sat up and stared at everyone in their room. “What is going on?” he asked as he tried to snap to.

“Deathroot,” said Zevran as he found the vial he was searching for. “Anders has been poisoned, I fear.” Uncorking the vial, he pried open Anders’ mouth then carefully dripped four drops onto the comatose mage’s tongue. “With luck, he will not have taken harm and merely be deeply asleep, but with his weakened heart I do not wish to trust to luck,” he muttered as he recorked the vial then studied Anders’ unconscious face. “But what I do not know is where the deathroot came from.”

Invictus and Fenris looked at each other then Fenris hopped out of bed and ran to get the book Anders had dropped earlier. He handed it to Zevran before pulling a sheet over himself. 

Zevran took the book, noting it was a herbal compendium of some sort. He flicked through until he found Anders’ ribbon bookmark; turning the page he stared down at the fragments of deathroot scattered in the fold of the pages and the imprint where some herb had been pressed.

“Where did he get this book?” asked Zevran quietly. “Do any of you know?”

“I think it was here somewhere, why?” Invictus asked as he joined Fenris on the bed. 

“I need to know if he found it by chance or someone left it for him,” said Zevran softly. “I need to know if this were merely some unfortunate accident or whether someone has tried to kill him. I failed him before and I will not do so again.” The Antivan stared down at Anders’ sleeping face.

“I don’t know, we haven’t lived here in almost two years I doubt it was intentional.”Vic said. 

Zevran laid the book aside then gently caressed Anders’ still face. “ _Mi cuore,_ ” he breathed. “I will not lose you again.”

“I think he’s fine and it was an accident Zev.” Vic said softly.

“He pulled the book himself and seemed to know what it was.” Fenris said as he rubbed at his eyes and debated asking Callus to turn so he could dress.

Anders stirred slightly, rolling his head slowly on the pillow as a small frown creased his brow. His eyes drifted half open as he sighed, then slowly he opened his eyes and stared drowsily up to find four anxious faces clustered round and staring at him. He blinked, bewildered.

“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily. “Did I oversleep?”

“No, but Zevran was worried for you when he discovered that deathroot you had.” Vic said. 

“Deathroot?” asked Anders, frowning, and then his face cleared. “Oh, the sprig I found in the book the merchant gave me two days ago? He showed up with a pile of stuff from one of the annulled Circles and I’ve been trying to get a copy of that particular one for years!” He yawned and stretched. “Maker, I feel so sleepy still.”

Fenris frowned at that. “Did that man know who you were?” he asked quietly. 

Anders shrugged. “I don’t think so? Parcival mentioned he’s generally here every week,” he said slowly. “He said he’d asked about this one for me; apparently he’s got a knack for finding really hard-to-find books.”

“Hmm, I think Zevran should look into this man.” Fenris said as he pulled back and sat against the headboard. “For now, I think we should let Callus go so he can find his sister and allow us to dress. 

Anders glanced down at the sheet that preserved his modesty, then up at Callus. “Ah! Er... yes,” he said, blushing slightly. Callus appeared to be studying his chest, and with an uneasy feeling he realised the young man was staring at the two scars that neatly bisected over his heart - one an old sword wound some three inches across, the other the fresher scar from Cole’s attempt on his life two years ago - both passing through his heart. He fingered them self-consciously, then stilled as Callus’ eyes lifted to meet his gaze, an incredulous look in the elf’s eyes.

“Come, Callus; let us go see if there are any more traces of deathroot that should be cleaned away so we can have no more little accidents, eh?” suggested Zevran, distracting his former apprentice.

“Oh, of course Master Zevran!” Callus said before he dashed out of the room well ahead of his mentor. 

Fenris sat back and stared at Zevran, wondering if he would be angry with him for not waiting for his return. Zevran seemed to be oblivious; he was gently stroking Anders’ face as if to reassure himself the blond mage was alright. He leaned forward and gently kissed Anders before moving away to follow Callus more slowly, carrying his belt of potions and poisons with him.

Anders ran a hand slowly through his dishevelled hair. “Well, that was... not how I expected to wake up,” he remarked, bemused.

“Can you go back to sleep?” Fenris asked quietly.

“I don’t think any of us will be able to go back to sleep until tonight. Why don’t you and Zevran take a bath, we’ll get settled and relax in the parlor.” Vic said with a wink at their husbands. 

“I’m still pretty sleepy,” mused Anders. But we need to be up early tomorrow for the ceremony at dawn so I probably ought to at least try to get up and eat something before I crash out again.” He sat up slowly and blinked, dizzy for a moment.

“I’ll get you up and get you something to eat so Zevran can get that bath he was distracted from. Fenris you could probably use one too.” Vic said.

“I beg your pardon?” Fenris asked.

Anders blinked and glanced at Fenris, then down at himself. He recalled having been rather more sticky and covered in fluids before they fell asleep that Fenris had been, but at some point someone - he presumed Invictus - had cleaned him up. Still, he gave Invictus a dubious look. “Don’t you mean me, love?” he asked slowly. “I seem to recall I was the one who caught a facial....” He gave Fenris a sly grin, then licked his lips slowly and deliberately.

“I think Invictus is trying to be less than subtle in giving Zevran time with me alone.” Fenris said as he stared at the shorter elf.

“This is why I was never a spy. Go have fun if you want while I get this one fed and watered.” Vic said. 

Anders blinked then quietly chuckled. “Now I know I’m more than halfway asleep,” he smiled. “I should have worked that one out for myself.”

Zevran had paused at the door; as Fenris glanced up at him, he inclined his head to one side then smiled. Slowly starting to unlace his shirt, he turned and sauntered slowly in the direction of the bathroom.

Fenris glanced at the others; it was only when Anders smiled and made little shooing motions with his hands that he finally rose from the bed to follow.

Anders and Invictus watched, and quietly chuckled.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pin and Marian are married, Fenris finally talks to his brother, and an apology is made to Zevran.

Pin and Marian were married at dawn the following day.

The service was a simple one; both girls wore plain white dresses, belted with a red silk sash, standing beneath a bower of wild roses as Anders conducted a brief service that to all those gathered there felt somehow more spiritual and fitting that any Chantry service could have been. The mage was dressed in a simple blue robe, unadorned, save for a red silk sash about his own waist. As Invictus led Marian forward and Fenris led Pin, the elf laid his daughter’s hand in Marian’s before he and Invictus stood back.

They pledged themselves to each other and exchanged rings made for them by Dagna, who stood by Meneris and Dorian with a proud smile on her face. The dwarven artificer had been delighted to contribute to the occasion with her handiwork.

Anders took the red silk sash from his waist and bound the girls’ hands together as he pronounced a final word of blessing. Then he lifted his hands up to speak his benediction.

“Vulpine and Marian, from this day forth you are married, one to the other. May your lives be long and full of love.” He smiled at them. “You may both now kiss the bride,” he added.

As Pin and Marian embraced, the assembled guests broke out into applause, before Marian turned and began to lead Pin back through the garden. An honour guard of mages formed up to make an arch with their staves as the girls passed under, and then Anders followed with Fenris, Invictus, Zevran and Aeolus walking behind him. Then the mages lowered their staves and the guests followed as the newlywed couple led them back to the main keep.

The main hall had been brought back into use after having stood empty for well over a year. The old Inquisitor’s throne had been removed and in its place was a long banqueting table where the girls were sat in the centre, their family and closest friends spread out to either side. The rest of the hall was filled with tables where mages from the College and various of Krem’s Chargers sat, ate and toasted their health.

Then after three hours of eating, drinking and merrymaking, the girls took their blushing leave of everyone and retired to what had been Anders’ original quarters, now redecorated and outfitted as a bridal suite for the young couple.

It was early afternoon by the time Invictus, Zevran and Fenris finally found themselves ready to head back to the parlour in their own rooms. Zevran was regarding Anders with fond amusement as the blond mage chatted on, oblivious, to Varric, Aeolus and Isabela; to one side, Cullen and Meneris were deep in conversation with Arden as Cassandra and Hal looked on.

Fenris gave Invictus a kiss on the cheek before seeking out Aeolus. He’d been avoiding his older brother since their altercation, but he felt ready to speak. “Brother, may I have a word?” he asked quietly. 

Anders paused mid-sentence as Aeolus glanced to his brother.

“Everything alright, sweet thing?” asked Isabela softly as she laid a hand on Aeolus’ arm. He patted her hand reassuringly.

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “Excuse me, _amata_.” He leaned in and murmured something in her ear then they kissed before he pulled away. He nodded to Fenris. “After you, brother,” he said quietly.

“Is everything -” began Anders; Varric took one of his arms whilst Isabela linked her arm through the other and they turned him away.

“So, Blondie, that ceremony - where did you come up with that? Is that an Anderfels thing?” the dwarf asked as they led Anders away.

Fenris led his brother to an alcove where they could sit and hopefully not be bothered. He took a seat so he wouldn’t loom over Aeolus. “I...have been an angry fool brother.” 

Aeolus’ expression was unreadable as his blue eyes regarded Fenris for a moment; he slowly folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the alcove. “I’m listening,” he replied. “Go on.” Though his face seemed blank, Fenris thought he caught a slight flutter of the other elf’s right eyelid. Aeolus may have seemed calm, but Fenris was aware that his brother was feeling agitated inside.

Fenris looked at the ground as he found words and courage. “I have...been thinking. I am not right in the head as Anders would say. My anger blinds me to sense and being able to hear what people tell me; or worse my fears prey on my mind to the point of me being unreasonable.” he started to fiddle with his rings as he spoke, hating each word that came from him as he went on.

“I was convinced they hated me, that no one wanted me among them any longer. That said, you still hurt me by hurting Invictus and Zevran. I would give my life for them, and when they are hurt, it hurts me. Your coldness on the ship was just...it was unexpected, and it hurt. I know I hurt you when I left, when I used your slave name. It was ...intentional since every time you called me Fenris, it was like a knife.” 

Aeolus had unfolded his arms as Fenris spoke, and he was now almost completely motionless save for the flutter of that betraying eye. “As was when you called me Nakusa,” he replied tonelessly.

“I know, I know. I wanted to hurt you as you wounded me.” Fenris admitted.

“In that you succeeded,” Aeolus replied, his voice still quiet and devoid of colour. “It has been long indeed since anyone was able to wound me that badly. That was Varania. Congratulations, brother; you and she are equal in that now.” 

“No, I am not like her. No matter what I’ve done I will never be like her!” Fenris said before he caught himself. “Sorry, I..I can’t stand to be compared to _her_ like that.” he remained seated, barely. 

“She withheld my name from me and then you denied it to me,” replied Aeolus. His breath was coming a little faster now.

“I’m sorry, just don’t say I’m like her, please. I want to work things out if we can brother.” Fenris said as he looked to his sibling. 

Aeolus glanced to the side and took a slow, deep, deliberate breath. “Then there must be an end to this deliberate wounding, the hiding, the suspicion, the denials,” he whispered, his voice sounding thick. “If we are brothers then let us behave as brothers. We should have trust in one another. You could not hurt me so if I did not love you, Leto.”

“I am having a hard time with trusting you Aeolus. I have wondered if you would use what I told you against me when you greeted me with such ice in your heart and words. You can hurt me easily, and it scares me now to be open with you.” Fenris admitted. 

“Ice?” murmured Aeolus as he lifted his head and turned back to Fenris, and for the first time he saw a glimmer of emotion in the blue eyes; a hint of wetness on his eyelashes. “No. Never ice. Fire perhaps that I could only keep inside.”

“Then you don’t realize the chill that went through me when you looked at me in Llomerryn Aeolus. I do not want to fear you, or worry about confiding in you but I do. You hide yourself from me as well except for your anger, or disappointment. I wish to heal this between us, but I am scared brother.” Fenris admitted. 

“Then that makes two of us,” confessed Aeolus. “Would you prefer you had found me weeping?”

“No! I don’t want your tears. I also didn’t want to find you and have you look upon me as nothing, as if I might as well be dead or gone from your sight.” Fenris replied.

Aeolus sighed softly. “Brother, perhaps you should have spoken to Isabela,” he smiled sadly. “She broke me of my instinctive urge to kneel when I had erred or transgressed, but some reactions I have never entirely been able to shake off. You have been free longer than I, Fenris.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “No, you were not nothing to me,” he whispered softly. “In that moment, it was _I_ who felt as nothing. You saw merely the mask I wear to protect myself.”

“I might have been free longer but I am not any better than you at it. Look at me, chained by my emotions and failure still. I just want to have my older brother again.” Fenris admitted. 

Aeolus slid down the wall of the alcove to sit upon the floor as he threaded a tattooed hand through his hair with a low groan. “What have we done to each other, Leto?” he sighed. “How did it ever come to this?”

“I don’t know Aeolus, I think life has happened to us and in turn it has damaged us.” Fenris said. He gave his sibling a grin. “I think I will pass on trying to talk with Isabela about such things, after all you saw me break down in tears over things.” 

Aeolus got to his feet then took a seat at the table opposite his brother. “ _Venhedis_ , I need a drink,” he muttered to himself as he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.

“I think I need to leave drink alone for a while, it does nothing for my disposition.” Fenris said. He looked up to this brother. “May...I confess something?” he asked quietly.

Aeolus lifted his head slightly. “Go on,” he replied.

“I fear the demon’s influence is still somehow preying on my mind. My behavior has not always been great but, the ways I have acted, how I’ve felt? I worry it still has done things to me still.” Fenris looked down, afraid Aeolus would take actions in his own hands again. 

Aeolus shrugged. “We have no way of knowing how far back you fell under its influence,” he pointed out. “In Arden’s case he had been under the despair demon’s influence for possibly months, you told me; likely Zevran also. Zevran was still showing signs of it for some time afterwards, was he not? It is certainly clear to me that Arden has not entirely thrown off his despair.” He lowered his gaze to the table. “Very clear indeed,” he sighed. “And recent events have not aided that one whit - and I include my own grievous error in that.”

“I do not wish to go into the Fade if I am still under it's influence. As much as I hate it, I must admit that my power makes me dangerous. If something takes me over, I could slaughter all of you while it has me. That makes me afraid; what if I hurt you, my children, my husbands?” Fenris couldn’t help the awkward giggle that escaped him. He covered his mouth so he wouldn’t start laughing at the wrong things.

Aeolus looked up at him, bewildered. “You... think this some laughing matter, brother?” he said slowly, perplexed. He straightened and sat back in his chair, regarding Fenris with a small frown. 

Fenris shook his head and tried to gather his wits. “No, it’s not funny at all, but if I start laughing, it will turn to tears very shortly.” 

“You think perhaps you should remain behind, then?” Aeolus asked. “That you pose such a threat to them you would rather watch them go into danger without you?”

“No, I will see this through and if I survive? I’ll ask Anders to check me over to see if there’s anything else wrong with me.” Fenris said softly, his expression serious once more. “I want a drink now, despite what I said earlier.”

Aeolus glanced around and spotted a couple of bottles of wine left on a nearby table; rising, he walked over to check if either had any wine left. One held only dregs, but the other was almost full. He brought it back to the table and took a long pull directly from the bottle, then set it down in the middle of the table for Fenris to drink.

“Thanks.” Fenris said before taking a long pull and passing it back. “Are we ok, or getting there?” he asked hopefully. 

“Getting there, I think,” replied Aeolus before taking another mouthful of wine. He swallowed and passed the bottle back. “I think perhaps only time will do the rest. I am... still hurt and saddened, but... I want there to be peace between us, brother.” He suddenly groaned and buried his face in his folded arms on the table. As Fenris blinked at him, Aeolus continued, his voice muffled. “I have to face Invictus and Zevran and apologise to them also. Dumat, I was such a fool. Arden was so disappointed in me. I hurt him as much as everyone else.”

Fenris simply arched an eyebrow at his brother’s words. “Are you prepared for them to not accept your apology? Well, Invictus might well scream and run from you, considering what happened last time.” 

Aeolus lifted his head just enough to peer up at his brother through his hair. “The chance of their refusal is no reason not to offer,” he replied.

“I know, I was asking if you are prepared to hear a refusal of the apology is all.” Fenris said. 

Aeolus snorted. “I don’t have any choice, brother,” he pointed out. “I don’t have the right to demand they accept it, after all; only the duty to offer it, unreserved and willing. The choice of how to react is entirely theirs.” He regarded Fenris thoughtfully as he reached for the bottle again. “Just as the choice to forgive you and the others was entirely Arden’s,” he pointed out before taking another mouthful of wine.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at what he took as a mild verbal jab, but didn’t say anything, he just held his hand out for the bottle. There was no rancour in his brother’s eyes however as Aeolus passed the bottle back. Then the older elf buried his head in his arms and groaned again. “I should get this over with sooner rather than later,” he muttered, voice muffled once more.

“Good luck, I’m going to find Zevran and see if I can have a good end to my day.” Fenris said quietly. “Thank you for talking with me, you didn’t have to do brother.” 

Aeolus straightened again. “I may as well come with you and get my apology to him out of the way,” he shrugged. Then perhaps you may consoling him afterwards with an adequate distraction, eh?” He smiled ruefully.

“If he needs consolation, I don’t know that _that_ would help.” Fenris said as he waited for Aeolus to join him before going back into the hall to go and find Zevran. 

They found Zevran alone in the parlour; Anders was still off somewhere with Isabela and Varric, and from the sounds of splashing coming from the bathing chamber, it seemed Invictus had decided to avail himself of the large tub whilst he had it all to himself.

Zevran was resting on one of the couches, his stiff leg stretched out as he rested his back against the arm, reading a missive. A white crow was perched on the back of the couch; she ducked her head and screamed at them both as they entered. Zevran glanced up with a smile for Fenris that became frozen when Aeolus stepped out from behind his brother.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” he said quietly. “You have brought company.”

“If you will hear him, Aeolus wishes to speak to you _amatus_.” Fenris replied just as quietly. 

Zevran glanced to the tattooed elf, a wary look in his eyes before his expression became guardedly neutral. “You appear to have me at a disadvantage,” he said quietly as he gestured to his leg. The walking stick was resting against the side of the couch in easy reach of his hand; he reached for it and with an effort rose to his feet.

“So,” he said, tilting his head to one side. “I presume this concerns a little matter of that visit you paid to me after your little discussion with Invictus, yes?” He gestured to his throat. “As you see, the bruises have almost faded, but I am curious to hear what you have to say about them.”

Aeolus walked slowly to stand before Zevran. Despite being shorter than his younger brother, the Tevinter elf still stood half a head taller than Zevran, who stared up at him warily. Then Aeolus bowed slowly to him.

“Zevran Arainai Hawke, I apologise for my transgression against you. I took matters into my hands that were not mine to take, and you should not have been the target of my wrath.” Keeping his head bowed, he added quietly, “I am sorry.”

Zevran glanced to Fenris, then back to Aeolus. “I... see,” he said softly. “And what am I to do with this apology?”

Aeolus straightened slowly. “That is your choice,” he replied, his voice even and quiet. “You are the wronged party. It is not for me to say how you should feel or react.”

Zevran regarded him thoughtfully. “Very well,” he said softly. “I accept your apology.” He glanced over to Fenris. “ _Carissimi_ , I think I prefer to retire to our room. Will you join me there when you are done with your brother?”

“Of course.” Fenris said as he watched Zevran for some sign on how he felt but could pick up nothing as the slighter elf turned and left. He looked to his brother, unsure what else he wanted. 

“I think Invictus is in the bath, though I doubt he would welcome your apology while he is alone and without someone at his side.” Fenris said quietly.

“Would you wait then, and be there for him, Leto?” asked Aeolus. “Or should I wait outside perhaps for Anders and Varric?”

“I will tell him you are here, and see if he wishes to speak with you.” Fenris made his way to the bathing chamber and made enough noise so Invictus would know he was there. “Vic?” 

“That you, Fenris?” called back the mage, over the sound of splashing. “Come on in, love!”

“Yes, love.” the elf said as he came around the tub and kissed Invictus. “Having a good time?” he asked as he perched on the edge. Invictus stretched out in the tub with a hedonistic groan.

“Yep, pretty good,” he nodded. “Would be even better if you came in to join me though, love! Zevran gone to sleep then?”

“Not yet, we have a visitor. Aeolus wishes to speak to you if you will hear him.” Fenris said with a careful look to his love. 

Invictus sat up with a large splash and twisted around to stare at Fenris.He shuddered though the water was not cold. “I’m not able to see him, I don’t trust that he won’t take my magic again, damn near rip my heart out. I’m sorry love, I know he’s your brother and he’s trying but I can’t, not yet.” 

“I understand, I’ll let him know and then join Zevran and I in bed, I am in a … mood if you both will indulge me.” Fenris said with another kiss for his husband before returning to his brother.

“Vic isn’t ready, whatever you did to him has affected him greatly. Maybe later, but for now he asks you to hold your apology until he can hear you.” Fenris said. 

Aeolus bowed his head, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I cannot say I blame him,” he sighed. “Very well. I shall wait until he asks for me.” He glanced up at Fenris. “Please let him know I truly _am_ sorry, Leto, and I shall wait until he permits me to make my apology in person.”

“I will let him tell you himself, I will not get in the way of you two making amends, or not. The look on his face told me how ready he is to hear you.” Fenris said quietly. “I’ll see you later brother; say hello to Isabela from me.” 

Aeolus nodded. “I think she was planning to go visit with Hal and Arden for a while. I’ll go look. And... Leto?” He gave him a sad, wistful smile. “Thank you.” He turned and left, his footsteps slow.

Once Aeolus had left, Fenris went into the bedroom to find Zevran stretched out with a sheet barely covering him, and Invictus at the looking glass, trying to do something with his beard. 

“Feeling alright?” Fenris asked as he started to pull his clothes off, glad to be out of the stiff dress jacket and trousers as he approached the bed. “Zev?” he asked as he approached the blond elf. He frowned when the Antivan didn’t turn or respond. “ _Carissimi_?” he asked as he crawled across the bed to his husband.

Zevran lay on his back, staring off to one side, his expression blank save for a faint crease of his forehead. His hands rested upon his waist, the only sign of movement the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the flutter of his pale eyelashes each time he blinked.

“Zev?” Fenris called again, worried at the elf’s lack of response. 

Invictus watched them in the mirror, slowly working on trimming his beard. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, though he was concerned for Zevran’s silence. 

Zevran blinked, then turned his head upon the pillow to glance at Fenris; after a moment, a wan smile curved his lips. “Hello, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly.

“Are you alright? I fear when you seemed adrift like that. Do you wish me to leave you alone?” Fenris asked. 

“No... please stay,” replied Zevran. “I... find myself at a loss, _carissimi_. This apology from your brother... I do not know how to feel about it. I am not sure... what I _should_ feel.” He stretched out a hand towards Fenris in silent entreaty.

“I know this pain, as it took me a long time to mull over his own apology to me. Especially since it came after he discovered Arden’s displeasure at what he did. Take your time love.” Fenris said as he cuddled next to Zevran and held him. 

Zevran curled up against him, his head resting upon Fenris’ shoulder. “I feel as though I should feel _something_ , but... Perhaps I am simply too tired and in too much pain. It was hard to stand for so long, and I did not sleep so well last night.”

“Do you need to rest mi _amatus_? Do you need Anders?” Fenris asked quietly. 

“Anders... yes, I think perhaps I need our love’s healing hands, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran nodded. 

“I’ll be back in a bit.” Fenris said before finding clothes and heading off to find their husband. Invictus watched him go before giving up on his beard and joining Zevran. “May I hold you?” he asked quietly.

Wordlessly, Zevran nodded and stretched out a hand to the mage; as Invictus sat upon the bed, the Antivan silently curled up around him, moving slightly stiffly.

“I wasn’t able to face him by the way, I don’t blame you for being conflicted love.” Vic said quietly as he stroked the blond elf’s hair. 

“I felt... vulnerable,” Zevran confided quietly. “You know I am never unarmed; yet he found me in pain, resting my leg, and he... he looms, _mi amor_. Not perhaps the way his brother does, but... ah, my love, I do not like this. He did not even particularly hurt me, you know? But I know he could have. And I knew that Anders would not be able to stop him. I was also afraid in case he might go for our love also - and that I would not be able to protect him. His coming to me so soon after Anders was poisoned....” He closed his eyes and turned his face away. “I should have been stronger,” he whispered.

“Stop that, you are right to be worried. I hid in the damned bath so I can’t even talk. You’re strong, and you beat me with a broken leg and half- out of your mind in pain so don’t talk of being strong.” Vic said as he turned Zevran’s face back towards him. 

Zevran sighed. “I am not myself, _mi amor_ ,” he confessed.

“What do you need to feel more yourself?” Vic asked but Fenris returned before their husband had a chance to reply. “Ah, maybe you can tell me after Anders looks you over?” 

Anders strode swiftly into the room, his blue over-robe billowing around him as he went. He stripped it off and let it drop to the floor as he climbed onto the bed. “Zevran? Fenris told me you need healing; what’s up, love?” His hands were already glowing blue with healing magic.

Zevran regarded him wearily. “Ah, my heart, it is ever the same thing I fear,” he sighed. “Though the work you have done with Hal and Pin’s help has lessened it, the pain troubled me much today.”

Anders sighed as he laid his hands gently on Zevran’s leg. “You should have said something, love,” he chastised the elf fondly. “Someone would have fetched you a chair so you didn’t have to stand - and you didn’t even take your stick with you! Your obstinacy doesn’t do you any favours sometimes, Zevran.”

“And should I be the only one sitting when all others were able to stand?” replied Zevran a little acerbically. Anders glanced up and gave him a stern look.

“When none of the others were in pain or still recovering slowly from a bad break and extensive trauma to the leg?” he pointed out. “Yes, you should have sat. No-one would have thought any the less of you, love.” He sighed and shook his head. “Zevran, I’m afraid sometimes you just have to listen to your body and respect its limitations.”

The elf frowned. “As you do not, _mi cuore_?” he replied. Anders smiled ruefully.

“Alright, point taken,” he conceded. He glanced up at Invictus. “Help me get him comfortable on his stomach, love? I want to work on his back. I think a lot of his pain is due to stress on his spine from trying to compensate for his leg.”

“Of course.” Vic said as he gently got Zevran rolled over and stretched both his legs out so Anders could work. He went over to Fenris and put his arms around the elf. 

“You ok love?” he whispered in the elf’s ear.

“A little emotional, I mean my little girl got married today.” Fenris replied quietly. 

“And we all gained a new daughter,” smiled Anders, not looking up as he worked on Zevran’s back. He’d called up grease with a small spell and was massaging the elf’s spine with long, firm, steady strokes as he directed healing into the worst areas.

“You need anything while Anders works on his back love?” Vic asked wistfully. 

“I ...wanted to have a night of giving up control but I don’t think anyone is up for giving me what I want now.” Fenris said quietly. “Besides, we don’t have all of our things here that I’d want to play with.” 

“I’m sure Zevran’s got one or two toys in his pack, love,” Anders said, then frowned as his fingers worked at a particularly stubborn knot. Zevran hissed softly as his fingers curled into the pillow beneath his head; as Anders’ magic helped ease the contracted muscle and it relaxed, he exhaled with a sigh.

“Perhaps, but I am in the mood for rope and...pushing my limits with pain.” Fenris said quietly as he watched Anders and Zevran, his mind drifting to fond memories of Anders turning him to a quivering mess from his hands. At that moment, Anders’ strong fingers found another painful knot at the base of Zevran’s spine; the Antivan went rigid and gave an almost silent strangled gasp.

“Love, I’m sorry, this is a bad knot,” Anders said apologetically. He pressed a palm over it and channeled heat and healing into the twisted muscle that had gone into spasm. “Zevran, I’m not going to have any arguments from you - you are going to _rest_ tomorrow, am I clear?”

The Antivan was panting silently through the pain but nodded; as the muscle finally loosened he gave a low groan and relaxed beneath Anders’ hands, face buried in the pillow.

Fenris bit his lip and shifted against Invictus slightly. He pulled his mage’s arms around him and watched Anders taking care of their Antivan spouse. He wanted to change places if only for how good he knew Anders could make him feel.

“Be good, and maybe I’ll let you go after Zev.” Vic whispered in his ear before biting at Fenris’ neck. 

Anders was oblivious; he was working his way back up Zevran’s back with smooth, broad swipes of his hands in arcs on each side of the elf’s spine, directing heat down into the muscles to relax them. If the low, hedonistic groan coming from Zevran was any indication, it was succeeding. Anders shifted to straddle the elf’s hips carefully, keeping as much weight off him as possible, so he could reach Zevran’s shoulders; a faint, pleased whine escaped Zevran’s lips as he turned his face a little to the side. His eyes were closed, face a little flushed and sweaty, hair plastered to his brow and cheek. He was limp and relaxed, pliant beneath Anders’ hands now as the healer flexed and dug his fingers into the Antivan’s shoulders in smooth, rolling motions.

“He’s going to come it sounds like, without anyone doing anything to him. Do you want to feel that good love?” Vic asked as he let a hand slide down Fenris’ stomach, brushing against the loose ties to the elf’s pants. “Tsk, look at you, all hot and bothered just watching them.” 

“Yes..I am.” Fenris breathed as he tried to nudge Vic’s hand lower. 

“Ah ah love. All on my time, after all you said you were in a mood tonight. If you don’t want me to do this, say so and we can fuck later. Or you allow me to be in charge, your choice.” Vic said. 

Anders suddenly dug his nails into Zevran’s shoulders then raked them firmly down Zevran’s back, raising red welts as the Antivan gave a loud, shuddering moan then slowly began rutting mindlessly into the bedcovers.

“Uh... Vic? Can you pass me a towel?” asked Anders as he felt Zevran’s movement beneath him. “Either that or maybe you should turn over, Zev? This is about to get messy.”

“Go give him a towel and come back to me.” Vic ordered Fenris, who moved quickly as he could given how hard he was, tossing a towel to Anders before snuggling in Invictus arms. 

“Watch, look how he’s reacting and this wasn’t supposed to be sexy at first.” Vic held Fenris close, his hand inching back into the elf’s pants slow and easy. 

Anders shifted back and coaxed Zevran to lift his hips, then he deftly eased the towel beneath the elf before nudging him back down and straddling his hips again. Anders himself appeared to be sweating slightly now; he paused to strip his shirt off and tossed it aside carelessly, then lifted his hands and stared at his fingers. Fenris felt a subtle change in the magic Anders drew, and then lightning danced over his fingers in small arcs. He pressed his hands flat against Zevran’s shoulders then drew them down the elf’s back towards his hips and Zevran arched beneath him with a loud cry as he began to grind down against the towel before beginning to rut against it in earnest, his body shuddering.

“May I finish Zevran off?” Fenris moaned as he felt Vic’s hand slide down and stroke him slowly. 

“I don’t know, maybe ask Anders if you can, seems like he has it all under control. If you’re good, maybe you can suck him off to show appreciation for how good he made Zevran feel. Go on.” Vic pulled his hand free and nudged the tall elf over.

“Anders... can I join?” Fenris asked as he watched them. Zevran was writhing now beneath Anders as the mage shifted back to perch straddled over the elf’s thighs, kneeling up so as not to put pressure on the elf’s crippled leg. He was smoothing a hand down over the curve of the elf’s arse, his fingers slick with more grease, and as Fenris watched, Anders’ slender fingers smoothed down over Zevran’s entrance until he pressed two fingers slowly inside.

“Ah... ah!” Zevran was crying out now. “Oh, _mi cuore_ , yes... please, yes!”

Anders darted a sidelong glance at Fenris and smiled slyly as he worked his fingers in and out of Zevran, twisting his wrist slightly as Zevran shuddered and writhed, his breaths coming as high, panting cries. “What did you have in mind, love?” he asked quietly.

Fenris licked his lips as he watched Zevran coming undone. “May I ride Zevran while you or Vic fucks me? Please?” he jumped as he felt Invictus behind him, untying his pants and easing them down over his cock. “Both of you ...I want that so bad.” he arched up as Vic resumed stroking his cock.

“Can I put a ring on you, keep you from coming until we let you?” he asked while staring at Anders with a wicked grin. 

Anders frowned slightly. “I’d be worried about one of us inadvertently putting weight on Zevran’s leg,” he said slowly. He glanced down at Zevran and started working a third finger into him as he leaned forward to trail electricity down Zevran’s spine with the other hand; Zevran keened softly, slowly coming undone beneath Anders’ hands as he ground mindlessly against the towel, the fabric affording him much better friction. Anders curved his fingers as he twisted his wrist again, and Zevran gave a shuddering cry; Anders repeated the motion as he trailed more lightning down the Antivan’s spine.

“Whatever you want Vic, long as you want.” Fenris whined as he watched Anders totally take Zevran apart. The elven warrior stumbled when Invictus moved to get the bag he knew Zevran had him fetch. He stroked Fenris slowly while he got a cock ring around base, making sure it was snug before closing it. 

“Ok there?” he asked Fenris in a low voice.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Will you and Anders make me feel good?” he asked as he watched Zevran get close to coming. 

“Yeah, I think Zevran is going to be no good once Anders is done with him. We’ll both fuck you, make you scream for us, if you earn it.” Vic promised. 

Anders was panting slightly himself, and they could see the front of his pants tenting prominently as he worked Zevran over. The Antivan was now a writhing, keening, sweaty mess. “Shall I let him come, loves?” he murmured as he twisted his fingers inside Zevran now on every thrust, hitting Zevran’s sensitive spot with every stroke.

“Yes, he’s so close it would be cruel to keep him on edge. Besides, the sooner he comes the sooner we can play with Fen.” Vic said as he reached up and tugged at Fenris’ hair to get him to kneel. “He’s in a mood love, and I plan to enjoy it.” 

Fenris settled on his knees watching Zevran and trying not to think about the ring of leather around his cock and the hand pulling his hair. 

Anders trailed his hand down Zevran’s spine again, lightning crackling and dancing over his fingers and across Zevran’s back as his fingers thrust and twisted harder and faster; as his hand reached Zevran’s hips, he stared intently at Zevran. “Come,” he ordered in a firm, authoritarian voice; and like that, Zevran came hard with a hoarse, broken cry, his voice cracking as he spent himself against the towel, shuddering, before slowly going limp as Anders’ hand slowed and he pressed healing magic soothingly through his spine into the small of Zevran’s back. As Anders slowly withdrew his fingers, Zevran gave a low, exhausted yet satisfied moan as he went limp, utterly ennervated.

Vic let go of Fenris’ hair and nudge him towards the bed. “Clean up Zev, don’t miss a single drop.” he ordered with a grin. He watched Fenris crawl onto the bed and roll Zevran over to find he was a sticky mess all over his stomach. 

“Don’t make him wait.” Vic said when Fenris paused slightly before bending down to lap at Zevran’s cock to start. The Antivan was limp and utterly pliant beneath Fenris, his eyes only half-open, a dreamy, exhausted yet peaceful expression upon his face.

Anders shifted to rise from the bed and moved to a chair, still panting, to wipe off his fingers before he bent to unlace his boots then slowly tug them off. Setting them aside, his hands went to the laces of his pants, pushing them down enough to free his cock. Reaching down to cup his balls, he began to pump his cock slowly as he watched Fenris, his face beaded with sweat, flushed, his own eyes half-closed; he gave a long, low guttural groan. “Fenris,” he whispered.

The elf looked up at him, then to Invictus who gave him a nod. “Yes Anders?” he asked with a lick of his lips. 

“Want you to ride me,” murmured Anders as he gazed at the elf, his fist moving faster over his cock. He let his head fall back as he gave another moan.

“I haven’t finished cleaning Zevran like Vic told me to.” he said with a meek look, totally ruined by the grin he couldn’t hide. 

“He wants you to ride him, that’s more important. I’ll take care of Zevran while you attend our husband.” Vic said as he approached the bed with a wet flannel to clean their Antivan husband off. Zevran’s eyes had slid closed, and as Invictus cleaned him up, he realised the elf had fallen asleep, utterly exhausted after being so thoroughly wrecked under Anders’ skilled hands.

Anders rose to his feet, fixing Fenris with an intent stare as he moved to the bed. He slid his pants slowly down to his ankles then kicked them off before stretching out upon the bed beside Zevran; he reached down and began tugging at his cock, slicking it with another grease spell as he pumped slowly with his fist.

“Maker, Vic,” he groaned. “Are you going to take Fen with me as he rides me, or are you going to fuck me as I fuck him?”

“I’m taking him with you, he’s been good so far and even lapped up Zevran like a good boy.” Vic said as he watched Fenris carefully for a reaction to be his words. They’d worked out things he would allow Vic to say in bed, but he liked to be sure.

Fenris glanced up and smiled at them. “I’m a very good boy Vic.” agreed. 

Anders arched his neck as he closed his eyes. “Better prepare yourself then,” he murmured, still pumping at his cock, his breath coming faster. He’d slipped a couple of fingers into himself and was fucking himself slowly on one hand as he steadily thrust his hips into his other hand. “Because I’m feeling so good right now....”

“Yes... Anders.” Fenris moaned as he watched his husband carefully before getting a vial of oil and prepping himself, though he still felt good from their earlier play. He passed back the vial before straddling Anders’ hips. “Can I please have your cock?” he asked huskily. 

Anders thrust his fingers deeper to touch his sweet spot inside and arched his back with a shuddering moan before he withdrew his fingers, reaching over to wipe them on the towel. Then he called up more grease in his palm and slicked his cock until it was dripping. “Fenris....” he moaned.

“Anders…” Fenris said as he settled in position and slipped Anders’ cock back until the head was right at his entrance. “May I please have your cock, I need you.” he whimpered, holding himself up until given permission.

“Hmm, we need a word that isn’t one that bothers Anders or me. How submissive are you feeling?” Vic asked as he knelt behind them, stroking his cock as he watched them.

“Very...told you, I want pain, and rope if you will allow it, maestro.” Fenris breathed. 

“Call me _Mester_ and you may have my cock,” breathed Anders. His voice had taken on more of an Anderfels accent as he slowly lost himself; his eyes were only half-open and glazed. “But be swift; I am very close....”

“Yes, _Mester_ , yes!” Fenris said before he sunk down on Anders cock with a happy, loud moan. He started to rise up and down on the blond before he felt Vic’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on, let me get in with him. Then we’re going to fuck you senseless, you want that?” Vic asked him as he pushed Fenris forward so he could work himself into the elf alongside their husband. 

“ _Mester_! My.. _Mythal_...” he gasped as he felt Invictus’ cock opening him up more, filling him far more than he’d been in a while. Fenris whimpered as he felt them both filling him. 

“Ah, so good... so tight...” moaned Anders as he held still, his body quivering as he held back on the almost overwhelming urge to thrust up into Fenris.

The elf’s eyes closed as he felt Invictus at his back, slowly withdrawing a bit then sliding back into him. “Maker… please, please, please!” he begged before he felt Anders thrust slowly in counter to Invictus. 

“ _Mester_ I’ll do any - anything, fuck.” he begged.

Anders started to move faster and Invictus duly sped up as Anders reached a hand to tweak and pinch his own nipples, arching his neck with a groan.

Invictus reached between them and flicked the head of Fenris’ cock as he fucked the elf along with their husband. “I wanna watch you come for us, after we fill your ass. I..oh fuck.” Vic broke off as he felt Anders cock twitch against his. 

“I’ll do whatever you tell me, anything, just don’t stop.” Fenris moaned as he felt Vic’s arm around him holding him while he was fucked in tandem by each of them. “ _Mester_ ...do..domne. Please!” he all but sobbed. 

“Oh... Fenris ... _szeretlek ... szeretlek mindkettő_ ....” moaned Anders as he writhed beneath Fenris, little shudders running through him as he unthinkingly drifted back into his mother tongue. _I love you... I love you both...._ He sighed, his voice shivering with want. 

Vic bit the elf’s shoulder as he thrust faster and faster along with Anders. “Gonna put that toy Zev used in you and then you can come while you’re full and still feeling us.” he rasped in the elf’s ear as he felt himself getting close.

Fenris moaned as he let himself just feel their cocks filling him over and over. He wanted to come so bad, to the point he started begging in Tevene for release as they pushed him close to the edge. 

Anders was giving little panting cries with each thrust, his body sheened with sweat. “Orgazmusra megyek... Maker... g-gonna... gonna come...” he whimpered.

“Come love, come on give it up for me.” Vic asked as he let his own strokes match Anders while Fenris begged them for release in Tevene, even a bit of Antivan as he got fucked senseless. “Dom..domne, let me come, please.” he whined. 

“ _Gyere értem!!_ Come for me, Fenris!” ordered Anders, in a voice that brooked no dissent though it cracked upon Fenris’ name. 

Vic reached down and unsnapped the cock ring at Anders’ command and bit down on Fenris’ neck. “You heard him.” 

The elf came with a loud ragged cry, his spend splattering up Anders’ chest and throat, splashing his face as Anders clenched his eyes shut; it was in the blond mage’s hair, and Anders licked his lips and then the mage came himself with a shudder, mouth wide open in a silent scream, his cock throbbing against that of Invictus. The former Champion felt a sudden hot, wet slickness against his own cock as Anders spent himself deep inside Fenris before he fell back against the pillows, chest heaving with ragged breaths as his heart raced.

Invictus sped his thrusts so he could fill the elf as well, his thrusts slowing as he softened and laid against Fenris’ back. “How you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t stop, please Vicky.” Fenris mumbled as he tried to stay upright and not fall down on Anders as he tried to calm himself. 

“Easy love, gonna pull out and get a toy if you need anything else ok?” Vic mumbled. 

Anders was panting, his heart steadily losing its frenetic pace. His eyes flickered as he tried to open them; he licked his lips slowly, tasting Fenris’ seed. He smiled languidly.

“Toy...please.” Fenris moaned as he finally rolled to the side and stretched out and languished with a pleased rumble. 

“Ok love.” Vic padded over to get the toybag Zevran had him bring. He oiled a large, thick phallus and slid it into Fenris, slowly fucking the elf as he whimpered for more.

Anders wiped a hand across his eyes, clearing as much of the sticky mess from his face as he could, then rose from the bed and headed towards the bathroom, his footsteps stumbling a little. A little while later he reappeared, his hair wet but his face and body clean as he slowly towelled his hair. He dropped the towel as he reached the bed and sprawled out alongside Zevran; watching drowsily as his eyes slowly fluttered half-closed, his breathing slowing. He slid into sleep to the sound of Fenris’ high-pitched panting cries.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal's makes a hard choice, things don't go well and returning to Adamant has everyone in a less than stellar mood.

Fenris opened his eyes to find Zevran curled around him, Anders still sleeping soundly behind the Antivan elf and Invictus already up. He sat against the headboard, regretting it as he felt how sore he was from their fun the previous night. He stared at Anders and Zevran for awhile, thinking on how they looked together; the two of them cuddled close as if they were made for each other.

He thought about Invictus and himself, how they used to fit like that before Mythal’s blessing, or curse as he thought of it. How nice it was to wake up to his lover’s arms around him, the sleepy kisses goodmorning before Anders, then Zevran joined them. He felt overwhelmed for a moment, glad for his loves and that they forgave him. He leaned over to kiss both Anders and Zevran before heading for a bath and a healing potion. They were to leave for Adamant and he needed to get his mind on battle before they met up with everyone.

He found Invictus had finished up and was refilling the tub as he entered. “You’re up before me, that’s a first love.” Fenris said to his mage.

“I was too warm, and you were snoring for a change.” Vic teased gently. 

“I do not snore, that’s Anders.” Fenris huffed as he filled a bucket to rinse off. 

“As you say love, as you say. Enjoy your bath, I’ll get our sleepyheads up for their bath while you’re in here.” Vic leaned in to kiss him before slipping away to get them going. It was going to be a long day of riding with a few more ahead before they reached their target. 

Anders was still curled around Zevran, his face buried in the sleeping Antivan’s hair, one arm wrapped around the elf’s waist. Zevran was half curled up, a peaceful expression upon his face, the lines of care and pain wiped away by sleep. Invictus found himself loath to disturb them; but even as he reached towards Anders, the mage stirred and lifted his head to blink sleepily at him. 

“Hi love, sleep well?” Vic asked as he sat next to his spouse.

Anders smiled drowsily as he rolled over onto his back. “What time is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

“Sun’s not quite up, we have to get on the road early remember love? Fenris is finishing up a bath, and likely could use a bit of healing after last night’s fun.” Vic leaned in to kiss Anders awake. 

Anders groaned at mention of the early start. “Maker, please tell me there’s coffee?” he pleaded. 

“I’m sure there’s some in the war room, we have to meet there before getting on the road. Come on and get going, Fenris will linger in the bath all morning if we let him.” Vic laughed as he offered a hand for the other mage to get up. 

Anders sat up slowly and groaned as he stretched and his back audibly cracked. Beside him, Zevran was stirring, one hand rubbing at his eyes. 

“I do not miss these early starts,” the Antivan muttered. 

. “Nor do I, but hopefully we can put this all behind us after this battle. I tired of fighting long ago and I miss our home. Up you gets.” Vic said with a laugh at his love’s plight. 

“Alright there Zev?” Vic asked as he rose up and pulled Anders with him. 

“ _Si_ ,” nodded the elf as he swung his legs over the side of the bed then rose, stretching much as Anders had though with less cracking. “Though I shall be better for coffee too.” 

“Come on, both of you get a bath while I get our husband dressed and fed before he falls back asleep in the water.” Vic said as he went to hurry Fenris out of the bath before he could doze off.

“Come on sleepyhead before you drown.” Vic said as he nudged the half-awake elf.

“Not asleep, go away.” Fenris mumbled as he tried to turn away and wound up swallowing water and sitting up suddenly.

“Uh huh, get out so Anders and Zevran can get the last hot bath they’ll have for a while.” Vic pulled Fenris to his feet and handed him a towel. He could hear Anders and Zevran talking quietly in the other room, Anders exclaiming at something Zevran said with a groan before there was a tap at the door of the bathroom. 

“Everything alright in there?” Anders called, his voice muffled by the door. 

“Yeah, except our beloved spouse almost drowned himself. Come in love.” Vic said as he tried to help their grumpy elf get dried off. 

“I didn’t almost drown myself, go get dressed Vic.” Fenris muttered as he took the drying cloth from his husband. 

Anders poked his head around the door. “Did you fall asleep in the bath?” He grinned. “I thought it was only me who did that.”

“No.” Fenris grumbled. 

“Yes, he did, ” Vic said before he got swatted with a wet towel. “Shoo, get coffee so you can stop being a grumpy bastard.” the former First Enchanter said as he hustled Fenris to the door.

Anders stepped back out of the way. “Zevran’s sent for coffee,” he mentioned with a shrug. “I figured we could all do with it.”

“True, I know I feel a little groggy this morning, and I’m sure someone could use a bit of healing after last night.” Vic said with a nod to their elven spouse who was carefully lacing up his trousers. 

“I think we all do,” sighed Anders as he rubbed an eye blearily. “Maker, I’m getting too old for these early starts.” He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the early start, it's the late night and getting shagged senseless that has me hurting.” Fenris quipped as he tried to reach for his boots. “Maybe I should take a potion.” he muttered. 

“Love?” Vic queried as he knelt down to help with his boots.

“No, it’s alright; I may be still half asleep but I can still heal you fine, Fenris,” said Anders as he blinked at the elf, his eyes still a little unfocused. “And I’m sure coffee will take care of the rest.” 

“That will teach me my limits.” Fenris said as he let Invictus help him. “Coffee and food, I could eat a bronto.” 

Vic finished buckling the elf’s boots before rising and giving him a quick kiss. “Hurry up or you’ll get scraps love.” 

“There is coffee on the table,” said Zevran as he stuck his head around the door. He smirked at Anders. “Come, my heart - you should have coffee or else you, too, will risk drowning yourself in the bath, no?”

Anders groaned and rolled his eyes as he obediently followed the Antivan back into the other room.

Fenris poured himself a cup and settled into a chair with a sigh. “The Maker hates us, or Meneris does.” he mumbled after a few sips of coffee.

“Pretty sure it's both some days.” Vic agreed as he filled a cup for Anders, Zevran and then himself. 

“That’s just me he hates on occasion. He likes the rest of you.” Fenris said as he glanced at his spouses. 

Zevran glanced up at him with a faint frown before glancing at Anders, who was staring absently into his coffee and evidently not paying much attention. He looked up belatedly and Zevran caught his eye; as the elf smiled at him, the mage automatically smiled back at him.

“Hmm, sorry? Was lost in my own thoughts,” Anders mused. His smile fell. “Maker, I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to Ellowynne.”

“Ah, I too am dreading that, my heart,” admitted Zevran.

“I wish I could convince Pin and Callus to stay back. I have no desire to see them possibly fall before us.” Fenris said before he got to his feet and got the rest of his gear. 

“They will be fine, they’ve trained with the best in Thedas. Callus has been trained by our own husband, and Anders is no slouch in combat. I trained Marian and Garrett, they will be ok.” Invictus gave them a grin before getting another helping of coffee. 

Zevran reached out and rested a hand on Anders’ forearm. “Come. Let us go make our farewells to Ellowynne quickly now, so she may get her tears out of the way all the faster, yes? And then perhaps she will be able to see us all off afterwards?”

Anders frowned slightly. “Perhaps. Children don’t -”

Zevran leaned forward and laid a finger against his lips, silencing him. “Do not borrow trouble, my heart,” he said softly. “She is no ordinary child, remember? She was a child of the Tower, and you know as well as I what such children can handle. She has made farewells before and endured them. Come.”

Anders stared at him almost sullenly for a moment, then nodded; only then did Zevran lower his hand to rise to his feet.

Fenris watched them go quietly before he turned back to his preparations. He nearly jumped when Invictus wrapped his arms around him. “Sorry, guess I’m a little anxious.”

“I know you’re scared Fen, especially with your kids coming along. You heard Zev about Ellowynne, they aren’t little kids and hell they’re frightening on their own. They’re your children Fenris, they will be great. Besides, I don’t think Pin will risk her wife’s wrath by going out and getting killed. Come on, let’s get ready so we can meet everyone at the gate.”

Fenris turned in his arms and gave him a brief kiss. “I don’t want to lose them, I’m scared of that more than anything. If I see them...if they die on the field, it will kill me too.” 

Anders and Zevran were gone for long enough that Fenris and Invictus were starting to grow concerned that they would be late returning before they were all due to muster in front of the keep; Invictus was about to suggest going to look for them when Zevran and Anders returned. The mage strode swiftly towards the bedroom, his eyes glimmering with tears, and he was swiftly pursued by Zevran who gestured to them to wait a moment as he caught the door before it could slam shut behind the mage.

He reappeared a couple of moments later and drew a breath. “Parting was not easy for either father or daughter,” he explained quietly; the faint sound of stifled sobs was muffled by the door behind him. “Give him a few minutes and he will be himself again.”

“Of course, that couldn’t have been easy.” Fenris said quietly as he approached Zevran and held him. “I am worried for him.” 

“He will be at ease in a little while, and happier for knowing she will be safe here in Skyhold. Becky and Parcival will raise her as their own should anything happen to he or I.” Zevran sighed. “There is genuine affection between her and Becky, and the good former Sister Rebecca has had much too much experience of consoling orphans. I pray she will have no more practice at it upon our accounts.” He paused, then inclined his head. “Ah, just so - you hear; he is silent now. Give him a few moments longer and he will be himself once more. Come - is there any coffee left in that pot?” 

“I think so, I will pour you more.” Fenris started to fix it how Zevran liked but was stopped by the elf. 

“Not for me, but for Anders,” said the Antivan quietly. “He has need of it, I think.”

“Ah, of course.” Fenris made it just as their mage spouse preferred his coffee and took it in to him. “Anders?”

The blond mage had his back to the door; he didn’t turn as Fenris entered, instead continuing to wash his face in the basin upon the small table. He cleared his throat quietly.

“Fenris. I’ll be out in a moment, love. I think I’m done packing.” He nodded at his travel pack; the elven warrior noticed that Anders was wearing his old Warden armour, his staff strapped on his back already. He blinked, realising Anders must have been losing weight again without their realising it, for the old armour fitted him perfectly. 

“Your armor looks good on you. Here, I brought you coffee.” Fenris said quietly. 

Anders snorted as he reached up to tie his long hair back with a scrap of cloth. “This armour has seen almost as much action as I have, and the years have been far kinder to it than they have to me.” He turned around and gave Fenris a self-conscious grin. “Thanks, love; I need it.”

As he reached for the coffee, Fenris suddenly realised that Anders’ hair was half-grey, the blond hair streaked with the signs of age. He wondered how it was he’d not noticed it before, and wondered idly how grey his own hair would be by now if it hadn’t been turned prematurely white by the lyrium. Zevran’s hair was so fair that it was impossible to tell if he were also showing signs of his age; and of course he’d been aware of the sprinkling of pepper-grey in Invictus’ hair for years now - it always did show faster in black hair than any other colour.

Fenris reached up and caressed Anders face gently. “I love you, you know that right?” he said as he glanced at the other man with a sad smile. He wondered idly how long Anders might have left, if he was so grey already. 

Anders blinked then smiled, his eyes softening. “I love you too, Fenris,” he replied. “And not just because you bring me coffee when Maker knows, I needed it.” He leaned up to kiss Fenris. “And you’d think I’d be used to you being taller than me by now,” he added with a chuckle. “You’ve certainly turned the tables on me for how often I used to make you go on tiptoe to kiss me, haven’t you?” 

Fenris glanced away at the mention of his height. “I would trade in these changes for a chance to be my old self in a heartbeat. I miss having to rise up to kiss you.” he said quietly. 

“I think we both wish we could go back to how we were, love,” replied Anders sadly. His smile had become lopsided and no longer entirely reached his eyes. “Come on, I’d best down this quickly; they’ll be waiting for us outside.”

“Then you wouldn’t have Ellowynne and I wouldn’t have found Pin and Cal.” Fenris said as he pressed a hand against Anders chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to go into this battle with regret in my heart for how I’ve acted the last few weeks. I’m so sorry, and I am thankful you could forgive me.” he leaned against the other man and held him close for a moment. 

“How could I not?” asked Anders quietly. “I love you too much, Fenris. It hurt, but only because we _do_ love you. Maker, I’d give anything for us to be riding back to Nevarra instead of towards Adamant again.”

“I know, I guess I’m just feeling emotional because I thought we were done fighting. I want to be back in our home, in our bed, waking up to making the kids breakfast and working our land, not this. I’m so fucking tired of fighting Anders.” Fenris hugged his husband briefly and pulled away to wipe at his eyes. “We should get going before Meneris does come and yell at us, I don’t think I can take starting the journey like that.” 

As they left the keep and headed over towards where the grooms were holding horses for them all, Anders nodded towards the others waiting ready. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one crying this morning,” he murmured softly as he stared towards Hal and Arden. As Fenris glanced automatically to follow Anders’ gaze, he caught sight of the young red-haired man’s eyes, obviously red from crying, before Hal dropped his gaze down to his hands upon the reins.

Arden stared coldly at Fenris before turning to Hal, urging his horse closer to Hal’s with firm pressure from his knees as he reached over to lay a hand on the young man’s forearm; at this distance, they couldn’t hear what he said but Hal shook his head and turned his horse away, putting his heels to the dun mare’s flanks as he urged her over to their place in the company of riders.

“What the fuck did I do now?” Fenris snarled as he watched Arden turn from him. 

“At a guess, I should say Arden is angry upon Hal’s behalf,” said Anders slowly. “Love, did you and Hal have an argument?”

“I think it is less that they have argued, and more that they have _not_ argued,” said Zevran quietly. “In fact, I think it is perhaps that Fenris has said nothing to Hal of why he is avoiding him, and so Hal is distraught because he feels there has been an ending and yet he has not been _told_ that there is an ending.” He stared at Fenris, his gaze suddenly sharp. “Or am I wrong, _carissimi_?”

“I have not had a chance to speak to him, I am _not_ avoiding Hal.” Fenris snapped before heading over to the young mage.

As he made his way towards the redhead, Arden spurred his horse to place the black gelding between the elf and the young mage. He regarded Fenris coolly as he murmured something to Hal. After a moment, Hal lifted his head to glance at Arden, then at Fenris. He was still, and then gently he patted Arden’s arm before turning his mare and walking her towards the warrior.

As the mare drew closer, she tossed her head and snorted, and Fenris could see Hal’s eyes widen in alarm as he tightened his grip on the reins; and he remembered Anders’ comment a while ago that Hal was afraid of horses. Hal swallowed visibly, but managed to keep his horse under control, halting her as he drew level with Fenris. Even on horseback, he wasn’t that much taller than the warrior.

“Fenris,” he said quietly. 

“Hal, may we speak?” the elf asked with a glare for Arden. “Privately?”

Hal glanced back at Arden; they were some distance away from him, halfway between the doors of the keep and the main gate where the rest of the company were assembling; Anders and Zevran were hugging Ellowynne goodbye as Parcival and Becky waited nearby, Invictus already mounted as he waited with their horses. 

Hal turned back to Fenris. “I think this is as private as we’re likely to get for a while,” he shrugged. “We don’t have much time; Meneris is waiting.” 

“Shall we ride and talk then?” Fenris asked quietly, his gaze upon the other man intense. 

Hal smiled at him sadly. “Is this the part where you tell me it’s over between us, then? One last setting straight of things before we reach Adamant, in case one of us dies?” He glanced down at the dusty ground as his mare pawed the ground restlessly. “You’ll probably be OK,” he went on. “After all, you’re Mythal’s Chosen. I have the feeling -” He broke off, then shook his head. “No. It will do neither of us any good to talk of what may be and feelings and dreams now.”

Fenris couldn’t help the look of anguish and hurt that came over his face as he stared up at Hal. His breath hitched as he tried to keep tears at bay and not lose his temper. “I wished to speak with you, and, and ...tell you why I ran from you that day in the hall, why I have, failed you. But you wound me to the quick Hal, no more than I have harmed you I think. Please, allow me this. If not, I will not beg but I wished just to talk to you.” he blinked tears away and composed himself, barely. 

Hal closed his eyes and sighed softly, then opened them to meet Fenris’ gaze steadily. “What would you have of me, Fenris?” he asked. “The truth. Is it over between us? Have you decided for the both of us? Because I have felt you close yourself off from me, and I can’t think of anything I’ve said or done to make you treat me like this.”

“Dammit Hal, I wanted to talk. I have closed myself off from everyone not just you. I’ve been a damned mess for the last month and a half, and I wanted to talk to you about this, about how I have hurt you and _him_ by extension. If you won’t let me speak to you now, I’ll wait until we’ve made camp.” Fenris said in a low voice as he lost his grip on being calm. 

“I _am_ letting you speak, I just need to know -” Hal broke off as a horn sounded, and suddenly he had to focus his attention on the skittish mare as she started at the sudden sound. “Damn it, wretched beast!” he cried, his voice high with fear as he tried to bring her under control again. “Damn it all to the Void!”

Fenris took the reigns of Hal’s horse and got her settled with a few words and a firm hand. “Easy girl, easy, it’ll be ok. Just relax.” he murmured to the horse, waiting to make sure she was settled before letting Hal take the reins again. “I have to mount up, see you on the road.” he said quietly before mounting the dark brown mare that had been held for him.

Fenris was quiet and tense as he formed up with the others, brushing off attempts to ask what was wrong. 

Anders and Zevran were waving goodbye to Ellowynne as they rode under the great arch of the gate; up ahead, Arden had leaned over to take the reins of Hal’s horse and tied them to the pommel of his saddle; Hal was clutching the pommel of his own saddle, and Fenris could read the redhead’s misery clearly by the slump of his shoulders and the tenseness of his back.

As Anders and Zevran turned their gaze to the road ahead, Zevran tutted. “If he rides like that the whole day, then friend Hal will be very stiff and sore indeed by the time we make camp - and we have a long day’s ride ahead of us,” he observed.

“Maker, I’d best go speak to him when we stop in an hour or so,” Anders replied, shaking his head. “He’ll cripple himself if he doesn’t relax, and then he’ll be even more sore tomorrow.” He glanced over to Invictus. “Remember how he limped that first time we rode towards Adamant after the first day of riding? Still, at least he has the sense to wear pants instead of a robe this time.”

“He was not used to horses or any of that back then. Hopefully he’ll relax. Maybe you can go up to him once we are on the main road? Or whenever we stop, because he’ll be a mess of cramped back muscle soon.” Vic said as he glanced to Fenris before leaning over and whispering to Anders.

“One of us should keep an eye on Fenris, he’s kind of staring ahead and I’m worried that he’ll slide off or fall if his horse gets spooked.” Vic leaned back as they rode, hopeful nothing happened before they broke for a meal. 

“I’m less worried about Fenris falling off than I am Hal,” replied Anders with a shrug, “but I see what you mean - he seems to be staring at Hal and Arden and not really with us.” He glanced to Zevran. “Zev, you’re the best rider of the four of us - maybe you should ride alongside Fenris, just in case?”

The Antivan nodded, and spurred his horse forward, guiding the spirited white stallion over to trot beside Fenris. Though the white horse was shorter than Fenris’ mare by a couple of hands - the taller elf having been given one of the massive warhorses, as most other steeds in the stables were not tall enough for his legs - he was able to keep pace easily. Zevran glanced up at Fenris and grinned.

“ _Carissimi_ , that is a very fine mare that they have given you - but now I feel as though I am calling to you up a mountain! How does it feel to be above we mere mortals? There is enough room for two up there, I am thinking!” he called.

Fenris’ lip curled in a snarl as he continued to glare a hole in Arden’s back. “I’m not in the mood for jokes Arainai. I should have changed and flown ahead.” 

Zevran’s smile slipped slightly at the name. “Ah. So it is like that, eh, _carissimi_?” he said more quietly. “Then I would suggest you indeed take wing and hope it improves your mood, save that I think it would much alarm all the horses. But if you must, then go. I shall take your horse.”

“You know damned well if I changed it would cause a panic among the horses and soldiers. You know I have little tolerance for jokes about my height, but especially not with how things started off today.” Fenris said as he followed the trail and stared at Arden as if he could will the man to feel as bad as he did.

“How the day started gives you no excuse to treat me thus, Fenris,” retorted Zevran tersely. “It was not I who caused your bad mood and I will not take it thrown thus upon me. You know my way of joking and it is not a malicious thing. I was referring to your horse, not you - but if you choose to take insult against me then you may ride alone.” He spurred his horse on into a gallop and was shortly gone from view as he pulled the stallion off the trail and raced up ahead beside the company.

Anders frowned as he watched Zevran speeding from view. “Maker, what in the Void did Fenris do now?” he wondered. “It’s not like Zevran to take off like that.”

Fenris watched as Zevran raced away then dropped his face into his hands and let his horse follow the others, holding on to the reins as he fought the urge to actually take wing and get away from them all. 

Anders exchanged a worried look with Invictus then as one, they both urged their horses forward to ride either side of the warrior. 

“Fenris? What happened?” asked Anders. “Why did Zevran take off like that?”

“I snapped at him, and took my bad mood out on him. I just want to ride alone for awhile, please.” Fenris said before turning away and heading for the edge of the company, his hands on the reins as he tried to get himself together.

“What the Void?” Vic said as he started to follow but was checked by Anders’ hand on his shoulder. “He’ll get hurt riding like that.”

“Not as much as Zevran will be if he’s thrown from _his_ horse,” replied the blond mage. “Ride with the kids - I’m going after Zevran.”

“Sure thing, be careful love.” Vic called as Anders headed off to catch up with their Antivan husband. He fell back to ride next to Callus, though he watched farther up the line for what was going on.

Pin and Marian were watching wide-eyed as Anders’ horse suddenly took off at a gallop after Zevran, the former Warden rising up to stand in his stirrups as he leaned forward to crouch low over his horse’s neck. 

“ _Venhedis_ \- I had no idea he could ride like that!” Pin exclaimed.

“He’s the best one among us, Zevran is a close second.” Vic said as he watched the dust trail Anders left. “He said he grew up with horses, damn near rode before he could walk and I believe him.” 

Garrett glanced over at Callus. “I’ll wager you a sovereign he catches Zevran before a half mile,” he grinned.

“I’ll say a quarter mile, did you see how he took off?” Callus quipped before flashing a coin at the other young man. His smile dropped as he glanced to the side and caught sight of his father. 

“Where’s your sense of loyalty, Callus?” grinned Marian. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d bet against Master Zevran!”

“Hey, I know a good bet when I see one! Anders took off hell for leather, he’ll catch him sooner than later.” Callus grinned at his sister-in law. 

“Oh all of you leave off the betting against anyone. We’ve got enough to worry about right now.” Vic said as he fell in beside the younger mages and his step children. “Come on, we have a long way to go before we break for lunch and the day is just started.”

The company arrived at the village where they were to break for lunch to find Anders and Zevran waiting for them. Anders was sitting on a large stone, rubbing his head ruefully as Zevran regarded him with a slight frown. The village farrier was shoeing Anders’ horse outside his workshop a few feet behind them, the dappled grey gelding evidently having thrown a shoe in the wild race.

Invictus dismounted and came over to his spouses. “Anders? Did you fall, or did something happen?” he asked worriedly.

“My horse stumbled as he landed after a jump, and I was thrown over his neck,” Anders replied with a grimace. “Damned near knocked myself out. Thankfully Zevran noticed, or you’d have found me laying in the dirt about half a mile back.” He shook his head, disgusted with himself. 

“I’m just glad Zevran noticed. How are you feeling, do you need healing or a potion?” Vic asked as he knelt to check over the other mage. He glanced up at Zevran, unsure if the elf had anything to add. 

“I have already given him a potion, but perhaps Hal should check him over,” replied Zevran. “He yet feels dizzy.”

“I’ll be fine,” replied Anders, waving a hand dismissively. “Maker, and there was I chasing after you in case _you_ fell!”

“Well take it easy and I would feel better if Hal checked you over love, please?” Vic asked softly. “You know I can’t heal well and if you hurt your head again, I will worry.” 

Anders sighed then lowered his head to his hand. “Alright,” he said in resignation. “It wouldn’t do for me to have to be carted back to Skyhold with a head injury; the first time was quite bad enough.”

“Good, thank you love.” Vic said as he rose to find Hal. 

Almost as soon as Vic had gone in search of the younger mage, Fenris arrived, worried when he saw the way Zevran hovered near Anders, and he barely let the horse stop before dismounting and running over to check on him. 

“What happened? Why are you on the ground? Did you fall?” he asked as he knelt and reached out to his husband.

“Wasn’t paying attention, got thrown and knocked myself silly,” replied Anders, glumly. “Horse needed reshoeing. I was a bloody idiot and should have known better.”

“He fell hard and was unconscious for a few minutes,” said Zevran as he stared down at Anders. “His horse stumbled and landed badly. It was a simple accident. I had taken that same leap but two heartbeats before and had no trouble but his horse shied at the last moment and threw a shoe.” He glanced up at Fenris. “It would not have happened had we not been racing.”

“I told you, it wasn’t your fault, Zev,” snapped Anders, not looking up and thus unaware of the look passing between the two elves. “It -” He broke off. “I think I’m going to throw up,” he muttered.

Fenris glanced around before putting an arm around Anders and helping him move to a bush where he could throw up without half the company gawking at him. “I’m sorry, please be ok, please be ok.” the elf repeated as he held the mage up through being sick.

Anders spat then straightened slowly. “’m OK,” he managed to slur. “Just a concussion....”

Hal hurried over, Invictus a few paces behind - as were Meneris and Dorian. “Invictus told me what happened - Anders, sit down; let me see how bad it is,” he said as Fenris helped Anders to sit down again.

“You nearly had your skull caved in once, I’m worried about a head injury again.” Fenris sat next to Anders, taking his hand in his and rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. He refused to look at Hal as the young mage checked out his husband. 

Hal carefully checked Anders over then set to work to heal him. “Meneris,I don’t think Anders should ride any more today; I think he should ride in one of the supply wagons. I should stay with him to make sure there’s no lasting ill effects.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of having to ride?” Anders managed to smile. Hal frowned, glancing round at the others. He stared at Fenris, noting how the elf seemed to be avoiding his eye, then sighed as he turned his attention back to Anders.

“No, I think you landed hard on your head and had a nasty concussion, and you shouldn’t be on horseback - and someone needs to keep an eye on you in case you take a turn for the worse.” He stared at Anders sternly. “And I think you would insist on the same if our positions were reversed and I was the one hurt.”

Anders lowered his gaze. “You’re right,” he admitted. “Alright. I’ll ride in the wagon.”

“I shall ride just behind the wagon then,” stated Zevran. “I wish to also be near in case - should Anders need me.” 

Fenris glanced up at Zevran’s words and dropped his gaze the moment he made eye contact with Hal. He was not up to the conversation he’d tried to have before they departed and he certainly didn’t want to risk anyone else’s anger if he tried to stay with Anders. The elven warrior remained quiet, almost too quiet as he waited for someone to give orders.

“Well, if that’s settled, you’d best all have food whilst you can,” said Meneris tersely. “We move out in an hour.” He turned to Dorian. “Come on.”

Dorian glanced back at Fenris with a worried look before he followed Meneris away.

***

They moved out just a little over an hour later. Space was made in one of the wagons for Anders and Hal, their horses hitched to the rear of the wagon. Anders sat resignedly and stared back at the way they had come as the wagon lurched and rumbled along the dusty road; after a while, he sat back against one of the crates, folded his arms and lowered his head. Presently he began to snore quietly.

“He can sleep anywhere,” called Zevran with a smile as he guided his white stallion closer, the horse tossing its head and snorting at the dust kicked up by the wagon as it danced sideways, the Antivan checking its motion easily with his legs.

“I know, but it still astounds me every time,” replied Hal, shaking his head with a bemused smile.

Fenris found himself urging his own horse closer in spite of himself. Despite Hal’s assurances that Anders would be fine, he found he needed to observe the sleeping mage for himself. From his higher vantage point on the massive warhorse’s back he could see clearly into the wagon as the chestnut mare trotted a little behind Zevran’s spirited stallion.

Eventually Fenris made his way to trot next to Zevran, quietly peeking in on Anders while glancing at his husband. He cleared his throat and called to the other elf. “Zevran?”

The Antivan’s focus was upon the sleeping figure of Anders and upon guiding his own horse; for a moment he seemed not to have heard Fenris, until he finally murmured quietly, “ _Si, carissimi_?”

“I am sorry for snapping at you earlier.” the warrior said as they traveled. He glanced at the blond elf before looking at the road again. 

“Hmm?” Zevran finally pulled his attention away from the wagon to glance up at Fenris, his golden eyes troubled. “Oh... that. You are forgiven, _carissimi_ ,” he replied. He glanced back to the sight of Anders as the mage slept on, oblivious, his chin on his chest.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at the elf, almost in disbelief at how quickly he had been forgiven. “Did you even hear me? You raced off from me in anger and you …” 

Zevran had unconsciously urged his horse a little closer towards the wagon, focused on his other husband, seemingly barely even aware of Fenris’ presence. Hal had glanced up and was looking from Zevran to Fenris, clearly troubled by something.

Fenris fell quiet with a troubled glance at the Antivan, not wanting to argue further with him. He glanced at Hal, his gaze almost docile as he looked at the younger man. He wanted to speak with him, but it seemed everything conspired against it.

Zevran’s stallion was restless; it danced sideways and snorted, perhaps sensing the distraction of its rider. The sound startled Anders awake; his head jerked up and he reached instinctively for the staff lying beside him before turning towards the sound. His eyes focused slowly on the horse and then up at Zevran before he ran a hand slowly over his face.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked; Fenris could barely hear his voice over the rumbling of the wagons and the trotting hooves of the rest of the company. Hal’s quiet answer was lost entirely beneath the noise, but Anders relaxed back against the crate and lifted his hand from the staff before looking up to give Fenris and Zevran a slightly sheepish grin, his eyes still slightly unfocused.

“Not long, we’ve only been on the move a couple hours at most I think.” Fenris replied. He wanted to run, to leave them behind so he could get back on the outskirts of the company’s line and think without the damned guilt that was nagging him. Instead he sat up straighter and kept pace with the wagon. 

Anders nodded understanding. He shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, wincing slightly as his back protested against having slept awkwardly sitting up. He glanced over at Zevran, who smiled back reassuringly at him; it wasn’t long after that they saw Anders’ head slowly drooping down again as the mage nodded off once more.

The company continued on, scouts riding on ahead to find a suitable site to set up camp; it was drawing on into early evening before the order finally came for the company to halt and make camp. It was the lurching and creaking of the wagon as it rolled to a stop that stirred Anders awake once more; disoriented, he climbed down to the ground. He stumbled, and in an instant Zevran was off his horse and catching Anders before the mage could fall.

Fenris dismounted more sedately once he saw Anders was taken care of, his mind ill at ease as he tried to find a spot to settle for a while, and gather his thoughts before he spoke with his spouses, or attempted to talk to Hal. 

Invictus curbed the urge to chase after the elf, knowing full well he’d feel cornered even if he had the whole desert to flee into. “I’m going to talk to Hal, will you take my horse Callus?” he said as he looked for the red head. 

Callus glanced around; Garrett stepped forward. “I’ll take it, Master Invictus,” the young mage said. “Callus has duties with the Chargers.”

“ _Someone_ has to put up the tents,” nodded the elven youth. He headed off to report to the duty sergeant.

“Ugh, I ache,” groused Marian as she swung herself down off her horse then turned to help Pin down.

Hal and Zevran had gotten Anders to sit down on one of the crates as they waited for their tents to be put up; as Invictus drew closer he could hear Anders grousing about being made to sit like an invalid.

“I’m telling you, I feel fine!” he grumbled.

“Sit, my heart, and let others do the work, hmm?” smiled Zevran, one hand on Anders’ shoulder. “Come, it is just one day’s idleness. Do you chafe so much to be back in the saddle so soon then, or to wrestle with heavy canvas and cooking?”

“If he’s complaining this much, he must be fine.” Invictus said with a grin for his husband. He waited until they’d gotten Anders to sit still before tapping Hal on shoulder. 

“Hey, can we go and talk?” Vic asked

Hal gave him a suddenly wary look but nodded and allowed Invictus to draw him around the far side of the wagon, away from the others. Hal leaned his back against the wagon side and folded his arms against his thin chest and regarded Invictus slightly nervously with his mismatched eyes. 

“Is this about Fenris?” he asked quietly.

“And you, yes. I’m worried for all of you. I couldn’t hear what you two said to each other but he’s looked like someone kicked a mabari puppy down the stairs in front of him. I know it's been hard on all of us lately but I like you, and I love Fenris so I’m concerned. Can I do anything to help you two...do whatever it is you need to do to work through this?” Vic asked quietly.

“Funny... I rather felt like the kicked puppy,” confessed Hal, his gaze now on the ground. “He won’t tell me where I stand. I just wanted an answer - a simple yes or no. We didn’t have time to talk.” He looked up suddenly at Invictus, his eyes filled with hurt. “Why couldn’t he have come to me sooner, Invictus? I just need to know - if it’s the end between us, I just need him to _say_ so! He’s left me in limbo, and then he picked _that_ moment? I... I’d only barely managed to pull myself together and then - and he _knows_ I don’t handle being around horses well, and that _wretched_ beast just wouldn’t behave and -” He broke off and stared at the ground, breathing hard as he clenched his fists at his sides, visibly pulling himself together until he was able to compose himself enough to look up at Invictus again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quieter and calmer. “I didn’t mean to throw all of that on you like that. Forgive me, I didn’t sleep well last night and I haven’t eaten all day. I should go find Arden and see if the mess tent has been set up yet.” He leaned against the wagon as he stared up at Invictus, not moving despite his words.

The older mage was kind of quiet as he watched the young man in front of him, his eyebrows slowly coming back down as he’d heard out Hal’s rant. He sighed as he considered how to address all of the baggage that had been unloaded on him.

“Well, that was… a lot.” Vic said quietly as he glanced to the side to see if anyone had decided to look for them. “So, Fenris was avoiding all of us for the last month, month and a half, not just you Hal. As to why that moment? Arden tried to glare a damn hole in him and he noticed, and after Zevran realized why that could be? He took the chance to come over, I saw how Arden tried to block him even getting to you. I don’t know what was said, or if it can be repaired but, I don’t think he was doing it to hurt you. Void he and I have been together over a decade and he avoided me rather than deal with things. It's not ok, I’m not making excuses but that’s what’s been going on. I think what happened with Arden, him realizing that he was with you without Arden’s knowledge or consent made him feel like had to stop seeing you. 

I could be wrong, I hope I’m wrong but with all that’s happened especially with your little time magic stunt? Do you honestly think you could be with him and Arden now? Don’t answer me this second, or even in a day but think about it. If he screws up his courage to approach you? Hear him out or just tell him it's over and make a decision for yourself for once.”

Hal stared at him, and for a moment Invictus was afraid the younger mage would dissolve into the tears that he thought were coming. Hal lowered his head and his shoulders slumped, and Invictus felt his heart sink.

But when Hal lifted his head, his eyes were clear, his cheeks dry. There was a sad, wistful look in his eyes, but he nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I should tell him myself, really, instead of waiting.”

He sighed, and leaned against the side of the wagon. “I think I already knew on some level it was over, really. It just felt like I was hanging in limbo - unable to talk to Fenris, to actually come to some resolution with him. I think in a way I will always love him - but he’s been avoiding me for a long while now, Invictus. Even before we came to Skyhold, really. We should have made a clean break of it long ago, not let it drag out as long as it has; it hasn’t been fair on either of us.” He smiled sadly. “I’d come to the realisation it was over already, to be honest - I’d resigned myself to it, before we gathered outside Skyhold for the departure. I was crying then, because I knew it would be hard being around Fenris with so much left unsaid. Perhaps I should have said it then - except it was the worst possible moment - right there, in front of everyone. I couldn’t do that to him.”

That surprised Invictus a bit but he didn’t yell or make a big deal. He knew it was for the best, he was shocked the younger man finally saw it. “That’s going to hurt him, but it's likely for the best.” Do you want me to be there when you tell him?” he asked quietly.

Hal shrugged. “Nearby, perhaps,” he said. “I’m not sure Fenris would appreciate an audience. And if you’re there... well. I don’t want him lashing out at you.” He sighed. “We both know how he can be over these things.”

“I know but ...he’s going to fall apart. I will try to wait for him, if he comes to the tent afterward. I’m sorry Hal.” Vic said softly.

“So am I,” said Hal quietly with a sad smile. It struck Invictus that Hal looked tired and somehow older; as though the whole situation had aged him. But there was a peace in his eyes as he straightened up and nodded to the older mage. “Thank you, Invictus. I wasn’t entirely certain if I was doing the right thing but... you’ve helped me see that I am. It’s for the best for both of us, and whilst Fenris won’t agree with me now, I think in time he will. We have loved each other, but I think now it’s time he spent more time loving the three of you without me being a distraction.” His smile turned wry. “Even if this ‘distraction’ quite enjoyed it much of the time.” He patted Invictus on the arm. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Invictus. I really appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t all your fault Hal. It's not your fault Fenris is fucked up emotionally lately, it's not your fault that Arden has a lot of problems and let his anger fester.” Vic pulled him into his arms for a hug. “Take a deep breath.Why don’t you get some dinner, talk with Arden and when you have it in you? Now I’m going to get some food, see if I can get Fenris to stop moping and you get something to eat ok?” Vic asked as he pulled back and tried to get Hal to look at him.

Hal nodded, then looked up at him again. “Food... yes, I haven’t eaten yet.” He laughed. “There you go looking out for me again. What would we do without you, Vic?”

”Whatever you need to do to get through this? Do it or agree to let it wait until we’re back at Skyhold. Now go on and get some food before you add a headache to your list of problems.” Vic gave him one more brief hug before stepping away. 

“Oh, my head is already aching,” admitted Hal. “But you’re right. Thank you, Invictus. I think what I needed most just then was someone to shake some sense into me.” He inclined his head towards Invictus with a half smile, then turned and headed off between the tents and wagons in search of Arden and food.

He found Arden in the queue at the mess tent; the blond mage greeted him with a welcoming grin. “There you are, love!” he exclaimed. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to come look for you! Is Anders alright?”

“Fine - or will be once he’s had a good night’s sleep,” replied Hal. “Certainly there’s nothing more I can do for him.” He paused, then stepped closer to Arden. “Love... I don’t think I want to be around crowds tonight. Can we just get our food and go eat in our tent? There’s... there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Arden, a note of concern creeping into his voice; Hal smiled and patted his arm reassuringly.

“Not for us, love,” he replied gently. “But I don’t really want to talk out here about it.”

“Alright then,” nodded Arden, a little mystified.

Hal was quiet as they got their food and a mug of tea each, then headed back to their tent. Arden waited until they’d both gotten themselves settled, then took a mouthful of tea and swallowed before he waved his mug at Hal.

“Well, go ahead - it’s just us and I’m all ears,” he smiled.

Hal drew a deep breath as he stirred his spoon slowly through the stew, before looking up at Arden sadly.

“I don’t think Fenris is going to break things off,” he said slowly.

“Oh? That’s... good?” said Arden slowly, a doubtful note in his voice. “You don’t seem very happy....”

Hal smiled wistfully. “Fenris isn’t going to break things off... because I am,” he finished.

Arden stared at him blankly, and the spoon that was halfway to his mouth dropped into his bowl with a splash and clatter of tin. “Hal - wait, are you sure about this? I know how much Fenris means to you - if this is about me and -”

“It’s not about you,” said Hal swiftly yet firmly. “This is about me and Fenris. And it’s something I probably should have done before we ever left Skyhold. But you saw what happened - he’s been avoiding me the whole time we were there - in fact since your attack on Zevran. I should have seen the signs then; but I was a coward and wouldn’t see what was right under my very nose. What happened between myself, Zevran, Invictus and Fenris should never have happened - and though the first time may have been understandable, the second time was not.”

“Love, you know I hate hearing you blame yourself,” began Arden slowly, his food now forgotten and a worried expression on his face. Hal drew a deep breath and lifted his hand to forestall further words.

“Please, let me finish,” he said firmly. He waited until Arden had nodded before he went on. “I’m not blaming myself - I’m accepting my responsibility for my part in things. I should have seen then that things had gone far enough - Maker, I should have asked myself what in the Void I was doing when things started happening with Callus - and though everything around that was rather painful and hurt me badly, it’s just as well _that_ went no further. But since I brought you back, Fenris can barely even look at me. I’m sure that on one level he still loves and cares for me - but I think for both our sakes, it’s time that one of us decided to end it. And if Fenris won’t do it... then it should be me.”

Arden stared at him, then laid aside his plate and mug, his food barely touched, and held his arms out to Hal. “Oh love,” he sighed.

Hal gazed at him, his eyes slowly swimming with tears, and then he laid aside his own untouched meal and crawled into Arden’s arms and began to sob as Arden cradled him close, stroking his hair gently as the young man finally wept all the tears he’d been holding back earlier in front of Invictus.

“Oh love,” repeated Arden gently. “It must have been so hard for you to come to this decision. I know how much you loved Fenris.”

“I did - I do!” sobbed Hal. “But I just have to do this. I can’t carry on in limbo like this. One of us has to make the move and maybe I’m tired of always passively reacting. Invictus is right - it’s time I actually made a choice for myself instead of waiting for others to make it for me!”

Arden drew back and held Hal by the shoulders so the redhead had to actually look into his eyes. “Invictus? What does Invictus have to do with this, Hal? Is this something he talked you into?”

Hal shook his head as he dashed at the tears rolling down his face with the palm of his hand. “No. No, for once, this is all me, Arden. Invictus said nothing to me that I haven’t already said to myself a thousand times this past month; all he did was give me the kick in the pants I needed to shake off my own reluctance to rock the boat. Yes, breaking things off with Fenris is going to hurt like blazes, Arden - and I’m afraid I’m going to be a mess after. That’s why I’m telling you now - I’m going to need you, Arden.”

Arden drew him back into his arms again. “You know I’ll be here for you, Hal. I love you. I just hope you’re not doing this out of some misguided sense of loyalty to me or some feeling of obligation -”

“There’s nothing misplaced about my loyalty to you, Arden Hawke,” Hal said in a low, almost angry voice. “And there’s no obligation - don’t you dare talk of yourself as a burden or any such rot. I’ve told you before, I won’t hear it. I’m doing this because I need to, for my sanity - and because Fenris needs to get over me and focus on the ones who _really_ need him. On Anders, and Zevran, and Invictus.”

“It’s still going to be rough on you both,” said Arden. “I don’t know if he’ll see it the same way you do - though the way he’s avoided you, maybe it’ll be a relief to him as well. Do you want me to come with you when you go to tell him? As your support?”

Hall shook his head. “No. That would be the worst possible thing you could do. Fenris would assume you were there to gloat, and I shan’t give him the slightest excuse to take this out on you. He’s too keen on blaming others for his misfortune when he’s angry and upset as it is, and whilst he usually regrets it and apologises later, I’d sooner not take the risk. He won’t want an audience.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Any more than I would, though if he had done it at Skyhold in front of everyone, then I would have accepted it. But when he seemed surprised at what I said, I realised he wasn’t going to break things off - not there and then, anyhow. And I certainly couldn’t do it to him in front of all of Skyhold.”

He pulled away slightly, and wiped his eyes. “No, I’ll go see if I can find him after we’ve eaten and ask if we can talk quietly.”

Arden nodded, then picked up his spoon and pointed at Hal’s plate. “Then you should eat,” he said firmly.

Hal smiled tiredly and reached for his plate.

***

Invictus couldn’t sit still for anything as they ate. He fidgeted enough that Zevran grabbed his plate to keep it from sliding off his lap. He gave the Antivan elf a slight smile of thanks before digging into his food.

Fenris glanced at him but said nothing, he still wasn’t feeling too chatty after the way their journey had started. After he’d finished, he sat his plate aside, refilled his tea and kept quiet.

Anders, though drowsy and practically falling asleep into his stew, nonetheless sat up and blinked as Zevran averted the spilling of Invictus’ food and he finally took in how restless Invictus was.

“Did they set the tent up on an ant’s nest, Vic?” he asked. “You’re fidgeting worse than an apprentice who’s been caught red-handed at something!”

“No, just...can’t keep still. You know when you’re dead tired but can’t sleep. Maybe I’ll fidget myself into a nap or early bed. I’m fine love really.” Vic said with a brief glance at the tent flap, Fenris then back to Anders. 

“Maker knows, an early night sounds heavenly to me,” Anders shrugged. “My head’s still aching a little but a good night’s sleep will likely sort that out, and frankly I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.”

Fenris looked up at them but didn’t feel like talking, but he didn’t want to remain if they were going to try and sleep. “I’m going to find a spot to work on my weapons, something so I don’t keep you up if you’re looking to rest. I’ll be back later.” he said quietly as he rose and gathered their empty plates and cups. 

“You don’t have to leave love, its not like you sitting quietly will keep us awake.” Vic replied.

“I am restless as well and need some air. I shall return to sleep later Invictus.” Fenris grabbed his weapon and kit on the way out, moving quickly before the others could talk him into staying. 

“Damn, he’s still in a bad way after this morning.” Vic said before looking to his spouses. “I’m ready for an early night, either of you want to join me?”

“If you two wish to sleep, I am content to sleep also,” shrugged Zevran. “It was a long ride and I feel it a little in my leg now. I am sure that like _mi cuore_ I will find a good night’s rest will set much to rights.”

He paused as he glanced at the door flap, then arched an eyebrow. “Do not be a stranger, Hal; come in?” he called.

Hal ducked his head under the flap and peered in, startled. “I was walking on grass! How did you know it was me?”

Zevran merely smiled. “You seek Fenris, I think; you have just missed him.”

Hal groaned. “Figures,” he replied.

“He can’t have gotten far, look for an open space where he can work on his sword.” Vic said with an anxious expression. 

Hal nodded. “I will; thanks,” he replied, then hesitated. He gave Invictus a gentle smile. “I... don’t think this will take too long,” he added softly. Then he shrugged before ducking back under the flap and walking away into the cool evening air.

“Well, _that_ was mysterious,” said Anders. “It’s not like Hal to be all cryptic like that - what’s not going to take too long?”

Zevran was regarding Invictus thoughtfully. “I wonder indeed,” he mused, then shrugged. “Well, perhaps Fenris will make all clear tomorrow.” He arched his eyebrow at Invictus.

Invictus returned the same expression at his Antivan husband. “Something to say Zev?”

“My love, I think from your behaviour you perhaps know more of what is going on than you wished us to know - perhaps not in front of young Hal. Tell me - will Fenris let him down gently at long last then, if Hal seeks him out so directly?” He leaned in a little closer. “Was that why you were talking to him behind that wagon earlier?”

Vic sighed and considered whether to tell them for a moment, then decided it was better to be forewarned. “It’s not that love, rather the other way around. Hal made a decision and I fear how Fenris will take it, or how he will be tonight assuming he returns after their talk.” 

Anders had been slowly changing out of his travel clothes and was down to his shirt and pants; he halted in the act of unlacing his boots and stared at Invictus. “ _Hal_ is going to break it off?” he replied, startled. “But... but he loves Fenris! He’s been heartbroken that Fenris has been avoiding him all this time - he told me so, whilst we were riding into the wagon together!”

“Ah, but my heart, sometimes we must let a person go even though we love them,” replied Zevran as he shook his head sadly. “Sometimes if we love someone very much, the kindest thing we can do is to set them free. They have not been happy for some time I am thinking, and remember how he was when Fenris took off his rings and left us? Did I not say that I would not let myself be hurt any more like that myself, even though I love Fenris very much? Perhaps it was then that Hal began to feel that things should find a natural end - he did not even have a ring that Fenris could leave behind, no?”

“Zevran - don’t tell me that you’re thinking of -” began Anders, worriedly; he fell silent as Zevran lifted a hand.

“No. But I would lie if I said I have not considered it, and I have never lied to you, my heart.” He glanced to Invictus. “Either of you. But I took vows with you all, and Zevran Arainai Hawke is not an oathbreaker. Hal, however took no such oath.”

Invictus stared at Zevran for a long moment before going to let his bedroll flatten. “That would kill him, as it would us Zev. I think I’d better be the one to pick up the pieces after their talk, your directness will not be welcome once they are done I think.” 

Zevran let his gaze drop to the floor. “I think Fenris has no wish to see me just now. I do not think he would wish it to be me who seeks him out. Why do you think I raced off as I did? If I see him in his grief and anger, then I think many things might be said that both he and I might never be able to take back. I will not place myself in the path of his wrath so willingly as that.”

He nodded towards the door flap. “You should follow them,” he said quietly, a sadness and weariness in his voice.

“What are you talking about Zev? Also, I am as stealthy as a mabari in an Orlesian crystal shop, I’d never be able to follow without them seeing me.” Vic asked. 

Zevran stared at the ground once more. “We quarrelled. I tried to lighten his mood, and instead he took his mood out on me and I was merely ‘Arainai’ to him. I have told you that I will not allow myself to be treated thus. So I put spur to my horse to put as much space between myself and him as I could because I thought we would fight if I did not. And then Anders was thrown when he followed me, which distracted all of us, and so he and I did not fight. But if I follow him, I think he will remember his anger at me, and then I think things will go ill for both of us. It is enough that his mood will be bad tonight as it is. I will not cause more hurt to any of us tonight of all nights. For if he takes it out on me once more, I shall find another tent or sleep beneath the stars. I will not go through this again with him.” He buried his face in his hands. “I _cannot_ ,” he breathed softly.

Anders was looking on, aghast. “Maker... Zevran. I had no idea - you didn’t breathe a word of this earlier!”

“You were hurt, and I was no longer angry,” shrugged the Antivan without looking up.

Vic folded his arms and glanced at the elf. “You’re making assumptions Zevran. Neither of you know him well as I do, and he’s been unhappy the whole day. You didn’t see the way he looked at you longingly while you had eyes only for Anders.” Vic paced as much as he could in the tent as he thought of what to say. Finally he turned to look at his spouses.

“I think he’s jealous and afraid that he’s losing you Zevran. It doesn’t mean it's right or logical but the last month and a half has shown he’s still fucked up emotionally. Try talking to him once he’s dealt with tonight’s heartache. Just...all I was trying to say was let me handle this one, please?” 

Zevran laughed bitterly. “Talk to him? Why - so that he can protest, ask if he is not allowed to show that he is hurting yet again, once more placing himself ahead of others and diminishing their pain?” He lifted his head and stared at Invictus, and the mage could see tears rolling down his cheeks even as anger flashed in his eyes. “Am I not allowed to show that _I_ am hurting? I bite my tongue every time he says that, because I hurt too! Yet that seems less important than that he avoid recognising what he is doing to us!” He shook his head then lowered it. “No. I will not talk to him until he comes to me. But if he denies my pain once more then I shall not talk. I will not waste my breath and be hurt yet more.” 

He gestured to the tent flap. “Go. Go to him. I am sick at heart and I will sleep now. I cannot speak of this more or my heart will break, for I love you all and I cannot do this.”

Invictus glared at him for a moment before gathering his bedroll and pack then heading out to find Fenris. He was furious, worried and hoping he could catch the Tevinter elf before he went back to their tent, sure he would find no comfort after losing Hal. 

Anders stared at the tent flap after Invictus had gone, then turned back to Zevran. The elf had hunched in upon himself, still staring at the floor with one hand pressed to his face. His demeanor was utterly changed from his normal carefree self; it were as though all his hurt, pain and exhaustion had caught up with him at once, leaving nothing left.

Setting his boots aside, Anders crawled over to Zevran and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, he placed his arm around Zevran, uncertain if he would want physical comfort; but after a moment, the Antivan leaned into his warm embrace and let his head rest upon Anders’ shoulder. Heartened, Anders straightened out his legs and drew the elf into his lap before wrapping his arms around him as Zevran curled into him silently. Gently, the mage lifted a hand to stroke the tousled blond hair.

“Zevran,” he said very softly. “Why didn’t you say something before? If not to Fenris, then to me? Or Vic?”

Zevran was silent as he pondered his reply before finally he spoke, his voice just as quiet as Anders’. “You saw Invictus’ reaction, _mi cuore_. He will ever take Fenris’ side; and I have never been as close to him as I have been to you and Fenris. And now I feel this estrangement between my _carissimi_ and I, and it breaks my heart. He has withdrawn from me; only twice in Skyhold would he make love to me - and that only because I asked. I will not beg, _mi cuore_. I can read the signs.” 

He lifted his head to look up at Anders, anguish in his eyes. “Invictus says that Fenris still looks upon me with love. Why then is my _carissimi_ so cold when he speaks to me, my heart?”

“Oh, Zevran,” sighed Anders, then pressed a gentle kiss to the Antivan’s forehead. “Why do you always keep it all inside until you reach your limits like this? I wish you’d confided in me sooner. Please, love - give him one more chance? You heard what Vic said - Fenris is still messed up and has been for the past month or more. I know that’s not an adequate excuse for the way he’s treated you - or me, or Vic either. He’s withdrawn from _all_ of us. I know in my heart of hearts that he doesn’t mean to hurt us - he lashes out because he’s hurting too. And I know it stings that half the time when he lashes out he fails to accept his own part in hurting others - Maker, I’ve said as much to Vic, that night when Pin and Marian announced their betrothal and then it all fell apart over Karl.”

His breathing gave a small hitch as remembered pain from that evening threatened to choke him. “He and Vic put me to bed and then it seemed like he couldn’t wait to get away from us. From me. And when I asked why he wouldn’t stay, he blew up at us and accused us of interrogating him. He _knew_ I was hurting and upset over Karl, yet he lashed out at me and accused Vic and I of ganging up on him before storming off.”

Zevran stirred, gently pressing a soft kiss to Anders’ jaw, then the corner of his mouth before Anders turned his head and kissed him fervently, almost with a feeling of desperation. Zevran could feel wetness on his face as Anders breathed a small sob into Zevran’s mouth; when they finally parted for breath, Zevran reached up to cradle Anders’ face tenderly in his hands as he stared up into Anders’ tear-filled amber eyes.

“Hush, my heart,” he said gently. “You should not dwell upon it so. We are both hurt, and now I have distressed you and infected you with my own pain.”

“Zevran, I still love him!” protested Anders brokenly.

“And so do I, _mi cuore_ ,” replied Zevran sadly. “And that is why this hurts so much. But unless Fenris learns to change and grow as a man, I do not see how long I can remain with him - and that would tear me apart, my heart, my love. For I cannot bear to lose you also.”

“Don’t go, Zevran, _please_ ,” Anders begged. “I need you!”

“I will not leave you,” Zevran said soothingly. “I am still here.”

Gently he pressed Anders back to lie on the bedroll then moved to cover him, pressing soft kisses to his face, then down his jaw, and down his throat as Anders arched his neck.

They made love gently, both weeping, before curling up together and finding solace in each other’s arms, slipping softly into sleep, legs and bodies still entwined.

***

Fenris had found a spot to work on his sword, though it didn’t need any maintenance. More like he needed space to think and it was a good excuse. He was half-heartedly polishing it when he heard someone approaching.

Hal was walking slowly, glancing around as he came, one hand playing a little distractedly with a loose strand of red hair that had come loose from his braid. His eyes fell on Fenris and he halted; he appeared to take a deep breath, then walked steadily towards the elf, his hand dropping from his hair.

He halted a few paces from Fenris and stood there, an uncertain look on his face. “Invictus said I might find you out here, working on your sword,” he began as he shifted nervously from one foot to another. “I... I wondered if... if we could talk?” 

The elf gestured at a rock and tried to give him a smile. “Of course Hal, please sit.” 

The mage glanced at the boulder then sat. He wrapped his arms around his torso as though he felt cold, though the evening air was pleasant and balmy. He swallowed nervously, darting an apologetic look at Fenris before he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. When he opened them again to return Fenris’ gaze, there was a resolute look in his eyes.

“Fenris... there’s no way for me to word this easily. Please don’t think I don’t love you; nothing could be further from the truth. But....” A sorrowful look crossed his face. “I’m sorry. But I think it’s time to end things between you and I.”

The warrior felt the sword slide off his lap, heard the dull thud but he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Fenris stared at Hal, unsure if he could speak. “Why?” he finally asked as he stared at Hal, stricken.

Hal regarded him sadly. “Because I think it’s for the best for both of us. I’ve felt you drawing away from me ever since the... the attack on Zevran. You sought me out with Callus only once in the entire time we were at Skyhold, but despite your words then, you’ve drawn away from me. And I realised I can’t live in that limbo anymore, not knowing if this is the end between us and you just won’t tell me, or if this is just some undefined hiatus and you’ll remember I exist again.” He shook his head, eyes glimmering with unshed tears; but though his voice wavered a little, he managed to carry on. “I can’t live like that, Fenris. Not for weeks, months. I... I have to do this for my own sanity. You have three husbands who love and _need_ you, Fenris. They love you so much.” He smiled sadly. “Don’t think this is easy for me. I’m not doing this to hurt you. But... I think this is for the best.”

Fenris couldn’t hide the hurt he felt at Hal’s words, every bit of training to hide his emotions failed as he stared at the young mage. “I tried to talk to you this morning. Don’t I get a say in this, at all? I wanted to …” he fell silent as he bowed his head and broke down. He knew Zevran was cross with him, for good reason. But he hadn’t expected this and it was too much. 

“Fenris,” Hal said gently. “You would not have wanted me to do this in front of the whole of Skyhold, and I wasn’t going to do that to you. But we have had so many chances - so much time in which you could have come to me and we could have talked. But you didn’t. I tried to talk to you but you brushed me aside. What else was I to do or think? It was clear that we were over. And I came to realise that if you wouldn’t end it... then for once I had to make the choice and decide my fate for myself.” He lowered his head. “I am more sorry than you could know, and I think _my_ heart is breaking for what I’ve done. But I think it’s for the best.” He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle the sob he could feel welling up. A part of him desperately wanted to throw himself down upon his knees before Fenris, tell him he’d changed his mind, beg him to take him back; but he remained where he was as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

The elven warrior turned to look at him, anger and hurt in his expression. “Leave then, since you’ve made the choice for me. Don’t tell me it's for the best and tell me how sorry you are. You’ve broken things off, go back to _him_ and leave me to mourn.” Fenris tried to stem his tears, not wanting to let the young man see him break further. He felt himself go cold, his hurt and anger competing for control. He closed his eyes, unable to look at Hal.

Hal drew a deep breath and rose to his feet. He wiped at his eyes with one hand, but his face was once again resolute. “No, I haven’t made the choice for you, Fenris. You did that when you turned away from me over, and over. I wish you happiness and long life with Anders, Zevran and Invictus, Fenris Hawke.” He bowed slightly to the elf, then turned and walked away with an air of finality, not once looking back.

Fenris waited until he couldn’t hear Hal’s footsteps before he fell to the ground, weeping brokenly. It was there Invictus found him, curled up and desolate.

“Fenris?” Vic asked quietly as he approached. 

“Come to dump me as well?” Fenris asked dully as he lay there and stared out at the desert.

“What happened? Is that why you’re lying here in the dirt?” Vic asked as he tried to get the warrior to sit up at least, but gave up when the elf was no more than a dead weight in his arms. “Please sit up.”

“Leave me here in the dirt, go back to Zevran and Anders. Be happy with them.” Fenris replied.

“You wouldn’t leave Zevran in the road when he said the same to you love, I’m definitely not letting you lie here like this. Come on, let me help you.” Vic said as he finally got Fenris up, and wrapped around him and sobbing.

“Hal...he...broke things off with me.” he managed to gasp out finally. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Can I do anything?” Vic asked as he held the elf, sad at seeing him so broken.

“No, what is there to do? He doesn’t want me anymore. Just told me it's for the best and claimed he was sorry. I wish we’d never found that first eluvian in Kirkwall. I wish we’d never met Arden or Hal.” Fenris choked back a sob before pulling away from Invictus.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he asked plaintively

“Because love hurts when you lose it Fenris. What will help?” Vic asked as he tried to brush some of the dirt off the elf’s face.

“Right now? Nothing. He may as well have ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I wanted to talk to him! I didn’t even get the chance to try, Vic. I know I’ve been distant but its been with everyone not just him. I don’t ... I wish I’d never come on this damn journey.” Fenris said as he dashed a few more tears away.

“Well, we’ve only been on the road a day. You could always take a portal back and join us once we’re at Adamant.” Vic offered.

“No, I won’t run away. I’ve been hurt before and I’ll live. It just hurts so fucking much right now, I felt like he kicked me in the chest when he said it needed to end. I wonder when you all will leave me as well? If its going to happen just do it so I can leave and be alone.” Fenris said in a small voice.  
“I’m not leaving you, that would be too cruel. Besides, you’ve put up with my bullshit for over ten years, I’m not going to leave you when you’re hurting like this. We’ve had our fights but I’m in it for the long haul, remember?” Vic said as he pulled the warrior into his arms. 

“You should, you all should. I feel like Hal is the beginning of the end. He had the nerve to wish me happiness after breaking my heart.” Fenris spat.

“I’m sure he meant it, though you’re not in a place to hear it. Hal ...is young and this isn’t the first time he’s had heartbreak. Just give it time, and when you can try and forgive him. You’re older and you’ll be ok, eventually. I won’t let this destroy you.” Vic said as he tried to soothe the elf.

“To the Void with him and Arden. I hope never to speak with them again and so help me if he approaches me tomorrow I will end him.” Fenris snarled.

“I doubt he’d be so foolish, knowing you could kill him without effort. Just stay with me and let me take care of you ok?” Vic asked quietly.

“Fine, I don’t care. Do whatever you want with me Vic, I’m yours if you’ll still have me.” Fenris said tiredly.

“What I want is you to let me hold you tonight. Show you I still love you and tomorrow, we get up and go on. Its going to hurt for a while but I’m here for you. I’m sure when you tell the others they will understand and be there for you too.” Vic kissed him on the cheek before rising and offering the elf his hand.

“I’m sure Zevran cares not for my hurt, and if I do say anything he’ll just ignore it or tell me I’m wrong. I don’t want to talk anymore Vic, I just want to sleep, but not in the tent.” Fenris sounded wrung out, like he’d aged a few years and felt it.

“That’s not true, but I won’t push you love. Come on, I brought my things out here away from camp. I needed a little space myself, so you’re welcome to join me.” Vic said as he started to lead them to his bedroll.

“Did you argue? Why are you out here alone?” the elf asked quietly.

“Not argue, but there was a tension in the tent and I made myself scarce. Come, let me show you how much I care for you tonight, please?” Vic asked as he sat on the bedroll and tugged Fenris down next to him.

The warrior looked away and sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel up to anything more than sleep Vic. Can you hold me please?” Fenris asked finally, eyes dark with hurt and worry that he’d push his husband away with his refusal.

“Of course, I’ve got you. Do you need help sleeping love?” Vic asked as he curled around the elf and held him close.

“Probably but I don’t want magic used on me.” Fenris glanced at Vic then sighed. “Go ahead, just make it quick.” 

He pressed two fingers to the elf’s forehead just under the “V” and sent him gently to sleep. Soon Vic joined him in slumber until the sounds of camp breaking brought him around the next morning.

He opened his eyes to find Fenris sitting up, arms around his knees and staring at the camp. “Hey, let’s get your sword and find breakfast before we need to ride.” 

“I’ll get rations for the road, I need to wash up and my things are still in the tent.” Fenris said quietly before he rose. “Thank you Vic, sorry to be a burden.” he said as he moved aside to let Vic get his things and walk with him.

“Not a burden, just glad I found you before you could do something you couldn’t take back. Come on, let’s find Anders and Zevran and start the day.” Vic tried to get a smile, or something out of the warrior but he couldn’t even get the elf to look at him. 

“It’s not like anything would be lost if I’d left or done what you’re thinking. Sometimes I think you all would be better off without me. Let’s just go and hope I don’t fall apart, since I know I won’t get compassion.” Fenris left him so he could find that emptiness that would let him go on with the day, put on the mask as it were.

“God Dammit Fenris, that’s not true.” Vic said under his breath as he followed the elf and prayed for things not to get worse as they traveled.

**

The camp stirred to life early the next morning, the Chargers’ cooks stirring up the cooking fires to bake camp bread which they stuffed with what remained of the cold roast meats that hadn’t been eaten the previous evening.

Invictus and Fenris returned to their tent to find Zevran had curled up around Anders at some point after they’d left; the Antivan was lifting his head sleepily as Invictus glanced around.

Zevran blinked at Invictus; he seemed oblivious to the dried tears on his face and his eyes as he glanced groggily around the tent were bleary. He straightened slowly; his legs were tangled in those of the sleeping Anders and he had a little difficulty extracting himself. He sat still for a moment, head bowed as he tried to gather sleep-addled wits.

“It is morning, then?” he asked in a low, dull voice as he rubbed his eyes slowly.

“Yes.” Vic said quietly as he let Fenris go so he could gather his things then find the bathing tent.

Anders snorted in his sleep then abruptly sneezed and sat up, blinking around at them startled. “Huh? Oh. It’s morning?”

“Yes, you slept all the way through thankfully.” Vic said as he crouched and got his bedroll tied up. He glanced to Fenris then to Zevran to see if any of them would get a word in or if they should leave him alone.

Anders glanced down at where Zevran’s leg was still thrown across his legs, as though to keep him pinned down. “Uh, Zev? Were you afraid I would go somewhere last night?” he joked. The elf grinned half-heartedly at him, his eyes still tired and sad.

“Oh, no, I was quite certain that there was no where you would go to that I could not follow - at least upon this side of the Veil,” shrugged the elf as he swung his leg out of Anders’ way. “I bear no blame for where your dreams may have taken you in the Fade however.” He leapt to his feet then paused for a moment, face blank, before turning to pack away his own bedroll with a little less exuberance.

“I’m not quite sure what I dreamed about,” frowned Anders. “I can’t really remember much about it at all. Except I’m sure it was about something rather nicer to wake up to than a camp breakfast and more hours in the saddle to look forward to. Maker, I’m getting soft in my old age if the thing I’m missing most about Skyhold right now is the feather beds though,” he added as he stretched with a wince.

“Eh, you grew soft long before we reached Skyhold again,” teased Zevran, with a sly wink to Invictus as he distracted their husband from the other elf’s silence by his jokes and teasing. He appeared to be back to his usual self but there was a tightness about his eyes, and his gaze slid away from that of Invictus. 

Anders however rose to the bait without fail as though glad to grasp at this semblance of normality. He glanced at Fenris and made as though to speak then glanced back at Invictus before sighing and turning to roll up his own bedroll and sort out his pack.

As they mounted up, Zevran led his white stallion over to one of the wagons and hitched it to a ring before moving towards Anders who was sitting astride his dappled grey hunter. The elf glanced up at him and extended a hand; Anders wordlessly slipped his foot free of the stirrup and leaned down so Zevran could swing himself up to sit behind him, wrapping his arms around Anders’ waist as Anders slipped his foot back into the stirrup and urged his horse into the line of the company. As they passed Invictus and Fenris, they heard Anders’ voice as he quietly asked if Zevran’s leg was alright; the elf shook his head then rested his head against Anders’ back, closing his eyes.

The warrior fell in line with the others, eating as they went and speaking little as possible. He glanced up and saw Anders and Zevran together on one horse, then looked to Invictus as if to show he was right to think as he did. He spurred his horse away from all three of them, and damn his luck as he found that once again they were riding just behind Arden and Hal. 

He didn’t get a chance to say anything when he felt a hand on his leg. “Come back with us love, we should ride together.” Vic said as he tried to get through to the elf. 

“Fine.” Fenris let him guide his warhorse so he was next to Zevran and Anders, and Invictus was on his other side. For once he was glad he had to keep focused on riding so he could not let his feelings guide his words. He knew if he spoke up it wouldn’t help things. He glanced up to see the teens were all riding up ahead with the Chargers, and only the wagons were behind them. It was some small consolation, he supposed, that Arden appeared to be facing the day with, if anything, even less grace than he himself was.

Even as he thought that, Arden’s horse stumbled slightly and the blond mage nearly fell from his saddle.

“Maker, it’s not like Arden to be nearly unseated from his horse like that,” he heard Anders exclaim. “I hope he’s not taking ill with something - that would be bloody bad luck right before Adamant.”

Fenris glared at mention of Arden and Hal, his gaze full of hate as he stared at the two mages. He was too raw to care about them, but kept the acidic words that rose in his mind to himself. He sat straighter in his saddle instead. 

“As would it have been had our little race turned out more calamitous, my heart,” replied Zevran quietly. “I am sure that if there is something wrong, Hal will be able to heal whatever physical affliction he may have. Perhaps he merely slept badly?” He pressed himself closer to Anders’ back. “I shall hold tight to you, my heart, in case your horse also should stumble, eh? I do not with to take a fall as you did.”

“I’d rather neither of you take a fall, be careful eh?” Vic said as he lined up on the other side of Anders, a tired smile for his spouses. “How is your head feeling love?” 

“A slight headache, but to be honest it’s no worse than I’ve had many a morning after I’ve tried to match Fenris drink for drink,” replied Anders ruefully. “You’d think I’d have learned my lesson long ago but even after all the wine I put away whilst playing at being Dorian’s sickly cousin I still can’t match even you, love - and Zevran has me beaten for downing brandy.”

“Ah, but in Antiva, brandy is like mother’s milk - and indeed, often safer, my heart!” murmured Zevran quietly, his eyes closed. Anders laughed ruefully then glanced back to Invictus.

“Honestly though, I’ll be fine, love. No double vision, and I kept down dinner just fine. Between Hal’s work and the potion that Zevran insisted on pouring down my throat before he would even let me get up off the floor or even try to sit up, I’m pretty much as good as ever I was. Now, if only my back felt half as good! Which reminds me - Zev, I saw that wince you gave earlier - you’ve not ridden since your leg broke. How are you holding up?”

“Ah, I too will be fine, my heart,” shrugged the elf. “A little discomfort is to be expected after so long out of the saddle, no?” He sighed. “My fine stallion is a handsome creature but this morning I am grateful that your steed is the quieter. A beautiful, steady creature. Much like his rider, eh?”

“Zevran, stop trying to distract me,” frowned Anders. “Seriously now - do I need to pin you down and heal you?”

“Don’t be testy love, we have a while to go before we stop for a break. Though he _is_ being evasive about his leg, isn’t he?” Invictus said with a glance at the elf’s leg.

Fenris said nothing as he listened to them talking, and though he wouldn’t admit it he was curious as to the other elf’s evasion of the subject. Though he rode between them, he tried to avoid being drawn into the conversation.

“My leg is much as it always is,” said Zevran dully. “Pay it no mind. You may ask me again when we halt; you can hardly heal me on horseback.”

Anders sighed, then glanced at Fenris who frankly didn’t look much better off than Zevran. “Fenris?” he asked softly. “I can see something’s wrong. Is... is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you but no, I don’t feel well, in mind or body Anders. I’m exhausted and broken hearted.” Fenris admitted as they went. What he wanted was to take flight and get away for a while but he knew that would spook their horses too badly.

“Can I ask what happened yesterday evening?” Anders asked softly. “I know it was something to do with Hal and Arden but nothing more.” 

Fenris filled him in, his voice low as he could without letting others overhear. By the time he finished his voice was rough with emotion and he had to calm himself before he got upset again. 

“Oh, Fenris,” sighed Anders, heartfeltly. “Love... I’m sorry you had to go through that, that can’t have been easy on you. And you’ve been so raw lately.” He glanced up ahead; Arden and Hal were riding a little apart from each other, the blond mage riding with his head down, shoulders slumped as the redhead fought to bring his dun mare under control.

“I ..can’t think about it right now or I’ll just walk this horse off the trail and keep going. I feel like I’m never going to heal emotionally.” Fenris said softly before dropping his head and closing his eyes.

Anders spurred his horse forward and caught the bridle of Fenris’ horse just as the warhorse tossed her head and snorted, sensing her rider’s attention was elsewhere.

“Fenris!” he said urgently as he pulled both horses to a halt. “Go. Go on, go fly - if you run far enough off to the side of the trail you won’t spook the horses - but I can see you need to go. Or do you want one of us to fly with you?” He stared at Fenris, desperately worried for the elf. “I - I’ll come with you, if you ask.”

Fenris gave him a sad smile and shook his head. “I know you are afraid of flying with me, and I won’t hold up the march. Maybe when we break camp for the night, I’ll take wing. Let me be Anders, I’ll hold out until then.” the elf nudged at his warhorse but she wouldn’t budge with Anders holding her bridle. 

Anders stared up at him. “Fenris, I mean it. I’m serious. You won’t hold up the train - you can outstrip the company on wing easier than on horseback, and I’ll come with you. I know you won’t let me fall.” He glanced to Fenris’ horse, who was eyeing him as she pawed the ground but held still. He looked back up at Fenris. “Take me with you,” he pleaded. “I know you need this. And I want to be with you when you come back down again.”

Fenris gave him that same sad smile before he petted his horse. “Anders..I know you hate flying, you hate it like others hate riding horses. I’ve survived worse, and came out the other side. Stay with me for a while if you want to keep an eye on me?” 

Anders slowly let go of the chestnut mare’s reins. “I followed Invictus into the Deep Roads - not once, but twice. I followed him into the caves looking for that damned book of Isabela’s. Yes, I hate flying - but I’ll come with you, Fenris, and damn how I feel about flying.”

“I love you, but I’m not budging on this. I won’t take the chance and I won’t do that to you. Let’s go before we actually hold up the the company, please.” Fenris gently moved Anders’ hand and tried to get his horse to go. 

“Go, on, girl,” said Anders slowly; willingly, she swung back into the line of horses and wagons, and Anders guided his dappled grey after her, riding alongside Fenris.

“I wish you would,” Anders confessed. “I won’t press - but I know you wouldn’t drop me. Though I could always tie myself on like Zevran did.” He smiled as Fenris darted him a startled glance. “Yes, I know about that, though I was dying of the poison at the time. Invictus and Zevran told me about it later.”

“Regardless, I want to drop it Anders.” Fenris said with another slight glance at the mage before letting his horse take him as she followed the line ahead of her.

Anders kept his horse abreast of Fenris’ immense chestnut mare, though his eyes were upon the road just in front of his horse’s feet. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“For what? You’ve done nothing to me, unlike a lot of people around here.” Fenris said dejectedly. He was quiet before a while before looking ahead in the line. “I need to talk with my brother tonight.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help,” replied Anders. “I know how much Hal means to you. I wish there were some way you could finally be at peace. I’m a healer, Fenris, and it pains me that there are some hurts that are beyond even me.” He finally lifted his gaze up to the sky ahead of them. “Some things I can only entrust to Andraste’s hands. Which makes me sound like Sebastian; forgive me - but... there it is. She gave me life, and sometimes....” He lowered his head. “I shouldn’t say anything about that around Arden though. After what Sebastian did to him, I doubt he’d care for the reminder.”

“I’m the last person he wants to talk to, your secret is safe.” Fenris replied quietly. “I wonder sometime if I’m broken like he is, if that’s what's wrong with me? Or am I just defective, no matter what I’m told.” the elf took a breath and tried to give Anders a smile as they went but it fell flat. “Sorry, guess I’m still a little raw, ignore me.” 

Anders shook his head. “No, there was a lot of physical damage inside Arden’s head,” he replied. “Multiple old head wounds, backlash from magic - he’d been electrocuted by lightning attacks several times, and beneath it all I wonder if his brain chemistry was out of kilter to begin with. There was... damage there that I would expect from one who had been raised in the Tower as I was - not an apostate who’d always lived free. I’ve healed you enough to know that physically, you’re not damaged as he is - but sometimes life experiences are far more than just physical damage. I healed his body - but as for his mind? That is more than I can deal with I’m afraid.” 

He glanced up at Fenris. “As for you... I can feel your brands - Maker, they almost make _my_ skin hurt, even with Mythal’s healing. And... there’s _older_ stuff. But... love, it’s more than that that I think is affecting you, and it’s a malady of the spirit, not the body - and against that, I can do nothing.” He blinked, and Fenris could see the glimmer of tears in his amber eyes. Anders was almost physically pained that he was helpless to heal Fenris’ pain.

“I think it's in my head, not my spirit Anders. I thought Mythal doing whatever she did would fix me, but I’m still broken.” Fenris shook his head and wiped a hand over his face to stem the tears he felt welling up. “Let’s...drop it please. I’d like to have one day without falling to pieces before we get to Adamant.” he gave the mage a tired half-smile before straightening up and paying attention to the road ahead.

He thought he heard Anders softly breathe, “I’m afraid....” but it was so silent he wasn’t entirely sure he was imagining it. He darted a sharp glance at the blond mage as Anders rode beside him, his dappled grey matching the chestnut warhorse stride for stride; but Anders’ eyes were on the road ahead and his face composed. Zevran’s eyes were still closed as he sat behind Anders, arms loosely clasped around the mage’s waist, and Fenris wondered if somehow he had fallen asleep. If any of them could sleep on horseback it would be the Antivan.

Fenris remained silent as they traveled, through their break and when they broke camp for the night, opting to turn in early as soon as they had eaten. There was still a ways to go until Adamant and he felt like they’d never get there.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road is never easy for any of them.

Three days later, they met up with the group of Wardens out of Vigil’s Keep, led by Nathaniel. There were thirty Wardens in all, Nathaniel at their head. Though he had taken Dorian’s cure and was no longer tainted, he remained as their Warden Commander due to his long years of experience.

As the company came into view of Nathaniel and the others, Anders spurred his horse on ahead, easily overtaking Meneris and the other companions at the front in his eagerness to greet his old friend; he and Nathaniel slipped from their horses to close the last few yards on foot, hugging each other tightly as they met. Zevran straightened in the saddle, taking the reins and guiding the tall gelding onwards, his eyes on Nathaniel, and he managed a brief smile as Nathaniel greeted him as well.

Fenris followed at a more sedate pace, keeping up with his sibling and Isabela as they made their way towards the wardens. “I hope we can have one night of peace before going into the fortress,” he said to Aeolus as they drew closer. 

“Oh, as I understand it we have far to go yet,” replied Aeolus with a shrug. “A few hundred miles yet?”

“Yes but we’ve been making good time since we’re on horseback versus walking. I anticipate something going wrong after our last jaunt to this damned fortress,” Fenris replied. 

“Ah, I was not there for that,” replied Aeolus with a shrug. “Still, we are near to Crestwood where we may at least stay in the inn tonight instead of camping. And perhaps things won’t be as dire as you fear? After all, there’s no rift for Anders to fall out of as I have heard happened before?”

“Find wood and smack it brother, it seems we borrow trouble whether or not we aim to when it comes to those damn rifts. Come on, let’s keep going so we can find a real bed tonight.” Fenris nudged his horse into a trot along with his sibling. 

The decision was made to spend two nights in Crestwood, to allow time to rest the horses and gather more supplies for the journey. The town was much changed from the last time Meneris had visited; the new mayor had made a lot of changes, the town rebuilt once the depredations of the undead were over, and the whole place felt different. The town was prosperous once more, and they were glad to welcome the former Inquisitor and his company back. The inn was thrown open to them all, and they were fed well, the wine and ale flowing freely.

Fenris found himself at a table in the corner between Invictus on one side and Anders on the other. Zevran was on Anders’ other side, the elf still quiet, contenting himself with the contents of his wineglass.

Hal and Arden had retreated to a quiet, shadowed booth in a corner near the fireplace; a flirtatious barmaid had tried to get handsy with the redhead but left in a hurry at a low word from Arden.

Anders poured himself another cup of ale from the flagon on the table then leaned back to wrap an arm around Zevran’s shoulders. “Maker, it’s good to think we’ll sleep tonight in real beds,” he sighed. “Sleeping on the ground was all very well when I was a runaway apostate in my twenties, but it’s no joy in my forties.”

“It’s no joy in your thirties either,” Vic said as he leaned back and observed his loves. Seeing both elves so subdued was hurting him but he was afraid to bring it up after Zevran’s outburst and Fenris’ words about waiting for them to dump him too. 

The elf in question had closed his eyes after finishing his wine, and was silent. Fenris wanted to leave and go to their room, but he knew it would cause a fight so he stayed put.

“Not easy on your leg either, is it, Zevran?” asked Anders gently. “No matter how quiet you are and try to hide it.” The Antivan said nothing, merely reaching for the wine bottle to refill his glass.

Invictus raised a brow at the other mage but didn’t add in, he didn’t want to give the Antivan anything else to be upset at him about. Instead he nudged Fenris gently. “Love?”

The elf opened his eyes and glanced over. “Yeah?”

“If you’re tired go up to bed, it's ok,” Vic said.

“It’s too early, I’ll be up before the sun if I go to bed now. I’m just tired, the wine is getting to me.” Fenris replied before glancing to the corner where Hal and Arden were. He couldn’t help but glare at them before sitting back and staring into his empty glass. 

Anders sighed. “Maker, I think _I_ might need an early night,” he mused. “This ale isn’t helping much. Though it’s better than that ratpiss Corff used to serve - do you remember?” He glanced at Invictus with a rueful smile. 

“Yeah, Maker I miss those days,” Vic replied before reaching down to still Fenris’ leg. 

Zevran stirred beside Anders and glanced over towards Invictus. “Life, it seemed so much different then, no?” he said quietly. “All I feared then was the remaining Crows coming upon me unaware. Sometimes, I think things could have been very different, had Fate taken me one way instead of another. I would not change my life back then - but I do wish I could return to those days.” He glanced up at Anders. “Though perhaps I would have been rather more assiduous in my pursuit of those remaining Crows had I known how troublesome they would later prove to be,” he added darkly.

Anders shook his head. “Don’t think about that now,” he said gently. “That’s behind us, love.”

“That past is just that, let it remain where it belongs,” Vic agreed. He looked aside to Fenris, noticing the elf was getting fidgety but remained silent. 

Zevran had sat up straighter and turned towards Anders, but his eyes were not on the mage’s face. Instead they were on his own hand as he brushed it slowly over Anders’ left shoulder and down towards his chest. 

Anders reached up and gently encircled his hand around Zevran’s wrist, halting the motion. “I’m fine, love,” he said softly. “It’s in the past.” He sighed and shook his head. “Love, you’ve drunk too much wine. It’s making you maudlin.”

“Perhaps we should all have water before we retire, I know I’ll have a hangover if I finish my ale and skip water. I could take Zevran to bed; no reason we all should go in if we’re not tired,” Vic offered with a glance at Anders then Fenris. 

Anders looked at him and shrugged. “True. Zevran, I think, could probably do with sleep more than wine right now in any case.” 

“Will you be ok while I get him to bed Fenris?” Vic asked quietly.

“Yeah, I may come up to bed soon anyway,” the elf said as he let Vic get past him. 

Zevran looked a little surprised and confused as Invictus helped him to his feet; he looked down at Anders in some perplexion as the blond mage smiled and waved to him to go with Invictus. “Go on up love; we’ll be up later. You look like you need the rest.”

He sat back and watched as Zevran obediently let himself be guided through the busy common room and up the stairs, then reached for his tankard before sitting back. He took a pull of his ale, then glanced to Fenris.

“How are you holding up, love?” he asked quietly.

“Can I be honest?” Fenris asked.

“With me? Always,” said Anders as he moved closer to the elf.

“Remember when Zevran chased me up the hill despite his pain and everything? He told me he was afraid I no longer loved him, how it hurt?” Fenris raised his head and stared into Anders eyes. “That’s how I feel now, I wish Vic had left me where he found me, lying in the dirt while I sobbed. I feel so broken, and afraid to speak. I told Vic I wouldn’t run away but I want to, I want to just leave because it hurts so much,” Fenris said before he dropped his gaze. 

Anders lifted an arm and gently tugged Fenris closer so he could hug him lightly. “Before you and Vic, I’d only really ever had maybe two real relationships,” he began slowly. “One was Karl - and you already know what happened to him. The other was Nathaniel and... well. Once I’d joined with Justice, that was.... I was the one who ran away there. But after Karl died, part of me wanted to run away, flee Kirkwall, so badly. The only thing that kept me there was Justice, and I bitterly resented him then - even though there was nothing I could do about it.” He ran his other hand through his hair. “What I’m saying is, I understand the desire to get away from reminders of what you’ve lost. I know that seeing him walking around, talking to others, being with Arden - Fenris, I know that’s got to hurt, and it’s perfectly understandable that you want to get away from all that.” He stared at the elf sympathetically. “We’re not going to leave you to lay down in the dirt, because we still love you, Fenris. But at the same time, we know and understand that you’re hurting.”

Fenris laughed bitterly. “ _Do_ all of you understand? It's clear Hal doesn’t love me, but I was speaking of Zevran. I do not think he loves me, that I have pushed him away finally. I’m just waiting for him to tell me he’s done with me too. Can’t blame him really, who wants to be with someone who’s so broken that he can’t be better?” He looked away now that he’d spoken what lay in his heart.

Anders regarded him silently for several long moments. “Fenris,” he finally said, and his tone was so serious and quiet that the elf turned to look at him. “Zevran loves you. He loves you so much it almost physically hurts. Never, _ever_ doubt that. But he is also in a tremendous amount of pain. Why do you think we’ve been riding double since the second day? He doesn’t speak of it but I can _feel_ his pain. But he’s still here, still with us. If he couldn’t stand to be around us then there are several mages here who could take him back - or one of the Chargers could take him on horse. But he’s still here, Fenris. Never doubt his love, any more than you doubt mine or Vic’s.” He regarded Fenris thoughtfully. “Maybe you should talk to him. I think perhaps both of you need that.”

“It’s hard to think I am loved by any of you right now. He hasn’t so much as said anything to me for three days. I tried to apologize but he didn’t even hear me. It’s hard to believe he still cares,” Fenris finished. 

Anders sighed. “Fenris, he’s said barely two words to _any_ of us for the past three days. Tonight was the most I’ve heard him speak since that first night out of Skyhold. I think he’s simply in too much pain to think beyond that by the time we stop for the night - and perhaps the obvious pain you’re in makes him hesitate to disturb you. Zevran dislikes intruding on someone else’s pain. We’ve been waiting for you to be able to talk to us; we know how much you hate feeling you’re being interrogated. I just... can’t stand to see you sitting there so miserable - I’m not trying to pry, love, I’m just worried. For you, and for Zevran.”

Fenris shrugged and stared at the table. “Don’t worry about me, I’m used to pain by now.” The elf radiated misery as he sat there. “Why don’t you go on up to bed? I think I’m going to take a walk so I’ll be tired enough to sleep.” 

“Zevran is used to pain as well; doesn’t mean that either of you enjoy it or should have to suffer silently,” replied Anders. He sighed and sat back. “I’m not tired yet, though I know I should get an early night,” he added. “Maybe I’ll go up after I’ve finished my ale.” He glanced towards the stairs. “I wonder what’s keeping Vic? I hope they’re both alright up there.”

Fenris said nothing, he’d hoped that Anders would have gone up and left him to his thoughts. He figured that if he left for a walk it wouldn’t help and he didn’t have the strength to fight. He glanced up just as Invictus came down the stairs. 

“Sorry, Zevran needed a bit of help getting settled. You two alright?” Vic asked as he slid in next to Fenris.

Anders glanced towards the stairs at Invictus’ words, then back to the other mage as he set down his tankard. “Is he alright? Is his leg bothering him again?” he said, worry in his voice. “Maker, and he said nothing... again.”

“He’s alright as he can be but you should work on his leg before we set out the day after tomorrow,” Vic said as he tried to slide an arm around the elf, but was shrugged off. 

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood for anyone touching me. I was going to take a walk before you came back,” Fenris said as he sat back in the corner of their booth. 

Anders glanced back towards the stairs, then at Fenris; Invictus could clearly see that the blond was badly torn between the urge to go check on Zevran who might need him as a healer, and their husband at their side who also clearly needed them. He bit his lip, then reached for his tankard. He couldn’t think of anything else to say to lift Fenris out of his dark mood, and yet he felt uneasy at the thought of getting up and leaving him there - particularly when the elf was clearly already thinking that they were all merely biding their time before following Hal’s example. He was out of his depth; he’d had so few true relationships himself, and apart from Karl none had ended as devastatingly as Fenris and Hal.

He looked up at Invictus pleadingly, hoping perhaps the other mage would have some idea what to say.

“What do you need Fenris?” Vic asked quietly.

The elf had let his gaze linger once more to the corner where Hal and Arden remained. He shrugged and finally looked back to his husband. “Nothing you can give me. I’m going to bed so I won’t ruin the rest of your night, excuse me.” Fenris rose and looked at them. “Will you let me pass?”

Anders had followed his glance over to the quiet corner by the unlit fire, where Hal sat with his head resting on Arden’s shoulder, the blond mage’s head turned as he pressed a gentle kiss to the soft red hair, both seemingly oblivious to the rest of the room, their glasses of pale wine untouched. He drew his gaze away and glanced up at Fenris then silently drew in his long legs for Fenris to pass.

The elf hurried away, straight to their room and to the empty bed where he curled up facing the wall to cry himself to sleep; silently, so as not to disturb Zevran. The Antivan lay fast asleep in the other bed, his face drawn with pain even in sleep. 

Downstairs, Invictus had sworn after the elf left them. “I take it your talk didn’t go well.” 

Anders sighed, shaking his head as he reached for the flagon to refill his tankard before waving it towards Invictus’ tankard in silent query. “Not particularly, no,” he agreed as Invictus pushed his tankard towards him. “I asked him how he was holding up, and he started talking about how Zevran had begged him to leave him in the dirt and now he knew how Zevran felt and he wished you had left _him_ in the dirt,” he went on, as he filled Invictus’ tankard. “I honestly thought he was talking about Hal - particularly given how he spent most of the time glaring at those two. But no, he was talking about Zevran. He’s fully convinced we’re all just biding our time until we can abandon him the way Hal did.” He set the flagon down and reached for his own tankard.

“I’m out of my depth, Vic,” he remarked. “What do I know of things like this? You two were my only real serious relationship besides Nathaniel and Karl. Karl’s dead by my hand and thanks to Justice, I ran away from Nathaniel. I don’t exactly have a lot of past experience to help guide me here. There are no magic words to make everything better - Maker, I wish there were.”

“There’s not sadly. None of us can fix him and I doubt much is going to get through to him. Just let him work it out, and hope to Maker he lets us in or at least doesn’t lash out at us,” Vic said tiredly.

Anders nodded. “It’s what I’ve tried to do - it’s hard though, just sitting here, unable to help in any way. I guess he just has to work through it in his own time, and somehow strike that fine balance between not making him think we’re prying or interrogating him - and leaving him to think we don’t care and are abandoning him. Just how much care is too much? How much is not enough?” He frowned as he ran his free hand through his hair, frustrated. “I can never tell. I hate this uncertainty.”

“No idea right now, I do know I’m tired and after this ale I will be calling it a night. You coming with me?” Vic asked. 

Anders nodded. “The idea of sitting here drinking by myself doesn’t exactly appeal,” he replied. “Did enough of that at times in the Wardens. Not a lot of fun, particularly the morning after.”

“Alright, Maker I hope we can get to Adamant without anything else going wrong.” Vic finished his drink quickly, eager to get to bed. “Escort you to bed my love?” he asked with a smile. 

Anders downed his own ale then set the tankard down and nodded. “Please,” he agreed. “And yes - the thought of Adamant is sobering enough as it is. Andraste’s ashes, we can’t have anything more go wrong or Maker help us all when we get there.”

**

Two days later, Zevran was able to mount up on his white stallion, with help from Anders. The Antivan held himself stiffly as he swung his crippled leg over the saddle, but once seated he appeared fine, nodding his thanks to Anders. Perhaps the white stallion sensed his master’s pain - certainly it was much calmer and more gentle as they moved out that morning, with none of the prancing it had demonstrated previously. 

Anders rode nearby however, just in case Zevran should need assistance or the ride prove too much for him. 

If the Antivan were aware of Anders’ overprotectiveness, he gave no sign of it, the reins held in one hand as he guided the horse with a light touch.

Dorian had watched the two men with a slight frown before he urged his own bay mare up forward to ride with Meneris. He nodded to Isabela and Aeolus as he passed, noting that Arden and Hal appeared to have decided to ride in their company today. 

He swung his horse in to ride at Meneris’ side, nodding to Cullen and Cassandra absently as he did so.

“Any word from the scouts yet, _amatus_?” he asked. 

“Not yet love, hopefully they will have a report by the time we make camp tonight,” Meneris replied with a glance at his husband. “I just want this over with, as my memories of Adamant are not pleasant.” 

“Nor are mine,” confided Dorian as he guided his horse a little closer. He dropped his voice. “I am concerned, _amatus_ ,” he said quietly. “There appears to have been some sort of upset between the four Hawkes that also seems to have affected Hal and Arden, though I have no idea what. I can only pray to Dumat that whatever it is, they can put it aside before entering the Fade, if that’s what we have to do. I have no idea what such conflict could do in there or what monstrosities it might give rise to.”

“I’ll talk with Invictus later and get the story from him. Zevran is too injured to be here but he’s too damn hardheaded to listen to reason, and we should have made Fenris stay back. He’s not been the same since that rage demon was finally cast out of him. If they can’t get their shit together, they will be sent back rather than run the risk of fighting as a fractured unit,” Meneris said tersely.

“Perhaps you _should_ send Zevran back - and Anders too,” mused Dorian. “Zevran is too hurt to be safe riding alone I fear - and I’m concerned for Anders’ heart. Hal is a Spirit Healer near his equal, and we have six other battlemages from the college. I believe Garrett Gallowglas is also a fairly decent battlefield healer.” He turned and looked at Meneris. “Send them back, _amatus_. It would be for their own good.”

“It would but I think sending Anders and Zevran off will be a mistake for now. One will see it as punishment, the other as if we’re confirming he’s useless. Hal is a good healer, but not as good as Anders. Let’s see what happens over the next few days and if they continue to be the same; then send them along,” Meneris replied.

Dorian inclined his head slightly. “I will concede to your better judgement, _amatus_ ,” he replied. “But I do hope they sort this out between themselves sooner rather than later, before they can start to have an effect on the morale of others. The battlemages already seem uneasy and on edge, and Krem has confided to me that Callus’ performance has been distinctly unsatisfactory as he appears to be somewhat distracted by the drama around his father and Hal.” He shook his head. “Dumat only knows what’s gotten into the lot of them. I cannot help but remember what Arden said about encountering the influence of demons as we got closer to Adamant, but I didn’t think we’d see signs of it this early.”

“These are demons of their own making, not of the Fade. Come on love, we should catch up with Cullen, I’d like to talk to him about plans as we get closer to the fortress,” Meneris said with a glance to the Hawkes before spurring his horse forward.

“Inquis- Meneris,” Cullen corrected himself. “No word from the scouts as yet.” 

“We have no idea what we may be facing at Adamant,” remarked Cassandra. The Pentaghast-Rutherfords rode a matching pair of jet-black destriers, the horses’ strides matching perfectly. “The wardens all left the fortress after we defeated Erimond and Clarel was dead, but that does not guarantee that the fortress remained empty.”

“We’ll just have to see when we arrive. If the scouts check in with you after we make camp for the night, let me know Cullen,” Meneris said with a smile at them. “I daresay any fools left will run at the sight of you two.” 

Cullen saluted out of sheer force of habit. “I will, Inquis - forgive me, Meneris,” he corrected himself once again. Cassandra snorted then leaned over to pat Cullen’s hand. He glanced at her with a troubled look in his eyes, then glanced back to Meneris. “Please excuse me - I’ll go check with Krem and see if he has any scouts up ahead or any advance intelligence.”

He wheeled his black horse around smartly then trotted back down the line of horses and wagons in search of the commander of the Chargers. Cassandra watched him go, then turned back to Meneris with a small sigh.

“It is the lyrium, of course,” she confided quietly. “He remains free of it, but the damage was done long ago, and he is... forgetful at times now.”

“It’s fine Cassandra. Go on and take care of your men, and I’ll find you when we break for the evening,” Meneris gave her a smile before heading further up the line.

Hal and Arden were riding with Aeolus and Isabela, who looked about as happy to be on horseback as Hal did, though she rode with more confidence than the redhead. Arden nodded greetings to Meneris as his horse swung alongside his own. 

“Meneris, Dorian,” he said. “Come to check on us troublemakers?” He grinned.

“I should hope you will leave any such trouble behind you until long after we have left Adamant,” admonished Dorian uneasily. “Best not borrow trouble where demons are concerned, hmm?”

“My husband is far too polite, so I shall say this clearly for you all. Whatever is going on, either resolve it or deal with it after Adamant. We cannot go into this fight with us fractured. If you can’t work together or at least pretend, some of you will go home before we reach the fortress,” Meneris said with a grim smile. “I didn’t survive Adamant the first time to let our own failings take us down this time, am I clear?”

Hal visibly flinched at his words and ducked his head, pale. Arden darted him a worried look before turning back to Meneris. “Quite clear,” he replied calmly. “Any trouble in this company will not be started by either myself or Hal.”

“Isabela and I weren’t planning on starting any either,” shrugged Aeolus. “We’ve enough facing us without borrowing more.” He exchanged a look with Isabela, whose lips had thinned.

“If you’re looking for the real troublemakers, then perhaps you should ride further back down the line, Lavallen - it’s not here with us,” she remarked. 

“I should hope it’s not with any of us, but trouble has a nasty habit of finding us anyway,” said Arden carefully. “But you have my word that neither Hal nor I will be the cause of drama, Meneris.”

Hal lifted his head and nodded. “Mine also,” he agreed. “I just want to get there in one piece. What happens after....” He drew a breath, then shrugged. “We’ll deal with that when it happens.”

“From what I hear, it's already too late for that. Just be ready for the fight when we arrive. See you all this evening,” Meneris gave them a nod, and headed towards the Hawkes. 

He passed Pin, Marian and Garrett as they rode with the other six battlemages; all nine nodded respectfully to him as he and Dorian drew level. They saw no sign of Callus, which was unsurprising - doubtless he had his own duties with the Chargers.

They passed the Nevarran contingent brought by Cullen and Cassandra, some thirty warriors upon horseback, followed by Nathaniel and his twenty Wardens - warriors, archers and five mages. Then they rode past the first lot of supply wagons, the ones carrying extra weapons, the tents and the cooking gear; various Chargers on horse and on the wagons nodded greetings as they passed by. 

Finally they came across the four Hawkes who rode just ahead of the rear supply wagons. Anders and Zevran rode side by side, the dappled grey gelding standing tall above Zevran’s snow-white stallion as it moved sedately along, the Antivan riding easily with one hand on the reins as he kept his eyes on the road ahead and to either side, ever alert for danger. A little behind them rode Fenris and Invictus.

“Meneris,” nodded Anders as they swung their horses in to join them. “Dorian.” 

Zevran glanced to them and nodded greetings before his eyes returned to restlessly scanning the land around them.

“Invictus, can you spare some time to speak with me this evening, I’d like your thoughts on how to use the battlemages when we get to Adamant,” Meneris asked.

“Of course; thank you for keeping me involved, Meneris,” Invictus said with a nod to the former Inquisitor. 

Anders glanced at them both in mild curiosity, but said nothing. He’d had little to do with the battlemages, his focus having been on the infirmary and the overall running of the College before Invictus had taken over as First Enchanter. His place here would be as the main healer, Hal assisting, Pin attending and helping with her ability to draw healing spirits; though she was inexperienced as a healer, her powerful gift of Spirit magic was invaluable.

Zevran suddenly spurred his horse over towards the edge of the road then halted, rising up in his stirrups to stare across the fields with a frown before lowering himself back to the saddle and urging the stallion back to its position next to Anders’ mount.

“I thought I saw something,” he said in explanation as Anders cast him a questioning look. The Antivan shrugged. “It was nothing, I think.”

“If you do see something, let us know Zevran?” Meneris asked as he glanced at the blond elf before turning to look over Fenris but decided to leave the Tevinter alone. Instead he got closer to his husband and suggested he speak with his _amicus_ when they settled in.

Dorian nodded. “I don’t like the feel of things, _amatus_ , and I don’t mind admitting it,” he said very quietly. He nudged his horse over towards Anders.

“Oh, hey, Dorian,” the blond mage greeted him. “Anything I can do for you?”

“I might ask you that same question; you look tired, Anders,” he remarked as he got a good look at the blond mage.

Anders shrugged. “Long days in the saddle and none of us are getting any younger, me least of all. I’m just tired is all. A good night’s rest and I’ll be fine.”

“See that you do, then; we need _all_ our mages fighting fit and focused when we reach Adamant,” the magister chided him.

Anders laughed grimly. “Never fear, Dorian; I’ll be as focused as needed when we face Nightmare.”

“Good to hear. Feel free to stay with them for a while, Dorian; I’m going to make the rounds and make my way back to the front. Join when when you’re ready, love,” Meneris said before heading off to the quartermaster.

Fenris watched Meneris ride off before turning to Dorian. “No need to talk to me, Dorian, there’s nothing you can do for me. If I am an issue, I’m sure Meneris will speak up. I’ll just add him to the people angry with me. Go on, we’ll be fine,” he said sadly. 

Zevran’s back stiffened as he rode, but the Antivan said nothing. Anders glanced down at him sharply then leaned over to murmur something to the elf; Zevran shook his head then rubbed his crippled leg slowly. Anders looked over at the others, clearly worried, but straightened in his saddle and said nothing.

“Zevran seems very uncomfortable,” remarked Dorian very quietly to both Fenris and Invictus. “Would he not be better off in one of the wagons, perhaps?”

“Probably but his pride will not let him. I will chance asking so he can be angry at me in the open,” Fenris said before moving closer to the Antivan. 

“Zevran” he called softly, unsure the elf would even reply.

The other elf bowed his head for a moment, then reined in his horse slightly to drop back until his stallion walked level with Fenris’ great warhorse. He tilted his head slightly.

“ _Si, carissimi_?” he replied quietly.His voice sounded dull and tired.

“Do you wish to take one of the wagons or ride double after we stop for lunch? It seems you’re in pain,” Fenris asked.

Zevran shrugged. “What is pain to a Crow?” he replied. “I will not ride in a wagon like a sack of flour.” He glanced at Fenris’ horse. “And your fine warhorse is very beautiful, Fenris, but her back is too wide for me. I cannot ride her.” He lowered his gaze to his hand on the rein. “But I thank you for the offer. I will manage.”

“You can ride sidesaddle, if you wish. I meant no disrespect, Zevran,” Fenris replied before looking away to the road. 

“Sidesaddle?” Zevran snorted softly, and his horse pricked its ears up then swivelled them back towards the sound as it tossed its head; Zevran leaned forward and patted the stallion’s neck before straightening. “No, but thank you. I will endure, _carissimi_. I am sure my fine stallion will look after me. See, he is much calmer now after several days tied behind a wagon.”

“As you wish,” Fenris said before turning his attention to the road once more.

Zevran’s eyes flicked to the road ahead, then to the fields to their left where he had earlier thought he had seen something. He frowned slightly, then glanced ahead again before his eyes were drawn back to the field of wheat they were passing.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” he said slowly. “You are higher and your eyes are keen - tell me, do you see anything amiss or unusual in that field?” He was staring at the centre of the field where the rows of wheat swayed in ripples with the wind.

Fenris looked to where the elven assassin had indicated, staring for a while before failing to notice anything amiss. “I see nothing but wheat and more wheat, Zevran, apologies.” 

Zevran passed his hand over his eyes then blinked. “My eyes deceive me then,” he muttered. “ _Brasca!_ My wits will take leave next, I swear it.”

“You should tell Meneris, he can send a scout to check instead of letting it worry you,” Fenris said as they went on. He stared ahead, unsure of trying to speak with the other elf. 

Zevran frowned at the waving wheat, then shook his head. “No... this will eat at me, _carissimi_ ,” he said, his voice low. “I must go look for myself. It is likely nothing, as you say, but I must know.” He turned his horse and with a touch of his heels to its flanks the stallion leapt forward and in a few strides had leapt into the sea of growing wheat.

“Zevran!” shouted Anders. He wheeled his horse to stare back in alarm at the others before turning his gelding back and then urging the tall dappled grey after the white stallion that was cantering across the field.

“What the deuce is he -” Dorian broke off then swore loudly as abruptly three demons burst up out of the wheat about twenty feet in front of Zevran. The Antivan reined in his horse and the stallion reared with a shrill scream of equine challenge.

Anders was spurring his horse on into a full on gallop and had his staff in one hand, spirit fire leaping and dancing along its length. 

All along the column, riders were wheeling their horses and charging into the wheat to converge on the fight. Zevran had disappeared into the wheat and they could hear a terrible screaming as the nearest demon tore into the white stallion before Anders’ spirit bolt took the demon firmly in the chest, and all three demons turned as one towards the lone mage.

“Dammit, he _would_ find demons,” Fenris snarled before turning his mount towards the fighting. He dismounted before his warhorse could rush into the wheat and possibly trample Zevran. He ran in with sword at the ready. “Zevran! Where are you?” 

Invictus wasn’t far behind as he ran up with fire in hand. 

Anders was blasting the demons back with lightning and spirit bolts, interspersed with ice; in between each blast from his staff he was staring down at the ground, casting around frantically. He was still mounted, and as Fenris raced towards the fight the horse suddenly reared and lashed out with a steel shod hoof that struck something on the ground. The horse reared then stomped with both front hooves downwards as Anders somehow managed to stay in the saddle.

Then the first of the Chargers had reached him, just a few short strides ahead of Fenris. The mercenary mage threw up a barrier as one of the warriors launched himself at the nearest demon with a taunting cry, drawing its attention away from Anders.

As Fenris burst through the wheat, his eyes were greeted by the sight of blood splashed everywhere. The demons had ripped apart the white stallion, and Anders’ horse was stepping backwards from something that might have been dressed in robes once - it was impossible to tell from the blood however.

Zevran was on his feet, hurling daggers at the demons as he wept angry tears and swore at the oblivious monsters in Antivan.

The elven warrior lit up and went to work to dispatch the demons near Zevran, his strikes hitting a demon that nearly took him by surprise. “One of you freeze them so I can take them out!” he called to Anders and Invictus.

Anders obliged with a blast of ice that froze the nearest demon where it stood; it howled in impotent fury as it fixed blazing eyes on the blond mage. “Hurry!” he called. Off to one side, five Chargers between them had nearly succeeded in taking another demon down.

Cullen, Cassandra and Isabela came charging through the wheat, the black destriers’ hooves a blur as they ploughed swiftly through the cereal crop and leaving a path for Isabela’s lighter horse to follow easily; there was a flash of light and then Aeolus was there, his own lyrium lit up as he threw himself at the last demon.

Invictus jumped in to help take care of the last demon, angrily throwing ice at it so the others could take it down. He finally relented after hearing its dying breath; he sat back and took a moment to catch his breath.

Fenris remained at the ready as he stood by Zevran, who had gone to what was left of his steed. He finally stood down as he saw the Chargers and others starting to check the field for what was left of their enemies.

Zevran had fallen to his knees and was cradling the horse’s head gently. He stroked the tousled, bloodstained mane and shook his head. “Ah, but you were faithful, my poor steed,” he murmured softly. “Your end should not have come here, like this.” He bowed his head for a moment, then giving the horse’s neck one last pat, he gently laid the horse’s head down before he rose to his feet. Head down, he began to limp slowly back towards the road and the waiting wagons.

Anders slid down from his horse’s saddle and slung his staff on his back. “Oh Zevran,” he sighed sadly as he watched the elf walking away. He glanced at Fenris, then headed into the wheat to follow, leading his own horse.

Fenris pushed past as he followed after Zevran and picked him up in his arms. “Let me help, please?” the taller elf asked, hopeful he wouldn’t be pushed away. 

“Put me down, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran as he frowned. “I will walk! Let me go.” He twisted and tried to right himself, his face flushing red with mortification to be carried like a child in front of the whole company.

“Put him down, Fenris,” Anders called quietly.

The warrior set him down and set off to find his horse, hopeful that it hadn’t met the same fate as his husband’s mount. He found her and after checking the warhorse over, resumed his seat and headed for the rest of the group. 

Anders had mounted his grey dappled destrier, and Zevran was once more mounted behind him. The Antivan’s face was still red with embarrassment and he was staring at the ground as Anders slowly walked his horse through the wheat back towards the road.

Fenris headed for the front of the company to ride with the soldiers rather than with the others. He’d been relieved Zevran wasn’t hurt and had acted out of that. He wasn’t sure whether the elf would speak with him but he wasn’t going to worry about it. 

Cullen sent scouts out urgently to check for further signs of demonic activity; Cassandra had some of her people drag the blood-soaked remains of the blood mage killed by Anders’ horse away from the site of carnage. Krem designated a clean-up crew to bury the dead white stallion, and the scorched and bloodied earth was dug over. Krem and Dorian dealt with the aghast and unhappy farmer; gold changed hands to pay for the damaged wheat.

It was decided to make their halt there, in the field opposite, whist the scouts concluded their search and Cassandra’s people investigated the blood mage’s remains in an effort to discover more. It would take some time before the company would be ready to move on.

Zevran sat upon a fallen log near Anders as the blond mage washed the blood off his horse’s legs and hooves. The Antivan was silently cleaning his knives, meticulously polishing them in silence. Anders paused from time to time as he moved from one foot of his horse to another to glance worriedly at the elf; when he was finally satisfied the dappled grey was as clean as he could manage, he straightened and stared at Zevran, shaking his head sadly.

He tied the horse’s reins to the broken remains of what remained of the fallen tree’s branches, then hesitated before taking a seat next to Zevran. “Love,” he began quietly. “He didn’t mean to humiliate you.”

“He picked me up as though I were a child, in front of the whole company,” said Zevran tersely, not looking up as he polished the shining steel. “He did not so much as ask me - again, as though I were a child, with no right to be asked. He demonstrated my weakness in front of everyone.”

“Zevran... he wasn’t thinking. He was worried for you - we all were,” Anders tried again.

Zevran looked up at that and pointed at Anders with the hand that held the buffing cloth. “ _You_ did not try to sweep me off my feet, my heart,” he replied. “You would have asked before doing such a thing. Invictus, too, I think would have asked.” He turned back to the spotless knife and went to work with the cloth once more with renewed vigour. “I wish that _he_ had asked. Is that so much to ask for?”

Anders regarded him silently, and Zevran’s hands slowed. He bowed his head. “I am heartsore, tired and weary,” the elf finally admitted. “I merely wished to at least retain some sense of dignity. I have lost my grace, and now I have lost my horse too. There is little left to me, _mi cuore_ ; do not chide me for resenting having even that taken from me.”

“Zevran... do you want to go back?” asked Anders softly.

Zevran was silent.

“Zevran...?” prompted the mage.

“Yes,” Zevran finally whispered. “But I swore I would not desert you, and Zevran Arainai Hawke is no oathbreaker. I will go on with you all.”

Anders sighed, unable to make reply to that.

Invictus had come by while they spoke but remained quiet until they were done. “Are you sure you won’t go back Zev? There is no shame in it and you’re not deserting us,” Vic said.

“If Meneris sends me back, then I will go,” said Zevran slowly. “But I will do so only reluctantly, and my dreams will be uneasy indeed, not knowing how you will all fare or even if you will all come back to me alive. I would rather go on.” He turned to Anders. “I made you a promise, and I will see it through, I swear it.”

“Very well; speaking of Meneris, I should check in regarding the battlemages. If we stay here for the day then I’ll find you after we get a tent set up,” Vic said softly, worried that whenever Fenris rejoined them he would be uneasy. 

Zevran nodded. “I will be here, my love,” he replied. Anders glanced up at Invictus, clearly worried, but said nothing.

Invictus shrugged, unsure what he could say that would help and went about his way. He spotted Fenris with some of the Chargers, and left the elf to whatever he was doing. He made his way to where the battlemages were assisting with Force magic to move heavy items for the Chargers as they made camp; all appeared well with them, so he sought out Meneris. 

The former Inquisitor was standing at a table, staring down at a bundle of bloodstained cloth and various scraps of bloodied paper as two scouts gave their reports on what they’d found.

“... and they’s butchered ‘em, every one, sir,” one of the scouts was saying as Invictus drew closer. “Whole bloomin’ family, save one small child we found ‘idin’ under a bed upstairs.”

“We left ‘er with the farmer, next farm over,” nodded the other scout. “Looked like them Venatori shits, right enough - robes an’ all.”

“May I join you Meneris? Or do you need to speak with them privately?” Invictus asked as he saw the bloodied items. 

Meneris had been staring at the items, frowning as he pondered and listened; he glanced up at Invictus then waved for him to join them as they continued their report.

“Two other farms were the same,” the second scout went on. “Whole families massacred or gone, food still on the table. Haven’t seen anything like this since the Inquisition, sir.”

“Damn.” Meneris rubbed at his face, unhappy of the reminder. “Check any remaining farms that you can get to and back before nightfall. We’ll just stay here and move out at first light tomorrow. Give the order to set camp.” 

Invictus frowned as well, his thoughts back to the escape from the blight so long ago. “The battlemages are accounted for; thankfully no one was seriously hurt in that fight. I will stay with them when we break camp tomorrow and as we ride. If we get ambushed again, I won’t be so far off.” 

Meneris nodded; then brought his fist down hard on the table. “Damn it, we should have had scouts and outriders either side of the column,” he swore. “We would never have made such a mistake when we were fighting Corypheus!”

“Meneris, you aren’t the only one at fault here,” chided Cullen. “None of us thought to suggest it either. Be thankful for Zevran’s sharp eyes - and that all this mistake cost us was one horse. But evidently the Venatori are more of a threat still than any of us had supposed.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Why don’t you find Dorian until the scouts return and I’ll check in with my husbands. We can convene over dinner as planned ok?” Vic asked.

Meneris turned to the scouts and dismissed them with a nod, then turned back to Invictus. “I don’t exactly have much choice,” he replied. “The rest of the scouts haven’t returned yet, and Creators know how long until they do.” He turned to Cullen. “Pass the order to make camp.”

“By your order,” Cullen replied and gave a slight bow before departing.

“Go rest, I’ll talk to you later.” Invictus gave him a salute before heading off in search of his spouses. 

He found Anders and Zevran still sitting where he had left them; he reached them at the same moment as Callus, who looked relieved to see him.

“Invictus - do you know where my father is? The tent’s ready for you all and I was coming to see if Zevran needed a hand. I can’t find Father anywhere,” said the youth, frowning. “I thought he would be here with you three.”

“No, I saw him with the Chargers last,” Vic replied warily, not liking that Callus having to seek out Fenris and not knowing where his father was. The company was over a hundred strong, and locating one person amongst so many would take time. “I’ll go find him.” 

Invictus searched all over for the elven warrior, finally finding him with his horse, brushing her down. “Hey love, you ok?” he asked as he settled on a rock.

“Not really, no,” Fenris replied as he continued to care for the horse, not looking at Invictus.

“Want to talk about it?” Vic asked carefully.

The warrior sighed as he continued to brush the warhorse, seeming to ignore the question, but soon he began to talk quietly. “I...think I am done trying with Zevran. I have tried to talk, and I was refused. I asked if he wanted to ride with me, he refused. I was concerned for him after the fight and he told me to put him down. I can’t do anything right for him and I’m not Anders so I don’t know what else to do.” Fenris gave the horse a pat on her side as he moved on to her mane.

“Fenris, he still loves you. What else does he have to do to show you?” Vic asked.

“I’m glad you are convinced Zevran still cares for me - however, I doubt it. If I speak, it’s a problem; if I don’t speak it’s a problem. Right now, I just feel like it’s a matter of time before he drops me too, and I know Anders will go with him. They care far more for each other and you than me any longer. I’ve already had my heart broken once on this trip, I just hope they let me down gently when we’re done at Adamant.” Fenris ignored the tight feeling in his chest as he worked on the horse’s mane.

“Fenris, you can’t be serious. Anders does not love you any less, nor does Zevran. That’s like saying Dorian fell out of love with Meneris. Or that _I_ don’t love you anymore. I know you’re hurting over Hal breaking things off, but do you honestly think we’re all just biding our time before _we_ cut ties?” Vic sounded so sad, that Fenris finally looked at him.

“Maybe you’re not, or Anders but I’m sure it's coming from Zevran. It's been brewing a while, since we had the fire at home, how he ran in terror from me and after the demon’s influence on me was revealed. I don’t think I can fix it, and right now? I don’t see why I should bother, he’s got Anders to take care of him, he doesn’t need or want my help. Just...let me grieve, please?” The elf sounded tired and saddened himself, his eyes bright before turning back to the horse, who seemed to sense his distress and nickered at him softly. 

“It’s ok, I’ll be ok,” he said to the warhorse before feeling himself pulled to sit with Invictus and forced to look at his husband. “Vic, you know I don’t care for being handled like this.”

“I know but you are being an idiot. I love you so fucking much but you’re digging a damned hole and covering yourself with dirt for no reason. Zevran loves you, Anders loves you and I love you. Tonight, for the love of Mythal please try and talk to them. I will be at your side but you need to say this to them so they can tell you how they feel and you can stop making assumptions. We married each other, and remember you are the one that left us that time, not--” Vic was cut off when Fenris pulled back from him with a snarl.

“You know I was not myself! That was when that damned demon was influencing my mind. Do not…” Fenris faltered as he stared at Invictus for a moment. “What if it’s influencing me still?”

“The demon is gone; we killed it though, it was a hard fight. It’s not still in you nor in your head. This? This is all you love. The fear you have, the inability to think you’re worth loving, all of it has always been you. It’s been a thing since we got together and it hasn’t changed; it needs to, or we will fracture. Just fucking talk to them tonight. If you come away from it honestly thinking they don’t love you? There’s nothing any of us can do to make you believe it. If you think we’re just waiting to leave you, and you won’t listen to sense? I can’t make you, nor can they. Just think about what I’ve said and when you’re ready find us and say your piece, then hear them out. Please, Fenris.” Vic gave him a sad smile before heading off to the tent so he could compose himself and forewarn the others.

The elven warrior sat, dropped his head to his hands and considered his longest love’s words for a long time before heading into the forest of tents and finding one of the larger tents had been assigned to the four of them. Fenris entered, head down and fearful of how things could go. He’d resolved to accept whatever they said, though he was afraid of what was going to transpire. “I’d like to talk, all of us if you... if you’ve got time,” he said before glancing up at them and back to the dirt floor of their tent.

Anders glanced up from where he knelt by Zevran’s bedroll; his hands rested either side of the Antivan elf’s thigh, lit up with the glowing blue aura of healing magic. Zevran turned his head and stared at Fenris.

“Of course, love,” said Anders. “Go ahead - I can listen as I work on Zevran’s leg.”

“And I, too, am not going anywhere presently,” replied Zevran, shrugging as best as he was able whilst lying on his back upon the bedroll.

Fenris let his gaze stay on the floor; it was easier if he didn’t look a them as he spoke. “You must know by know Hal ended things with me. I’m...I’ve been feeling fragile, and honestly? I’m wondering if you are going to do the same. It's like when Zevran ran up the hill despite his injuries, and told me he thought I no longer loved him when the opposite is true. It feels like we’ve split off, me with Vic, and you two together. I don’t feel like I’m wanted or needed any longer, except maybe by Invictus. If you don’t love me anymore, please just tell me so I can grieve that as well,” he finished, voice quiet and hunched in on himself as he awaited their answer. 

Invictus came up behind him and held the elf, saddened by how defeated he sounded. “I’m not leaving you Fenris, we’ve been through too much together,” he said quietly before looking at Anders and Zevran.

Anders sat back, his attention fully on Fenris, a bewildered and hurt look in his eyes. “But... then... did my words back in Crestwood mean nothing to you, Fenris? I _told_ you that we love you! How often have I told you I love you, Fenris? Over and over I’ve said it - both before we left Skyhold, even though you were pulling away from us, and since we’ve been on the road. What more do you want from me? How can I convince you of my love when you turn away from me and won’t even talk? When have I ever said that I would leave you?” He shook his head slowly.

“Fenris, I don’t know what more of myself I can give you, if my heart isn’t enough for you.” He bowed his head. “It isn’t Zevran and I who have split away from you and Vic - it’s you who has pulled away from us, Fenris.” His voice broke upon the elf’s name.

Zevran’s eyes had remained upon Anders the whole time the mage spoke. As Anders’ breath hitched, he pushed himself up onto one arm, reaching out to Anders with his other hand. Anders reached for him blindly, and Zevran took his hand and squeezed it slightly before looking up at Fenris, his face blank and unreadable as he merely stared at the other elf, waiting for him to answer Anders’ words.

“I…” Fenris fell silent, unable to find words. Instead he stared at Zevran. “I heard you in Crestwood Anders, but my heart is broken. I have pulled away because I feel as if I would be in the way of you both. Though I would hear what Zevran has to say, as I've heard from you and Invictus that he loves me but not from him directly.” 

He continued to stare down the other elf, unsure what he'd say if anything. 

Zevran glanced away, to gaze a little past Anders’ shoulder. “You are looming again, _carissimi_ ,” he said softly. “You wish to hear me say I love you? I do. There has never been a moment in which I have stopped loving you.” He closed his eyes. “Which is why it hurts only the more when you pull away from us and my attempt to reach you is ignored - or worse still, rebuffed with harshness, as you did on our first day upon the road out of Skyhold.”

He opened his eyes again slowly, still gazing over Anders’ shoulder, his voice still soft, sad, tired. “This is not the time to speak of these things. Your grief for what you had with Hal is yet raw still. Your mood is mercurial at the best of times, _carissimi_ ; this we all know - how often has your sadness turned to rage, lashing out in anger at those whose only fault was to love you? You are hurting, and I am in pain; and if we discuss these things now then I fear things may be said that cannot be unsaid should you lose your temper. ” He closed his eyes. “I am so sick of fighting,” he murmured quietly. He had thumbed Fenris’ ring upon his hand, turning it without thought or conscious awareness of it.

Anders reached for him, eyes widening slightly; feeling Anders’ hands upon his shoulders, the Antivan opened his eyes. He let his gaze meet Anders’ eyes and he smiled sadly, reaching up to pat the mage’s arm reassuringly before glancing in Fenris’ direction, his eyes lowered. “I still love you, Fenris. You must be content with that for now; anything more should wait until we are all more clear-minded.”

He sat up, patting Anders’ arm again as he turned away, then reached for the hem of his shirt. He tugged it off over his head with a low grunt of pain, then glanced down at a dark livid bruise that mottled the skin over his ribs down the left side of his torso, brushing it lightly with his fingertips, a slight frown upon his face. He reached down with some effort to tug his boots off; wordlessly, Anders moved to his feet and began to tug them off as Zevran gave up, leaning back on his hands with a low sigh to watch Anders tug the boots off then stand them neatly to one side.

Then wordlessly he held out one hand towards Fenris, not looking up. The warrior took his love’s hand and joined him, cuddling with Zevran, glad for his wisdom and willingness to listen. “Thank you, Zevran and Anders. I love you.” Soon he felt Invictus scooting in behind him, an arm wrapped gently around the his waist as the brunet laid down.

Fenris was quiet, but could not sleep for a long time as he pondered what would happen once they reached Adamant. Zevran was restless in his arms; it was a little while after Anders had fallen asleep beside them that finally the Antivan stilled, his breathing becoming slow and deep. 

Fenris drifted off to sleep eventually, but it seemed he’d barely closed his eyes when he felt Zevran suddenly twitch and jerk in his arms. Instantly awake, Fenris could tell from the pitch darkness that it was late into the night.

Zevran gave a shudder then kicked one leg out as he gave a strangled gasp.

Fenris could hear Anders stirring awake then giving a soft gasp of indrawn breath then the mage’s voice, groggy and thick with sleep. “Dark - too dark -”

Soft magelight bloomed into life; in it’s gentle glow, Fenris glanced over to see Anders sitting up, hair dishevelled and eyes still heavy with sleep as he stared down at Zevran who was shuddering in Fenris’ arms, tossing his head as he gave a guttural groan. The magelight floated over his head, bathing them all in silvery radiance.

“A nightmare?” Anders guessed. “Not surprising after that demon attack.”

Fenris gently shook the dreaming Antivan. “Zevran! Zevran, wake up!” he called, then shook the unresponsive elf harder. Zevran was caught fast in the throes of the dream. 

“Blood -” he said indistinctly. “Drowning - drowning in blood - no -”

“Let me try an Invigorate," said Anders. Fenris could feel the mage drawing on his magic as Anders laid a hand on Zevran’s chest, and then he pushed the magic into Zevran’s body and the elf woke with a start and a loud, sharp inhaled breath. His eyes as they flew open were wide and panicked for a moment until they focused on Fenris as he leaned over the blond elf, and then they fluttered closed as Zevran gave a low groan. 

“ _Carissimi_ ,” he slurred. “I thought -”

“Hush,” said Anders gently. “It was just a dream. You’re safe now.”

“Just a bad dream Zevran, you're safe, it's ok,” Fenris said softly as he rubbed a thumb over the other elf's cheek. “I'll keep you safe, let me hold you?” he asked.

Invictus had sat up and was looking around in confusion. “What happened?” he mumbled.

Zevran opened his eyes again; his breathing was slowing from the desperate panting in the throes of his nightmare to a calmer rhythm. “It was the demons,” he said quietly. “The three that took my horse - they held me, held me down and I was helpless as the blood -” He broke off and shuddered. “No, I cannot speak of it,” he whispered. 

“Will you be alright if I hold you until you sleep again?” Fenris asked, worried that he'd upset the other elf if he held him too close. 

Zevran slowly sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “Perhaps... though my mind feels too uneasy for sleep just yet,” he confessed. “Strange... I am not usually given to such fanciful and unpleasant dreams.”

“It was a pretty unsettling day, Zevran,” Anders pointed out. He reached for the nearest waterskin and unstoppered it, passing it to Zevran who nodded his thanks before drinking deeply.

“Unsettling? Perhaps. If this is how I am after one little encounter with demons, then how will I be when we reach Adamant?” He made a disgusted noise and shook his head. “And now I have disturbed you all. I am sorry.”

“It's ok Zev. Maybe you and Fenris can take a little walk around camp and it will settle your mind enough to sleep?” Vic suggested. 

“Promise I won't pick you up without asking again,” Fenris said shyly. 

Zevran bowed his head for a moment then nodded. “Perhaps the night air will help,” he agreed.

Anders passed him his boots; Zevran bent down to tug them on then doubled over, clutching his ribs.

“Zevran, let me -” began Anders; the elf straightened and waved him away.

“It is nothing,” he replied as he grabbed his shirt then got to his feet and tugged it on. “Some bruising, no more. Doubtless it happened when the demons pulled down my horse.” A sad look crossed his face and he sighed. “Ah, my poor, brave horse. He should not have met such an end as that.” 

He shook his head sharply, as though to shake off the melancholy, then reached for his leather jerkin. “Come, _carissimi_ ; I wish to see the stars.”

“Lead on, I'm just getting my pack.” Fenris grabbed a small pack with potions so he could attempt getting the rogue to take at least a healing draught. He waved off the others and followed Zevran out of the tent.

The Antivan paused outside the tent, glancing around in the darkness as he drew a slow breath of the night air. He glanced at Fenris as the other elf emerged from the tent behind him, and he glanced down at the bag in Fenris’ hand then smiled wryly. “You did not believe me that it is nothing, _carissimi_?” he asked quietly.

“You nearly fell over trying to put on your boots, so I offer you a potion. If you won't take it, then you won't. That bruise is bad but I won't force you to do anything Zevran,” Fenris said quietly. 

At Fenris’ words, Zevran lifted his hand to press it against his side, over the bruised ribs as he stared down at the ground. He gave a low sigh. Then silently he held out a hand for the potion without looking up. He felt the other elf gently press the smooth cool glass vial into his hand; uncorking it, he downed it swiftly before throwing aside the empty vial and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“That was not one of Anders’, I think,” he remarked absently as he lifted his head to gaze in the direction of the corral where the company’s horses were tethered.

“I'm sorry Zevran, I wish I had spotted the demons when you asked me to look. Your horse was good to you,” Fenris said as he held his hand out for the other elf so they could walk.

“There are many scouts in this company, and not one of them saw the demons either,” replied Zevran as he linked his fingers with those of Fenris. “And perhaps if I had called out rather than riding off myself then matters would have been different.” There was a wistfulness to his voice. “I was a fool, Fenris.”

“You acted, it's what you do. Never call yourself a fool Zevran for doing what is second nature to you.” Fenris tugged at him gently so they could make a circuit of camp, and maybe get back to sleep afterward. He was thoughtful as they slowly walked.

Zevran glanced up at the stars as they walked. “What will you do, do you think, Fenris? When all this is over, and Nightmare is finished?”

“What do you mean? If I survive, I hope to return home with you, Vic and Anders. What else would I do?” Fenris asked warily.

Zevran’s eyes were still on the stars rather than on the man who walked beside him. “I am not sure, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly, an uncertain note in his voice. “I am afraid for us all, Fenris. For the things that have been driving us all apart.” He halted, then turned to Fenris.

“ _Carissimi_... I am worried about you. This anger you hold inside you like a poison - it poisons us all, every time it slips out a little more. It drives you away from us and causes you to hurt us even as you love us, makes you say the most terrible things and I... _carissimi_ , I have come so close to walking away from it twice now, yet stayed for love of you and Anders. But... if you do not master your rage, _carissimi_ , then I am afraid for what the future may hold.” His eyes were troubled as he gazed up at Fenris, the moonlight reflecting wetly in his golden eyes as he held Fenris’ hand with both of his.

The warrior stared at the shorter elf for a long time as he struggled not to lash out or yell as he wanted to. Instead he gave Zevran a sad smile and looked away. “I will try, because losing you would destroy me Zevran. I hope that is enough for now. I hope that an end to fighting will help temper me, and it's not like I have Hal to worry about anymore right?” He tried to laugh but it came out a sob as he fought tears. “I will do what it takes, I beg a little more patience and if you will take it; an apology for all I have done to hurt you.” Fenris looked at Zevran briefly before glancing away in shame.

Zevran drew Fenris’ hand to his lips and gently kissed the lyrium-lined fingers. “I accept it gladly, _carissimi_ ,” he replied. “For losing you and Anders would destroy me also.” He straightened slowly, then smiled slightly. “I am fond also of Invictus, though somehow though I am certain my demise might sadden him, I do not think he would be quite so devastated as he might be if you or Anders were to die.”

“Do not be sure of that,” Fenris said as he squeezed Zevran’s fingers in between his. “He loves you very much, and would grieve you as he would me or Anders.”

Zevran lowered his gaze to their hands. “He loved you first though,” he said softly. “And I saw how you three were, together, long before I ever admitted my love for Anders even to myself. Invictus was happy to let you and I have a little fun together until that regrettable little misunderstanding in the kitchen of his house in Kirkwall. But I remember, that night I came back, poisoned and fully believing I might not live to see the morning - I looked on the three of you in each other's arms and I saw how much love there was between you all.” He sighed softly. “To think, I might have died without ever knowing a little of that love myself....” 

Fenris tilted his chin up so he stared into Zevran’s eyes. “You didn't die, despite my ...words and deeds back then. You are loved just as much, do not doubt it. Please, do not travel down dark roads of the past. Trust that you're loved by all of us. Do _you_ need assurance?” He asked.

Zevran stared up into Fenris’ eyes. “ _Carissimi_... I feel my mortality a little too keenly tonight,” he said, his fingers tightening in Fenris’ grip. “Perhaps my dream unsettled me more than I thought - or perhaps it was touching death so closely today. Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive, I understand this too well.” Fenris drew Zevran behind him to a flat rock, and waited to see if the other elf would let him hold him. 

Zevran sat down, then leaned in against Fenris’ side, closing his eyes as he felt the warrior’s strong arm slip around him. He turned his head a little to rest his cheek against Fenris’ shoulder.

“I am afraid, _carissimi_ ,” he said simply.

“Of death? What we will find at Adamant? One of us finding our end? Or fear for what comes after?” Fenris asked.

“I hold such fear in my heart - and I dread that fear being used by this Nightmare creature. If all that Arden said is true, then it was but a small fragment of it that was bound to your former master - and even that was enough to overwhelm Invictus. I nearly died then - and _carissimi_ , I would have died gladly to protect little Ellowynne, your daughter Pin, Anders, yourself - what is my life to that? Instead, I lived and I feel the effects of that attack every day. _Carissimi_ , how can I ever hope to stand against the full force of such a power? I do not know which I fear more - dying, or falling to the influence of that creature and causing the deaths of my loved ones.”

“You are the same man who became Crow Master, Spymaster to the Inquisition, and have laughed at death more times than anyone I know. You'll fight with your all, you'll live and we’ll retire quietly. Use the fear, do not let it use you Zevran. We will be together, and we won't let you fight alone.” Fenris kissed the crown of his head and sighed. “If nothing else, know I share your fears.”

Zevran stared at the ground as Fenris spoke; after a moment he slowly pulled away to stare at the dirt at his feet. “Crow Master no longer,” he said darkly. He stared at his hands, turning them over slowly to stare at his palms. “I think that no more of them live, but I have been wrong before. And there lies another fear - that I may be wrong again. And that others will pay for my mistake.”

Fenris turned so he was looking at the other elf. “Zevran...you're not going to cause us harm. We can protect ourselves, your past is just that. You ...know that right?” the warrior asked in fear for how his husband sounded.

Zevran was still staring at his hands. “You remember in Orlais, in Halamshiral - there were Crows in the palace, and I hunted them? I thought they were the last and I had slain them all. But I was wrong.” He glanced away into the darkness. “I never told you, or Invictus - Anders would not permit me to. But there were three Crows at least that I had missed. And Anders nearly paid the price for my negligence in hunting them down.” He curled one hand slowly into a fist as he stared into the dark. “They came upon us in Ferelden. It was night, raining - a storm. I never heard them. Anders and I had quarrelled. I don’t even remember now what it was about. The first we knew of the Crows’ presence was when three arrows took him in the back, and I nearly lost him.”

He bowed his head. “It has eaten at me for so long, _carissimi_. How often will I fail him? On the road in Ferelden... and then again in Orlais when I failed to protect him. When will I fail you? Or Invictus?”

Fenris sighed and tugged Zevran closer. “You could not have moved fast enough to save him from the assassin; you told me that yourself as did Invictus. Do not let that prey on your mind. It is…”

Fenris caught himself before he could voice something he could not take back. “Do not concern yourself on failing me, I'm kind of tough. Vic has magic to help himself. Stop acting as if you are useless; you are not. Do what you must, what you can and know it is enough.” 

“It is not enough,” said Zevran in a low, fierce voice. “It will never be enough. I must be more, must be better than this fear, my crippled leg - everything! I will not fail again!”

“I know you won't, you'll use this and work with it. Use and destroy this fear, make it work for you. It's a thing the Fog Warriors taught me when I feared freedom and myself in their jungles. You will not fail Zevran,” Fenris said determinedly. 

Zevran bowed his head and ran a hand over his face tiredly. “I can only pray you are right and that I do not fail at the last when we face this Nightmare at Adamant. But I freely confess, Fenris, that today unnerved me. And Arden said we will face more demons as we get closer to Adamant. It is as well that Leliana’s people will meet us there. I am not too fond of templars, but they do hold their own against demons, I have seen. Perhaps it will be enough.”

“That they do Zevran, that they do.” Fenris agreed as he rubbed his hand across the slighter elf’s back as they sat in the darkness. “Did that help, to speak your fears?”

Zevran laughed ruefully. “It was not what I was expecting when I lay down to sleep,” he confessed. “But perhaps I should thank my little nightmare for opening the floodgates and getting this all off my chest, eh?” He let his hands fall and bowed his head as he closed his eyes. “I am getting too old for this,” he murmured.

“Let us go back to sleep, and if you'll allow it I'll hold you and keep you safe.” Fenris asked.

Zevran nodded, and allowed Fenris to pull him to his feet. He was quiet as they began to make their way slowly back towards the tent.

Fenris caught sight of something white out of the corner of his eye; as he turned his head, he realised it was Anders - dressed only in pants and shirt, hair loose as he wandered between the tents, looking around him. Even from where he was, Fenris could see worry practically radiating from the mage.

“Go lie down, I'll get Anders back to bed.” He said to Zevran, hopeful the other elf would actually go to bed. Zevran glanced up then over at the blond mage who was making his way down the row of tents.

“Ah, I think _mi cuore_ has perhaps grown worried at our absence and come to find us,” replied the Antivan. “He will catch his death in only his shirt; it is cold now.”

Fenris sighed before he called out to Anders. “Come back to sleep, we’ve returned and we all should get as much rest as we can.” 

Anders jumped, startled, his head whipping around as he cast about himself until Fenris and Zevran drew closer, and Fenris realised that the night was far darker for the human mage than it was for their elven eyes. Anders looked relieved and managed a rueful smile as he approached them. 

“You were both gone so long I was starting to think something must have happened - is everything alright?” The unspoken _between you two now?_ hung in the air as he regarded them hopefully, even as he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.

“Getting there, and sleep will help all of us. Come inside you're shaking,” Fenris said as they returned to the tent and he held the flap open.

“Bit colder outside than I was expecting,” Anders replied as he ducked back into the warmth of the tent gratefully. Zevran shook his head with a fond look for the blond man as Anders dove back into the nest of blankets, shivering in earnest. There was a grunt from Invictus and then a sleepy growl of complaint as Anders pressed himself against the other mage’s body in search of warmth.

Fenris nudged Zevran to get in before letting his wings unfurl and crawling behind the blond elf. “There, that should warm you up” he mumbled before draping a wing over the other men and burrowing into the bedrolls.

Anders was still shaking, pressed between Invictus and Zevran, but he glanced up as Fenris’ wing covered them and gave a slow, drowsy smile, eyes glazing over as he relaxed and then fell asleep in moments. Invictus was already snoring, not having fully awakened. 

The Antivan chuckled quietly. “So, your wings still have that effect eh, _carissimi_?” he murmured; he was asleep before Fenris could respond however.


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, three steps back

The following day, Zevran was summoned by messenger to attend Meneris and Cullen by the temporary stockade set up to corral the company’s horses. Anders, Fenris and Invictus accompanied him there, where they were greeted by the former Inquisitor, Cassandra and Cullen.

“Ah, Zevran!” Cullen greeted him. “You’re presently without a mount, and we have a few spare horses here - Cassandra and I brought several spare mounts with us, as did the Chargers - and the scouts brought back a few more from those smallholdings that were decimated by the Venatori. Care to take your pick?”

Meneris gestured at the stockade. “These are all the spare horses. Take your time and find one that suits you.”

Zevran turned and looked at the horses that milled restlessly in the stockade. Then slowly he climbed up onto the wooden rails and stared out over them. 

There were many fine horses gathered there; spirited mares, sturdy geldings, a couple of fine coursers. But Zevran’s eye was drawn to one particular horse: a jet-black destrier that stood taller than the other animals, with a proud, fiery look in its dark eyes as it tossed its head. It had a short back and well-muscled loin, strong bones, and a well-arched neck. As it turned, they could see it had well-muscled hindquarters; this animal would be fast, able to easily coil and spring to stop, spin, turn or sprint forward.

One of the groomsmen standing nearby saw where Zevran’s eye was drawn and shook his head. “You don’t want to go near that one, Ser Elf; he’s a mean ‘un. Bitten three of my grooms and won’t be ridden. He’s barely broken.”

Zevran ignored him, as he stared at the black stallion. He climbed down into the stockade and began to limp slowly through the herd.

“Zevran!” exclaimed Fenris, alarmed as the other elf approached the black destrier which was tossing its head as it eyed Zevran and brayed a whinnying challenge to the interloper in the herd. 

Anders checked Fenris’ instinctive lurch; on the other side, Invictus was also holding him back.

“Fenris, wait!” urged Anders. “If anyone can handle that horse, it’s Zevran. He’s as good a judge of horses as I am and has a deft touch with them. Hold fast and watch!”

The stallion snorted and stomped its forefoot, pawing the ground; uneasy, the other horses moved away from it and the elf who stood there, his eyes on the ground a little to the left and slightly sideways on to the stallion. The black horse reared up, hooves lashing out at the air above Zevran’s head and it seemed it was about to bring those great feathered feet down upon the unprotected blond head.

Zevran sat down with his head bowed.

“What is he doing? He’ll get himself killed!” hissed Fenris.

“I hope to the Creators your husband knows what he’s doing, Invictus,” confided Meneris.

“Void, so do I,” muttered the mage. 

The stallion seemed perplexed by this small figure that sat huddled near its feet. Snorting, it eyed him warily before lowering its great head to sniff the air.

Zevran reached into a pocket and produced an apple which he held out, not looking up. The stallion snorted again in alarm and wheeled away to stand staring back at him, alert. When the elf didn’t move, the horse cautiously moved closer before spooking again.

Three times this happened - the destrier drawing closer only to wheel away, snorting in alarm, Zevran sitting still and motionless until finally the horse approached close enough to sniff the proffered fruit. Then delicately it accepted it, crunching it up in its powerful jaws as it drooled juices over the elf’s hand. Zevran merely reached into his pocket for another apple. The horse snorted and reared up its head at the movement, but only retreated one step before lowering its head to accept the second apple.

By the third apple, it was moving forward eagerly and nudged Zevran’s arm with its muzzle until he produced the desired fruit; and then Zevran rose slowly and stiffly to his feet and finally turned to face the horse and look it in the eye.

Elf and horse regarded each other thoughtfully. Then slowly Zevran lifted a hand towards the destrier’s velvet nose, and the great warhorse lowered its head and allowed him to gently stroke it.

Zevran moved forward and pressed his forehead against that of the horse, and it seemed as though elf and beast were silently communing together.

“Cullen, where did that horse come from?” asked Meneris quietly. “That’s not one of the Charger’s spare mounts.”

“He belonged to one of my men,” replied Cullen, his voice equally hushed. “One of my captains in Nevarra. He took ill and fell from the horse as we reached the foothills of the Frostbacks. Hit his head and died. We brought the horse with us, but it’s been untameable since its master died.”

“It appears he has found a new master,” replied Meneris.

In the stockade, Zevran finally lifted his head and turned to look back at them, a smile of unrestrained joy upon his face.

***

Three days later, they were deep into the depths of Emprise du Lion, and Anders was thoroughly miserable.

For a child born in the Anderfels, he should have been fine with this bone-numbing cold - and Ferelden in winter wasn’t much warmer than this - but it seemed his years in Kirkwall and later in Nevarra had softened him, leaving him woefully unprepared for the unrelenting bitter cold of the highland Dales. He’d gotten chilled that night in camp when he went in search of Zevran and Fenris, and it seemed he’d never fully managed to get warm again since then.

It was small consolation that Dorian appeared to fare no better than he; the Tevinter magister had started complaining at the first flakes of snow as the road led them up into the highlands, and he hadn’t stopped since.

Anders huddled miserably on the back of his horse, clutching his furred cloak close around himself in a vain attempt to keep warm. Beside him, Zevran’s black stallion matched his pale dappled grey mare pace for pace, the elf shivering slightly in spite of his fur-lined coat. The Antivan glanced at Anders and gave him a rueful smile. 

“This poor Antivan boy will be very glad to reach the end of these highlands and return to the lowland warmth,” he confided.

“We’ll reach the Elfsblood river soon,” Anders replied. “It’ll take a further three days until we’re through and the road descends to the Exalted Plains.”

“Elfsblood, eh?” replied Zevran as he glanced around warily at the elven ruins they were passing. “An ill name. I shall be much glad to be away from it and this bitter cold, _mi cuore._ ”

“You and I both,” Anders replied fervently, trying to repress a shiver.

Fenris would have been just as miserable if not for his draconic nature. He rode near Zevran, unsure of the stallion he’d befriended. The horse seemed interested only in his new master, which made the warrior wary of his husband’s new mount. He gave the Antivan a smile at seeing how happy he was. 

“You’ve a fine horse _carissimi_ ,” Fenris said as he fell in next to his spouse. 

Zevran had started to lean forward to pat his great black horse’s neck but froze almost imperceptibly for a moment at Fenris’ use of the endearment. He swallowed, then nodded. “He is indeed fine, though perhaps his temper is not.” He chuckled, a little self-conscious. “We understand each other well enough, he and I.” He glanced over at Fenris, a little uncertain.

“Sounds like you and I should swap mounts if he’s so ill of temper, _carissimi_ ,” Fenris said with a smirk. “After all, you often tame me when I’m in a mood.”

The black horse tossed its head with a fiery snort as it laid back its ears. Anders’ grey mare swivelled her ears towards the sound, but continued on, matching the black destrier for stride. Fenris’ mare however suddenly gave an unexpected lurch away from the black stallion. Zevran laid his hand on his mount’s neck and murmured something in Antivan that Fenris couldn’t quite catch, preoccupied as he was with bringing his own horse back under control.

“Have a care, _carissimi_ ,” remarked Zevran. “I do not think he likes such suggestions.” 

“He truly is meant to be your steed, if he …” The warrior caught whatever he was going to say, and glanced at his husband sheepishly. “Never mind, that would be a poor jest. I am glad you have found a new mount,” Fenris finished. 

“When I saw him there, I could not have walked away and left him for some lesser mount,” Zevran shrugged. “He was only fearful. His previous master was dead and there was no-one he could trust. All I needed was but to show him a little patience of my own and he was soon eating out of my hand, as you saw.” He glanced over at Fenris and gave a small smirk. “Should I have offered you apples, then, _carissimi_?”

Fenris blushed as he glanced away for a moment. “Well, you know my favorite is apple pie _carissimi_. Though a few apple slices are better for the road, if not a proper pie.” 

“Then I shall remember when next you wake up upon the wrong side of the bedroll to avert my eyes and offer you apples also,” Zevran chuckled. “I am certain you will drool less, at least!”

The black stallion snorted, but its ears no longer lay flat against its skull.

“Depends on what happens after you feed me apples,” Fenris said quietly, his voice a little husky as they rode on. 

“Well, now, that would depend on many things, _carissimi_ ,” replied Zevran. “For instance, I wonder if I would dare stroke your nose, hmm? Do warrior elves respond well to that, I wonder? I know so few that I must confess I have never tried before....”

“I know other places you could stroke and get a better reaction. I daresay you do that to my nose, I’ll sneeze on you for the trouble. Anders knows I will ...purr if my ears are stroked a certain way for instance,” Fenris said quietly, hopeful only Zevran could hear him.

“Doubtless Anders could tell you the same thing of me, _carissimi_ ,” the Antivan replied softly. “And there are... other places where you might stroke me that might also make me purr....”

“I am allowed to touch you in such places _carissimi_? I fear I had lost that privilege with how I have treated you so poorly,” Fenris admitted. 

The sultry smile slipped from Zevran’s lips and a sad look came to his eyes as he gazed at the road ahead without really seeing it. “No... not entirely, _carissimi_... though that you might have withheld yourself from me in that way for that fear? Then that, too, would have only hurt me. It was when you no longer would turn to me that I began to fear that I were truly losing you.”

Fenris reached over and took Zevran’s hand in his. “Zevran…” he called with a squeeze of the other elf’s fingers.

The black stallion’s ears went flat and then it turned its head to stare at Fenris with a look that the elf could only describe as malevolent threat as it snorted. Zevran was nearly unseated as Fenris’ mare shied away sharply, his fingers still caught in Fenris’ hand. 

“ _Brasca_ \- behave!” the Antivan snapped sternly as he righted himself; the horse’s head whipped round sharply, its attention on the road but also its master as it swivelled its ears towards him, a slight prance in its trot.

“Fenris, I think I and my horse will have to have words about manners,” said Zevran firmly, addressing his words as much to the horse as the other elf.

“Give it an apple?” Fenris quipped. 

Zevran chuckled, even as he patted his horse’s neck.

On the other side of Zevran, Anders glanced over, still shivering in his cloak. He said nothing however, merely returning his attention to the road; a small smile played over his lips briefly - before he sneezed hard.

“You alright Anders?” Fenris asked as he looked to the blond mage. 

Anders waved away his concern with a shake of his head. “I’m fine,” he replied. “Grey Wardens don’t get sick. It’s just this cold air tickling my nose is all.”

“Very well,” Fenris said as he leaned back and squeezed Zevran’s hand. 

“We were in the middle of something before your horse decided it doesn’t like me,” the warrior said quietly. 

“My horse does not like anyone,” Zevran pointed out lightly. “Although it is true he has not yet tried to bite Anders.”

“Anders knows bloody well better than to let any part of his anatomy anywhere near that horse’s teeth,” Anders called back without looking at them, his voice a little muffled as he buried his face deeper in the fur ruff of his cloak. Zevran laughed, but his fingers squeezed Fenris’ back gently.

“I feared that I had burned that bridge after I tried to get you and Anders to hurt me for penance. Other than that night with Vic and Anders taking me together, my interest has been less than usual. I know I have not acted in a way that is deserving of being called carissimi. Perhaps we can change that when we make camp, _amatus_?” Fenris asked quietly.

Zevran was quiet for some time; just as Fenris was beginning to feel uneasy, he turned his head to look at him, and Fenris could see he looked a little stunned. “What... what did you just call me?” he whispered.

Fenris blinked, unsure why the other elf had reacted to a simple word of affection. “I called you _amatus_. I...if I can’t call you that, --” 

Zevran had lowered his gaze to their hands which were still entwined. “You... you have rarely called me that before,” he said slowly. “What does this mean, that you use this word now?” As he looked back up at Fenris, the warrior realised the Antivan had a look of confusion and uncertainty about him now. “I know what the word means - I speak Tevene almost as well as you or Dorian; but I do not understand why you use this word for me here, now? What does this mean, Fenris?”

The warrior was confused as he looked to the other elf. “You know what it means Zevran, why are you surprised I would call you that? I meant what I said about tempering myself, and part of that is reminding you that I love you instead of always asking for proof of your heart.” Fenris stared at the blond elf, not liking the shock at his endearment, finally seeing how poorly he’d treated the Antivan to get such a response. 

Zevran lowered his gaze again. “It is... not a word I have heard pass your lips often, Fenris - and not for a long time. I was not expecting it, and I... rarely have come to expect much good from the unexpected. Perhaps I was a Crow and a spymaster too long.” He stared at his other hand as it held the reins almost negligently, guiding the horse with his knees out of habit; his expression was thoughtful yet troubled.

“I’m sorry I have not treated you as I should have for so long. Part of it was the demon’s influence, the rest my own failing.” Fenris glanced at their joined hands then back to the road. “May I call you that?”

Zevran lifted his head a little to stare at the road ahead. “You may,” he said after a moment, his voice a little hoarse.

Fenris gave him a smile, grateful for the elf’s allowance. “Thank you _amatus_.” 

Zevran merely tightened his fingers in Fenris’ grip in wordless acknowledgement.

Up ahead, Anders sneezed again.

***

They forded the Elfsblood River that afternoon. It went with few hitches; a couple of Chargers had inadvertent dunkings in the river which was heavy and swollen with winter rain and icy cold; one of the mages also had to swim for shore, and was very nearly swept away. It was Anders who spotted her at the last moment, casting aside his cloak and diving into the icy waters without second thought; several Chargers and the other battlemages were all there to help them both up out of the water, Anders giving orders for warm clothes and fire spells to warm them both and avert hypothermia even though he was shaking so hard he could barely get the words out. The young woman was in shock, pale and shaking uncontrollably, her lips blue, and Hal was suddenly there to assist even as Zevran and Fenris ran to help Anders, who wasn’t much better.

Meneris ordered camp to be made immediately, and the Chargers wasted no time in getting the tents up in swift order; the large tent for the four Hawkes and those of the battlemages were the first ones erected, and no sooner was their tent up than Zevran and the others were bundling Anders into it swiftly, Invictus already calling up fire magic to warm the inside of the tent quickly.

“You fool, you idiot - what were you thinking?” hissed Zevran as he grabbed a towel from his pack and set to work to dry Anders’ dripping hair and soaked body, the linen shirt clinging soddenly to Anders’ spare frame.

“Sh-sh-she was going to d-d- _drown_ , Zevran!” protested Anders, barely able to get the words out for shivering.

“Peace Zevran, you know he’s a good swimmer and Anders could no more let someone come to harm than you could stop fretting over him. Relax, he’s fine and if Fenris will indulge us, he can keep Anders warm with his wings,” Vic said as he dropped his pack and tried to get the Antivan to settle down. 

Zevran stared at Anders and shook his head slowly. “You are a strong swimmer, _mi cuore_ ,” he said quietly. “But even the strongest swimmer can die if the shock of winter ice water stops their heart.” He turned away and made his way over to the packs and began to sort out their bedrolls.

Anders blinked. “Zevran... I’m _fine_ , love,” he said quietly, clutching the towel around himself.

“Oh, he is _fine_ , he says,” snapped Zevran tersely without looking round. “His heart is strong and he is fine - me, perhaps _I_ am not so ‘fine’, eh? _Brasca_ \- I thought _my_ heart would stop -” His diatribe descended into low mutterings in Antivan as he tugged things out of the packs with perhaps a little more force than necessary, his hands never stilling.

Fenris watched him for a moment, then snagged an apple that had rolled out of the other elf’s pack in his hasty snatching of things out, then sat before him, head down and apple in hand, silent as he waited.

“What are you doing? Out - out of my way, I must -” Zevran broke off as he stared at the apple, and then he reached out hesitantly for it. Out of the corner of his eye Fenris could see how badly the Antivan’s hand was shaking as he closed his fingers around the apple then plucked it from Fenris’ grasp.

The warrior remained still as he felt the apple taken from his hand, only daring to look up when he’d heard or felt no other movement from the rogue. “Have I erred _carissimi_?” he asked softly. 

“Was I being so bad?” whispered Zevran. He held the apple in one trembling hand as he stared down at it. 

“No, but you were frightened and I wished only to offer this to try and calm you. If I have acted poorly, forgive me for trying to distract you from your worry.” Fenris said in a small voice.

Invictus glanced at Anders, unsure what was going on between the elves as he’d not heard their talk as they rode. He’d hung back to let them work things out without him loitering about. 

Anders clutched the towel Zevran had been using on him tight around his body, still shivering as he watched, then turned towards Invictus and shrugged his own ignorance. He didn’t have the sharp hearing of an elf to hear what was being said between them both now, and he’d been aware of some joke passing between them earlier but he could see no more meaning to the gift of an apple than Invictus could.

“You did not act poorly,” said Zevran softly. “It is I who let my fear get the better of me and acted the fool.” He stared at the apple and then closed his eyes. “I thought we would lose him.”

“Considering all that has happened, it is a legitimate fear. But he is well, and right here. Do not let that consume you, remember our talk _amatus_? Use that, don’t let it take you,” Fenris said as he looked up at Zevran finally. 

Zevran slumped a little, then finally nodded. 

“Zevran? Are you -” Anders was interrupted almost mid-word as he suddenly sneezed, then sneezed again.

The Antivan was back on his feet as a third sneeze rocked Anders on his feet. “Enough!” exclaimed the elf. “Strip! Invictus, we must warm him - Fenris, come! Let us have our love out of those damp things and warm him up!”

“Zevran, it was just a sneeze. He took a dip in freezing water, so it’s ok. Just relax a bit alright?” Vic said as he started to undress Anders and watched Fenris pull his coat and tunic off so he could let his wings out. 

The Antivan was on his knees in front of Anders, deftly unlacing his boots. “He was sneezing before he ever went into the water, and I prefer not to take chances,” he retorted. “You wish him to catch pneumonia?”

“That’s not how you catch pneumonia, Zevran,” protested Anders, but he allowed them to strip him and willingly lay down in the blankets the Antivan insisted upon. “Maker - are you going to go insist the other mages do this for that poor girl I fished out as well?” he asked.

“ _She_ does not have a weakened heart or a cold already,” replied Zevran, but he finally relented.

Fenris knelt behind Zevran and whispered in his ear. “Do I need to talk to you about manners along with your steed _amatus_ , or do you need more than an apple to calm yourself?” 

Zevran exhaled slowly. “Perhaps I should go find my horse and take care of him until I am fit to be around people,” he said in a low mutter. “And I will not have endeared myself to the grooms by leaving them to his less than tender mercies.”

“Do you wish me to come with you, or keep Anders warm?” Fenris asked softly. 

“You’re the one that’s a hot-blooded dragon, Fen,” Vic said as he tried to get Anders comfortable. “I can go make our impatient husband some tea while you keep Anders company.” 

Zevran turned and patted Fenris upon the shoulder before he rose. “Stay; I will be back in a little while.” He tossed and caught the apple in one hand before ducking under the tent flap and back outside.

Once Zevran was gone, Invictus turned to the remaining elf and gave him a look. “What in the void is it with you two and apples all of a sudden?” 

“Hang on... does this have something to do with Zevran’s horse?” asked Anders, his voice sounding a little thick and nasal.

“A bit...we talked as we rode today, and I was able to joke with him a little. He said next time I acted out of hand, he’d offer me a apple as he did his horse. Since I am of the same temper at times. I...took a little risk to see if he would stop panicking, I’m just glad he didn’t get angry with me,” Fenris said before climbing under the covers and holding Anders. 

“I think I scared him badly,” said Anders quietly. “He was right, in a way; the shock of intense cold _can_ stop a man’s heart, even a healthy one. But it’s not the first time I’ve swum in icy waters, and at least this time I wasn’t doing it in heavy robes that weighed me down; pants are a damned sight more practical, thank goodness. I took a calculated risk - and I don’t think any of you realise how much stronger my heart is now. Those treatments I received back in Skyhold seem to have had some real effect - not enough to reverse the damage entirely, but I’m not at as much risk as I might otherwise have been.” He sighed. “He’s still bothered over that fall I took, I think.”

“There has to be more to it, he’s not this panicky even with all that’s happened in the last year or so,” Fenris said as he curled closer to Anders. 

“He blames himself for the fall, and for Cole’s attack in Orlais,” Anders said softly. “And for other failings he thinks are his.”

Fenris stretched and let his wings unfurl so he could drape one over their husband. “What other failings would those be love?” he asked quietly as he turned Anders towards him and nuzzled at the blond.

Anders glanced at the wings and smiled drowsily as he relaxed into Fenris’ arms, at last feeling truly warm for the first time in days. “Oh... times when he thinks he let someone down... when I was hurt and he couldn’t stop it... He took it very hard when I was dying of poison before you came back from Tevinter apparently.” He was quiet for a while. “Wasn’t his fault in Ferelden though,” he finally added, his eyes drifting half-shut. “I feel so sleepy, Fen....”

“What happened in Ferelden?” Fenris asked as he nudged Anders to talk.

“Hey, let him sleep - you know what your wings do to him...and me,” Vic said before he yawned and backed away before he was snoozing with them.

Anders was rubbing at a scar on his shoulder blade; he appeared dazed now, only half-aware of his surroundings. “Oh... we were caught in a storm and three Crows came on us out of nowhere.” He chuckled sleepily. “First we knew was when they managed to hit me with three arrows in the back. They were _trying_ to hit Zev, but I stepped in the way. Lucky, really.” He paused, then sighed. “Not that he saw it that way.” He glanced up at Fenris; his body was completely relaxed now, and he was talking in a dreamy, almost sing-song voice. “One of the arrows nearly went through my heart - can you imagine that? Clean right through. Would have killed me on the spot. Nearly did of course... poisoned.” He closed his eyes. “He could leave me and deal with the Crows, or stop me dying. So there are three Crows still out there, but at least I’m not dead.”

“Least... ’m not dead,” he repeated, slower and quieter, the words slurring.

“I will talk to him when he returns; rest now love,” Fenris said as he brushed his fingers through Anders’ hair until his head dropped back to loll against Fenris’ arm and the mage was snoring softly. Fenris looked to Invictus with worry but knew if he moved, their love might wake up again. 

“I take it we weren’t supposed to know that,” Vic said from where he leaned against a pole. 

“I don’t think so,” Fenris agreed.

The tent flap stirred, and then Zevran reappeared. He tied the door closed then turned and paused, taking in how Fenris and Invictus had glanced up at his entrance, Anders sprawled asleep in Fenris’ arms beneath the elf’s draconic wings.

The Antivan glanced to Invictus then back at Fenris. “Perhaps you should close your wings before you put Invictus to sleep, _carissimi_?” he suggested as he made his way over to the packs and knelt to carefully repack everything he’d tugged out and scattered in his haste earlier. He darted a glance at the sleeping Anders. 

The warrior did as he was asked silently as he watched Zevran putting things away. “Are you better now?” Fenris asked.

“I’ll be back with some tea for us, I dare say we all could use something warm after the last bit of the trip,” Vic said softly before untying the door flap and hastily departing in search of the mess tent which should have been erected by this point.

Zevran watched him go with a perplexed yet worried frown before turning back to Fenris. “He is leaving because of me? For how I was before?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I am myself once more; my horse may not be very soothing for others, but he and I are good for each other, I think.” His tone was distracted; he glanced back at the door of the tent once more.

“No, he’s cold since he didn’t come to lie with us. Vic will return soon, you should come here and let me hold you since Anders has finally fallen asleep,” Fenris said as he gently laid the sleeping Anders down then rolled to his back and beckoned the other elf over.

“And will you put me to sleep as you have Anders?” the Antivan asked as he nonetheless rose to move towards the other elf.

“No, my wings don’t have the same effect on you as you’re not a mage or a human,” Fenris reminded him. 

“True,” replied Zevran as he sat and started to tug his boots off. “And they do not serve to make me blurt out things I would prefer to keep to myself - which would have made my position as spymaster rather harder, as I’m sure you will agree.” He glanced at Anders. “Did he say anything or did he merely drift off?” he added a little warily.

Fenris regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before he sat up and leaned over to stroke his fingers down the side of Zevran’s face; the Antivan stilled then turned his head slightly to kiss Fenris’ fingers, his golden eyes on the other elf.

“Zevran... Vic knows, now,” Fenris said gently. “It’s not a secret anymore. You don’t have to hide how you feel about it - and you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened to Anders. From what he said about it, he likely saved your life by taking those arrows in your place.”

Zevran bowed his head, unable to face Fenris as he pulled away from his touch to resume tugging off his boots.

“They were hunting me,” he said in a low voice. “Anders nearly died and it was my fault. I should never have rested whilst even one Crow yet lived. I was too complacent, and _he_ was the one who suffered for it.”

Fenris watched him for a while as he considered his words. “I thought I was the fool in this relationship that won't listen to his husbands. You're not at fault, and he stepped in the way to save you, because he loves you. Complacent is not a word that ever suit you. Your past is coloring your present, stop it.” 

Zevran threw his boots aside then hunched over, head low, not speaking. After a while, he slowly scrubbed his face with his hands, then turned and stretched himself out alongside Anders and lay down, one hand resting on the sleeping mage’s chest, over the scars that neatly bisected Anders’ heart. 

“Forgive me, _carissimi_ ,” he said quietly. “The past weighs heavily upon my mind and I do not know why.”

Fenris regarded him sympathetically, and laid his hand atop Zevran’s.

“Do you wish me to leave you alone?” Fenris asked quietly, afraid he’d pushed too far.

Zevran shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Please... stay.”

“As you wish _amatus_ ” Fenris said as he laid behind Zevran and wrapped an arm around his side. “May I kiss you?” he asked after a while.

Zevran had closed his eyes; at Fenris’ words, they drifted half open. “If you wish,” he replied drowsily, and turned over to face Fenris, tilting his face up towards the other elf.

“Not if I merely wish, I want to but you need to tell me it's alright. If you need me to just hold you, then I will do that too.” Fenris said softly.

“I have told you before, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran softly. “You may kiss me whenever you wish. My body has always been yours as much as my heart is. There will never be a day when I will not welcome your touch upon my body, your lips upon mine.” His eyes opened fully as he gazed up at Fenris.

“I know but I would have your consent, as we both know too well what it's like to be used without permission. I would not do that to you as well _carissimi_ ” Fenris said before he leaned in and gently kissed the elf, tentative in case a kiss was all Zevran wanted from him.

He felt Zevran’s lips part to invite him in, even as the Antivan’s hand rose to curl around the back of Fenris’ neck and he pressed his body against the warrior’s, a faint whimper escaping his throat.

The elven warrior pulled back just to caress Zevran’s face, to look into his eyes. “May I ...I want you so much Zevran.” Fenris said quietly as he stared into the other elf’s golden eyes. 

“Undress me, _carissimi_ ,” murmured Zevran. “I want to feel your hands upon my skin. I want to feel you inside me.”

Fenris nodded and finished stripping the smaller elf, before rolling away to get oil from his pack and nudge Zevran to turn over so he could give him a massage. “Let me make you feel good.” 

The Antivan willingly turned onto his stomach, his arms folded beneath his head as he turned his face to the side and settled himself.

Just as Fenris had knelt down by Zevran’s side, Anders stirred and he felt the whisper of magic as the sleepy mage drew mana; then Anders rolled onto his side and opened his eyes as he reached out to Fenris, his palm slick with grease called up in his hand. He gave Fenris a drowsy smile.

“Want to join us, or content to listen in?” Fenris asked as he took the grease and rubbed it between his palms and started to work on Zevran’s shoulders. Zevran groaned appreciatively then turned his head so he was now facing Anders as he opened his eyes and gave him a smile.

“ _Mi cuore_ , I thought you were sleeping?”

“I heard voices and just woke up,” Anders replied with a half shrug. “Still more than half asleep, truth be told. I’m happy to just lie and watch you two.” He glanced up at Fenris. “Just a massage, or had you further plans?” He gave Fenris a wink.

“Further plans if Zevran will allow it.” Fenris said as he focused on a knot in Zevran’s shoulder, frowning as he felt the elf tense under his fingers.

“Easy, easy...relax.” he said quietly.

Zevran had closed his eyes and gave a hiss of sharply indrawn breath before he exhaled slowly, relaxing himself deliberately with an effort as he focused beyond the pain. He opened his eyes and seemed to gaze through Anders.

“Alright there, love?” asked Anders softly; Zevran nodded.

“If I’m being too rough, tell me _carissimi_ ” Fenris said as he moved on to another tense knot of muscle. He heard the breathy moan the other elf let out when he pushed against the muscle. He said nothing, just increased the pressure instead of letting up.

Zevran closed his eyes and let himself merely exist in the pain, unaware he was smiling slightly as he let his mind empty of everything save the sensation focused in the knot of pain in his back. He groaned, his voice low and husky; a soft, involuntary “Please....” escaped his lips without him even conscious he had spoken.

Fenris glanced at Anders, then dug his thumbs in deeper to work through the tension in his husband’s back and to give him a bit of what he was asking for. He listened as he moved down to another spot that was a tense knot, careful to not press against the bruise he was close to.

Zevran let out a low cry, then buried his face in his arms, breathing hard through the sharp pain.

Anders pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Zevran?” he asked softly. “Are you still with us?”

After a moment, Zevran nodded, jerkily. “Please - do not stop,” he gasped out.

“Zevran...are you alright? I don’t want to hurt you if you are too far gone.” Fenris said quietly. 

“I am alright,” Zevran managed after a moment, turning his head so Anders could see his face again. “Please... continue. I... I need this.”

Anders sat up and laid a hand on Zevran’s shoulder, and Fenris felt him draw on the tiniest wisp of mana. “Zevran, I’m going to keep up a low level touch in your body so I’ll know when you reach the limit of what you can take. Neither of us wants you to be seriously hurt here.” He turned and nodded to Fenris. “Give him what he needs, love. I’ll make sure he’s OK.”

The warrior nodded and returned to what he was doing, working on the knots of muscle he found, digging in a bit harder when he heard a low moan from the other elf, his concentration on giving his husband what he needed. “Still want me inside you?” Fenris asked as he reached the elf’s ass, and he scraped his nails slowly over the taut muscle.

Zevran arched his back, pushing his arse into the air towards Fenris. “Yes....” he moaned.

Anders gently smoothed his hand across Zevran’s shoulders, letting a ripple of healing flow into him. Zevran moaned again, softer, and Anders smiled. “Easy, love. You look so beautiful like this.”

“A little more oil love?” Fenris asked as he gently tapped Zevran’s ass before holding a hand out to Anders. The mage obliged, holding out a hand that dripped wetly. He let a little spill onto the top of Zevran’s crack before coating Fenris’ hand; Zevran shivered as he felt the drops slowly roll down between his thighs, and he pushed himself up onto his knees and spread his legs.

Fenris slipped a finger in, and slowly drew it in and out before adding a second finger. “What do you need Zev? Tell me.” he asked huskily, watching the way the other elf writhed under him. He didn’t even look up at the noise of Invictus finally returning to the tent. He was focused on the other elf, intent on reconnecting with him even with the others watching them.

Zevran pushed back onto Fenris’ fingers, trying to push them deeper inside. “Please... please, I need you....” he cried. His face was buried in his arms once more, almost lost in sensation as Anders sent another pulse of magic through him.

Fenris added a third finger, curling his fingers in a hooked motion for a short while before withdrawing and slicking himself up. He turned Zevran so he was lying on the side with his good leg and started to slide into him. “How do you want it?” he asked as he started to stroke slowly and easy as he waited for his husband’s reply.

Invictus had settled against a pole a little ways away, to watch and enjoy the show. He knew the two elves needed to reconnect so he was content to enjoy being allowed to share the moment.

Zevran was panting slightly, his face sheened with sweat already. “Hard... deep... I need to _feel_ you, _carissimi_ ,” he gasped. 

Fenris shifted so he could do that without putting too much pressure on the smaller elf, he glanced at Anders to see if he was still watching, or had moved to join Vic. He snapped his hips hard, feeling the way Zevran suddenly clamped down on him. “Feel me now?” 

Zevran merely moaned as he threw his head back, eyes closed, conscious of little else other than the way Fenris was making him feel.

Anders leaned over and carefully laid his hand over the livid bruise across the elf’s ribs, and pressed against it. Zevran’s eyes flew open wide, the pupils blown wide and dark as he gazed sightlessly through Invictus, his body shuddering and silent.

Fenris was moaning as he continued to fuck Zevran, giving him what he wanted though he could feel a little strain on his back, he carried on. Soon he was breathing harder, whimpering and calling out Zevran’s name with each hard thrust.

Anders was watching Zevran’s face as the Antivan gave soft little moans with each thrust into his body, eyes dazed and seeing nothing. As Anders gently sent his healer’s senses into the elf’s body, he could feel the surge of endorphins through Zevran’s body and knew the elf was far under. Zevran was no longer aware of them; only of the sensations in his body, utterly surrendered.

Anders glanced up at Fenris and realised the warrior was close to his climax. He looked to Invictus. “Love - fetch the waterskin, some wine, and cups. And pass me that spare blanket. You take care of Fenris, I’ll take Zevran,” he said quietly.

“No, let us switch that I have my reasons.” Vic said as he did what he was asked. He readied the items and watched as Fenris continued to pound into Zevran, and he realized the warrior was holding back until Zevran went over.

“Come...let...go.” Fenris panted as he curled his fingers into the ground and growled as he barely kept pace as he tried to wait for Zevran’s climax to come.

Anders glanced down at Zevran, then reached down and curled his hand around the Antivan’s neglected cock which was hard and weeping as the elf shuddered and writhed mindlessly. With a few firm pumps of Anders’ hand, Zevran finally came with a hoarse cry, his body almost convulsing with his release as it clamped down on Fenris inside him.

That made Fenris yelp, “Fuck!” as he was held still for a few moments until Zevran eased up and he finally chased his own climax, slowing and finally pulling out slowly and flopping on his back with a grunt. “I’ll feel that tomorrow” he mumbled even as he tried to reach for Zevran’s hand.

Zevran had fallen limp almost immediately after climaxing, and as Fenris slid out of him he closed his eyes and lay still, his chest heaving for breath and his body sheened in sweat and the oil Fenris had used earlier. His blond hair was darkened with sweat and plastered to his face in places.

Anders leaned over him to check on him, and gently he slipped an arm around Zevran’s shoulders and lifted him up to recline against the mage. The elf was pliant and unresisting as Anders moved him; once Anders had him settled and was gesturing to Invictus for the waterskin, Zevran half-opened his eyes, his gaze vacant and dreaming, still far gone.

“Vic... come take him - gently, now. He’s still deep under,” warned Anders.

“Of course love.” Vic came over and wrapped Zevran in a blanket, taking him in his arms gently and holding a water skin at the ready. “You were good Zev, so good.” he said quietly. Zevran’s only response was a soft moan; if he were aware of Invictus’ words at all, he gave no sign.

Anders moved over to Fenris and began to clean him up gently before nudging the elf to sit up, slipping his arm around Fenris’ shoulders to help him up as with the other hand, he splashed wine into two of the cups then offered one to the elf who was glancing around a little groggily.

“Did I do good? Did I give him what he needed?” Fenris asked after a couple of sips of wine. He cuddled closer to Anders, pleased to have him caring for him. Anders held him closer and set the wine cup down so he could stroke a hand through Fenris’ soft white hair, dishevelled now from his exertions.

“You did, love,” replied Anders gently. “You did very well. Look... he’s still under and dreaming. You gave him that, Fenris.”

Zevran was still lying limply in Invictus’ arms, a dreamy, vacant look on his face as he gave another small, breathy moan. He blinked slowly, and turned his head slightly as he licked his lips. “Water,” he finally managed to whisper.

“Of course _mi amor_.” Vic said as he held the water skin for Zevran to drink, gently caressing him and telling him how good he was. “So happy for you Zev, for both of you.” Vic said quietly as he watched Anders and Fenris.

Anders was pressing a gentle kiss to Fenris’ forehead as the elf slowly sipped his wine. His eyes were on Zevran, a faint frown on his face of healer’s worry even as he murmured to Fenris how well he’d done.

Zevran lay relaxed against Invictus, his eyes closed, his breathing calm at last.

“Zevran is ok, I think he really needed that from Fenris. I’ve got him, why don’t you reward Fen for being so good to our love.” Vic suggested as he started to run his fingers through the blond tangles, his aim to settle the other elf and give him a gentle touch after such a rough tumble. “Love you Zev.”

Zevran tilted his head back and opened his eyes to gaze trustingly up at Invictus.

Anders glanced back down at Fenris, then slowly lowered him down so Fenris was lying comfortably on the bedroll. Then he sat up and began to strip out of his shirt slowly, his eyes on the warrior.

Fenris watched him strip, curious as to what Anders would do with him. When the mage joined him he leaned up to kiss his husband slow and gentle. “I’m yours Anders, whatever you want you can do to me.” he offered.

Anders hesitated as he stared down at the elf, and bit his lip. But all he said was a soft “Alright, love,” before he slowly moved down Fenris’ body, lightly kissing and nipping between the lines of lyrium before slowly licking down the broadest stripe of the silvery brands that led directly down over Fenris’ abdomen towards his groin, the mage’s eyes closed as he shivered slightly.

Fenris watched Anders and felt something wasn’t quite right after the way he’d noticed the other man hesitate. “Anders?” he asked quietly.

The mage had reached Fenris’ groin and moved slowly to lie between the elf’s legs before he drew Fenris’ cock into his mouth, swallowing around it before drawing up to swirl his tongue around the head then going down again, eyes closed, drawing Fenris down into his throat as he swallowed again.

Fenris reached down and tugged at Anders hair to get his attention. “What’s wrong? You hesitated before touching me, if you don’t want to...it’s ok.” he said as he watched the other man carefully.

Anders lifted himself up with a small gasp as he felt Fenris tugging his hair; he opened his eyes to stare back at Fenris’ face. “You... you wanted to feel good, love,” he said, stammering slightly. “Let me do this for you... it’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“I do but not at cost to you, I can ...feel you aren’t really into this right now. Maybe you and Vic can trade places or I’ll just take care of myself. It's ok.” Fenris said as he sat up and gave Anders a smile.

Anders’ expression changed to open worry and a little hurt as he took in Fenris’ gentle rejection. “Please... let me, love?” he asked softly.

“Not if you don’t want to, I won’t feel good if I know you don’t really want to do this.” the elf stared at his husband, hating the look in his eyes. “Only if you want to, then I won’t stop you.” Fenris laid back down, resting on his elbows as he waited for Anders to make a decision.

Anders stared up at Fenris, feeling confused and rejected even as the lyrium tingled upon his tongue, alluring. On some deep level, he felt an urge to give in to it and taste it again; then, too, there was Invictus’ request for him to take care of Fenris instead of Zevran. And yet, he felt uncertain.

“I... I _want_ to,” said Anders slowly, but something of his confusion still darkened his eyes. He hesitated for a moment longer, then closed his eyes and took Fenris’ cock into his mouth again, it’s firm hard girth near choking him as he sank down until the head was brushing the back of his throat. Fighting down his gag reflex, he swallowed once more and was rewarded with a low, guttural groan from the elf.

Zevran had curled into Invictus’ arms, his face turned towards the mage’s chest, quiet and peaceful. His eyes were open but he said nothing.

“Fuck...so good” Fenris moaned, as he watched Anders taking him down. “Is this my reward for being a good boy?” he asked as he locked his gaze to his husband. Anders’ eyes were still closed as he pulled away almost to the tip of Fenris’’ cock, swirling his tongue around the head again before running it firmly down the underside of Fenris’ cock then swallowing him down again, taking him a little deeper into his throat than before as he swallowed. As he lifted himself up again, he took a slow deep breath before swallowing Fenris yet deeper, holding his breath so he wouldn’t choke. He curled his hands around Fenris’ thighs and subtly pressed up, encouraging the elf to move and fuck his mouth.

“Let me stand up.” Fenris gasped as he got in a better position to fuck Anders throat, moaning as he let his hand rest on the top of the blond’s head before thrusting slow and easy. “Yes...more, _mester_ please.” he begged.

Anders let his hands hang by his sides as he knelt between Fenris’ legs, mouth stretched around the elf’s cock and his eyes closed, catching a brief breath between each thrust down his throat, working Fenris’ flesh with his tongue each time the elf drew back before swallowing as the elf’s cock thrust down his throat again. He didn’t respond to the name; he felt very far from being anyone’s master right now as he let Fenris use his mouth.

The warrior kept going, his mind deep into a fantasy of him and Anders as he enjoyed the way Anders mouth held him, the wetness of his tongue as he fucked his husband’s mouth. “Anders...oh fuck...please take me, please _mester_!” Fenris whimpered.

Anders’ eyes opened and he blinked as Fenris continued fucking his throat; it was becoming harder to snatch deep enough breaths between each thrust, and between the lack of oxygen and the lyrium burning on his tongue he felt light-headed. He managed to concentrate enough to call up grease in his hand to slick his fingers before he slowly pressed a finger into Fenris’ entrance.

Feeling Anders fingers made him pull away from the other man’s mouth with a little regret, but he wasn’t ready to come from that. He moaned as he felt his husband opening him, even rising on his tip toes briefly at a hard thrust. “How...do you want me?” he moaned.

Anders stared up at him, panting. “Well, I was rather hoping you’d keep fucking my throat until I made you come, actually,” he admitted. “I thought you were enjoying it....”

Fenris gave him a slow smile. “Was enjoying it… _mester_ so much, I’ll be good.” he stroked himself a couple of times before pressing the head of his cock against Anders lips, eager to please him. “Whatever you want, I’m yours.” he moaned as Anders swallowed his cock again. 

Anders closed his eyes as he felt Fenris sliding back into his throat until Anders’ nose was pressed against Fenris’ skin and he was unable to breathe. He let one hand hang loose by his side as the other returned to slowly fucking the elf’s arse with two fingers, scissoring and stretching Fenris inside before he pressed a third finger in then drew them back slowly with a twisting motion from his wrist to brush Fenris’ sweet spot inside.

That made the warrior throw his head back and yell as he felt his second climax coming upon him. “Let me come...please.” Fenris asked as he fought to stay upright.

Anders repeated the motion as he swallowed Fenris down again. He was barely working Fenris at all with his tongue now as the elf thrust harder and faster into his throat; it was all he could do to remain kneeling upright, fingering and thrusting his fingers up into the elf. He let himself fall onto his back and Fenris followed him down, bracing himself on his hands as he thrust into Anders’ throat, finding the new angle even better for thrusting deeply even as Anders’ fingers twisted again just right to brush that perfect spot inside.

“Can I please come?” Fenris begged as he continued to fuck Anders throat, not thinking that the other man couldn’t talk with a mouth full of cock. Instead he heard the allowance come from Invictus who was watching them intently as he held Zevran in his arms.

“You’ve been so good Fenris, you can come now, its ok.” Vic said as he watched them both intently.

“Thank you...Vicky.” Fenris whimpered as he stopped holding back, filling Anders mouth as he bucked against his fingers in one direction and his mouth in the other.

Anders closed his eyes as it felt as though suddenly he was drowning; his mouth and throat were full of Fenris’ cock and seed and he couldn’t swallow to clear it. He let his fingers slip free of Fenris’ arse as he fought for breath and choked slightly, desperately trying to swallow. He was light-headed and dizzy. He briefly had the absurd thought that of all the ways to die, drowning on his husband’s cock was the last one he would have anticipated.

Fenris pulled away to lay back, unable to control the twitches and slight aftereffects of coming hard, twice in a short time. He turned to look at Anders, concerned when he heard the coughing from him. “ _Mester_?” he asked as he reached over to his husband.

Anders choked then turned his head to one side and coughed before finally managing to swallow. He gasped for breath, eyes closed, dizzy and not entirely with it yet. He could feel Fenris’ seed and his saliva dripping from his slack mouth to pool beneath his cheek and was aware he probably looked a mess, but he was too intent on breathing to care. He was vaguely aware of Fenris’ query but in no fit state to attempt to answer.

Invictus laid Zevran down gently before coming over to check on Anders and tsked at the mess Fenris had made of him. He found a camp bowl in his pack, and heated water so he could clean off their poor husband who seemed to be drenched in Fenris’ spend. After cleaning off his face and getting him to spit, he helped him to sit up and take the canteen he’d grabbed. “Come on love, look at me yeah?”

Dazedly, Anders opened his eyes and managed to focus on Invictus. “I’m alright,” he gasped. “Just... just a bit winded....”

“You nearly drowned, this is almost as bad as when Zevran was covered in come from their ill advised romp back home.” Vic said as he refilled the cup with ice and melted it enough for Anders to drink. “Are you truly ok?” Vic asked

Anders coughed again, and grimaced. “Drowning twice in one day would be rather unfortunate,” he managed to smile. “At least this time it wasn’t freezing. Maker. Feels like my lungs are full of glue....”

“Sometimes being blessed of a goddess is a damn hassle.” Fenris said from where he’d turned his head to watch them. “I’m sorry Anders, I ...was off in my head for a bit.” he said quietly.

Anders turned and glanced at him, the ghost of his earlier worried look returning to his eyes. “Did I give you what you needed, love?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah...would have liked your cock but yeah. I’m...I’m like I was after you and Vic took me together the last time, I feel...I want.” Fenris turned his head in frustration, hating he couldn’t just ask for what he wanted.

Anders lowered his eyes to the ground as he tried to bring his breathing back under control. “You can just say it, love,” he said, a little breathlessly. “It’s just us here.” He glanced to Invictus, hoping he might know what Fenris was trying to ask.

“He wants us to fuck him until he’s not thinking any more. I have a feeling his desire for pain isn’t quite what he’s needing, unless I’m wrong Fen?” Vic asked.

The elf turned his head and nodded in agreement. “I feel stupid not being able to just say that I want to be fucked until I ...until I can’t even form words, or think or know who’s fucking me of the three of you. All I can think about is that night, how good it felt for both of you to take me out of my head, and how Vic kept me on edge for so, so long with that toy until I cried for him. Why won’t any of you...top me?” Fenris finally said quietly.

Anders lifted his head to look at Fenris. “Because I can’t right now, any more than Zevran could,” he said quietly. “I gave you what I could.” He turned and stared at the floor again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you enough.”

“No! I’m not upset, please Anders.” Fenris turned over and scrambled to the mages side. “No, no, please don’t take it that way. I ...I’ve just been feeling a need, I was just telling you. I’m sorry, I am grateful for tonight. Don’t think that please.” 

Anders had hunched over, his eyes closed, but at Fenris’ words he lifted his head a little. “I... I knew you wanted more of me... you called me _mester_ and - Maker, I’ve never felt further from that in my life, save maybe once or twice. I wish I could give you what you need - I’m sorry, Fen, I really am.”

“Don’t be, please Anders, please.” Fenris begged as he pulled the mage into his arms. “I’m sorry, please don’t be upset. I’m so sorry.” he said almost in a panic. “It’s ok, I’m sorry I called you mester, please don’t be angry, please.” he said in a jumble.

Anders curled in against Fenris. “I’m _not_ angry, I - I’m really _not_ \- “ Anders could hear his voice cracking and fell silent. He was tired and disoriented and now things had moved somewhere he hadn’t intended, and he wasn’t sure how to handle Fenris’ sudden distress. Things with Zevran seemed to have had them all keyed up and now he felt that every word he said seemed to be distressing Fenris more.

He briefly had the irrational thought that maybe it would have been better if he _had_ drowned on Fenris’ cock, and then immediately had to clamp down hard on the urge to giggle hysterically. He could still feel the tingle of lyrium on his tongue, his chest still felt like he was trying to breathe through glue, and he was deathly tired.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t apologize, I shouldn’t have pushed for what you were not able to give. Forgive me, please.” Fenris said as he held the mage close.

“Fenris, Anders is tired and you’re getting upset. Maybe we should all rest and tomorrow we can talk?” Vic suggested as he pushed their bedrolls together and pulled blankets over. “Come and join Zevran, he’s sound asleep even with all that was going on.”

“Yes...Vic.” Fenris said quietly before crawling into the bedding next to Zevran, pulling the slighter elf into his arms and nuzzling against the disheveled blond hair. 

Anders sat on the floor, staring at the ground for a moment longer, then slowly got to his feet. He stood looking a little lost for a moment then turned to look for his pack before sorting through it to pull out a couple of packs of herbs and a small wooden bowl. He sat down and filled the bowl with water from an ice spell then added a small bundle of herb from each packet, then curled his hands around the bowl to heal the water until it began to steam and the smell of the brewing tea faintly filled the tent. He hunched over the bowl, inhaling the steam as he waited for the tea to brew and cool enough to drink.

Invictus came over and sat with him. “Hey, you ok?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t quite seem to catch my breath,” Anders confessed. “Don’t say anything to Fen though, he’s worried enough as it is. It’s just this wretched cold.” He blew gently on the steaming surface of the tea to cool it slightly.

“What happened to Warden’s don’t get sick?” Vic teased.

“I’ve been wrong before,” shrugged Anders. “Besides, we both know I’m not really a Warden. There wasn’t a trace of the taint left in me after Andraste brought me back; Nathaniel couldn’t sense me at all - nor any of the others even after Nathaniel took the cure. Just as well, really, or they’d have known something was up.” He sighed. “Diving into snowmelt water didn’t exactly help, but I didn’t really have much choice.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll have this tea and hopefully that’ll help me sleep.” He glanced at Invictus. “Are you alright with what happened this evening?” he asked.

“Sort of, I am worried for Fenris’ sudden panic and the way he’s wanted to submit so much. I am glad he and Zevran seem to be working towards fixing things. They needed that tonight, though I was surprised to see Zev go so deep under from being fucked.” Vic said quietly.

“I woke up to find Zevran being given a massage by Fenris and you didn’t hear the way he groaned every time Fen hit a painful spot... I was watching his face, and I think he was deliberately putting himself under, Vic. He was... I don’t know, the only way I can describe it was as if he were diving into the pain. His body was flooded with endorphins and he was just letting himself drown in it. I think he was just trying to lose himself for a bit.” He stared into his tea, then took a cautious sip before adding, “Can’t say I blame him. He seems very on edge lately.” He sighed, then glanced up at Invictus. 

“Why didn’t you want me to look after him when he was so out of it, Vic?” he asked.

Vic turned to see if Fenris was asleep before answering his love. “Because I wanted Fen to have you caring for him, especially after that whole thing with him worried you were pairing off with Zevran. A little tenderness made a difference I think, though I would have taken care of him once he started asking for being topped if I’d realized how far into his own head he’d gone. Like I said, I am worried about this submissive streak, giving in to those darker needs for pain and total giving in. He likes pain but it's rare he wants it so badly.” he admitted.

Anders suddenly found the contents of his tea incredibly interesting as he tried to avoid thinking of his own particular desires in that direction. Not that any of them had shown willingness to indulge him in any of them recently, save Zevran who seemed to understand in a way that never needed to be spoken of. Without thinking, he reached up and put his hand to his throat and then suddenly coughed, nearly spilling the tea.

“Hey, hey easy now, I didn’t clean you up after you nearly drowned in spend to die drinking tea.” Vic said as he soothed his husband. “What’s wrong, is there something you need we’re not doing for you love?” he asked worriedly.

Anders set down the tea and lifted his head to stare at Invictus. “You talk about Fenris’ ‘darker needs’ but when was the last time you indulged mine?” he asked. “Maker, Vic, you - you have no idea sometimes. Is it any wonder I’ve been spending so much time with Zevran? Amongst other things, he’s the only one who’s willing to scratch certain itches of mine without my having to practically beg for it.” He held the other mage’s eye for a heartbeat, feeling his face flaming red before he ducked his head and looked away in embarrassment. “Forget I said anything,” he muttered. 

Invictus turned his face back towards him so he could look Anders in the eye. “No, this is clearly bothering you. I...confess, part of it is fear for your heart but I see you’re stronger than I realized. I also feel guilty for what I did to you in Tevinter, I would not have hurt you love, but I will not ignore your need, your want any more. Right now, if you could have anything of me, what would it be? Don’t beg, just tell me.”

Anders turned to face him. “I think you know,” he said quietly. “Just do it. Please. No - no words.”

Vic caressed his face gently before letting his hand trail down and wrap around his husband’s neck and squeezing. Anders gasped as he felt Invictus’ hand tighten; he lifted one hand to loosely encircle the other mage’s wrist but made no effort to struggle or pull away as he kept his eyes on Invictus.

Vic leaned forward so he could put more pressure while reaching down with his other hand to stroke Anders cock, all the while staring into the other man’s amber eyes. “Love you” was all he said before stroking faster.

“Vic -” Anders gasped and then groaned as he arched into the other man’s touch, eyes fluttering closed briefly before he opened them again to keep his eyes locked on those of Invictus. He could still breathe but it was getting more uncomfortable.

Vic eased up as he continued to stroke the other man’s cock before resuming. “Tap my arm once for me fucking you with fingers, twice with my dick.” he said as he squeezed a little harder.

Anders fought for breath, his mouth widening and his chest heaved. He let Invictus’ wrist go and tapped twice.

“Good boy.” Vic breathed, letting go just long enough to push Anders back and call up oil in his palm. He resumed choking Anders as he slipped two fingers into his husband, pleased at the breathless gasp he heard.

Anders moaned as he felt himself breached by Invictus’ thick fingers as they thrust into him. His grip around Anders’ throat wasn’t yet as tight as Zevran could manage, but then he was only using one hand. He groaned as he felt Invictus twisting his fingers inside and he arched his back, canting his hips to mutely encourage him to press deeper even as he threw his head back.

Vic smiled as he pressed harder both on Anders throat and the fingers pressed deep inside the other man. He added a fourth finger to be sure the other mage was open before stopping just long enough to wipe his hand off and slicking himself up. He pulled Anders legs up and over his shoulders before working his way into the blond, and using both hands to wrap around his throat. “Mine?” he asked as he started to squeeze.

“Y-y-” Anders couldn’t finish the word; he coughed, and then suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His hands flew up to grasp Invictus’ wrists as he fought the instinctive urge to struggle. He felt the burn inside as Invictus filled him slowly and tried to cry out but nothing escaped his throat save a faint wheeze. He kept his eyes on Invictus.

Vic grinned as he pulled back and stroked harder than he normally would but he wanted Anders to get what he’d been missing. He pressed harder on the blond’s throat as he found his balance and fucked him hard as he could while giving him time to breathe every few strokes. Each time he let up on Anders’ throat the blond mage gave a desperate gasp; his eyelids were fluttering and he was finding it harder to keep his gaze focused on Invictus. His grip on Invictus’ wrist was weakening.

Anders couldn’t breathe. He was seeing black stars; the hard thrusts would have made him scream if he’d just been able to breathe... he could feel his consciousness slipping, and didn’t know whether to long for that or fear it. 

He felt his hand fall away from Invictus’ wrist and tried to keep his eyes open, but it was getting harder and harder. Each time he let up on Anders’ throat, it was barely enough for a brief gasp, and he felt light-headed and dizzy. He let his eyes fall closed, his chest burning. He was close, so close....

Vic eased up when he felt Anders hand fall from around him. He sped his thrusts but eased up his grip, worried he’d gone too far. “Come for me...look at me!” he panted. 

Anders’ chest heaved as he gasped for air and his eyes drifted half open, his amber gaze dazed and barely with it as he tried to focus on Invictus. For some reason that was important, Anders knew. He felt so close, yet so tired and dizzy. He managed to meet Invictus’ gaze.

“Please,” he managed to whisper hoarsely, not even fully aware he was pleading or even what he was begging for.

Vic wrapped one hand around Anders throat again and braced himself with the other. “Come on love, give it up for me.” he moaned, hopeful the other mage was getting what he needed.

Anders let go at last, coming harder than he expected, his whole body quivering and jerking as his eyes rolled back.

“Good boy, such a good boy.” Vic moaned as he joined his husband, coming hard as he felt Anders legs fall away and he rested on his arms over his husband. “Love you so much…” he panted as he tried to keep from falling onto his husband’s chest.

Anders lay still beneath him, his breath rasping as he panted, eyes closed. The marks of Invictus’ fingers stood out livid against the white skin of his throat, and it was several long minutes before Anders’ eyelids fluttered and he moaned faintly. As his eyes slowly opened, they were dazed and bloodshot.

“Love?” Vic asked as he rolled to the side and sat up. He was concerned with the far away look in Anders eyes. “Anders?” 

Anders groaned faintly. He seemed to be trying to focus on Invictus; he opened his lips to speak but suddenly coughed, then again. He rolled onto his side with difficulty as he was racked with a fit of coughing that left him gasping for air once more. Finally he managed to gasp out, “Fine! I’m - fine,” wheezing.

“Alright, I hope you got what you needed love.” Vic said before rolling over to get the waterskin and passing it to Anders. “I’ll do better about noticing what you need ok?”

Anders managed to sit up, groggily, to take the waterskin; he drank deeply before handing it back. He nodded, jerkily. “Thank you, love,” he whispered hoarsely.

He crawled over to the bedrolls where Fenris and Zevran slept, and collapsed next to him. He was barely conscious as Invictus slid in next to him; and asleep swiftly afterwards.

***

The bruises around Anders’ throat were fading from purple to greens and yellows as they reached the edge of the Arbor Wilds four days later. He had more or less recovered his voice and the cold appeared to be easing.

Hal had approached Meneris as they made camp that evening and told him that they must wait there for now. No matter how Meneris and Cullen questioned him, he would only reply that they must wait.

“For _what??_ ” exclaimed Cullen impatiently as he slammed his gloves down on the camp table and glared at the young mage. Hal jumped slightly at the sound but stood his ground, hands tucked inside his loose sleeves, meeting the former templar’s gaze steadily.

“We have to wait here,” insisted Hal.

Cullen’s lips thinned, and then he strode forward and wrapped a hand around Hal’s throat as the young man’s eyes widened in alarm. “Now you listen here, you little -” hissed the angry warrior.

“Cullen! Desist!” exclaimed Cassandra as she hurried forward to grab his wrist; Meneris had leapt to his feet as he roared for Cullen to stand down.

“Cullen, if you harm him then I’ll fry you where you stand, Dumat help me - you’re not in the Circle now,” said Dorian, his voice calm yet his eyes glared intently at the former templar. “Unhand him.”

Hal was clutching at Cullen’s wrist with both hands, his face red as he struggled to breathe; Cullen blinked as though suddenly recalling where he was, and dropped Hal hastily. 

“Maker’s breath - Hal, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” he exclaimed, stricken with remorse.

“Cassandra, get him out of here!” snapped Meneris as he came forward. He snatched up the nearest wine bottle and poured a glass for Hal hastily as Dorian checked the young man’s throat. “Creators, I’ve never seen Cullen lose it that badly before,” he muttered as he thrust the glass of wine at Hal.

The redhead took it with a hand that shook slightly. “There’s someone coming,” he gasped. “We have to wait. I don’t know how long.”

“You couldn’t have told us sooner - before Cullen tried to choke you?” remarked Meneris acerbically.

“I don’t know who it is,” replied Hal. “I just know we have to wait here.”

“How?” asked Dorian, curious. Hal touched his chest, over his heart.

“Something in here. When I think about us moving on from here without waiting, it’s like someone’s stabbing a knife through my chest. When I think about waiting, it goes away.”

“Sounds unpleasant,” said Dorian.

“Alright, go get some rest - and I suggest you keep away from Cullen for the time being,” suggested Meneris. Hal bowed then drained the last of the wine from his glass before taking his leave.

He made his way slowly between the tents, rubbing his throat slowly. It felt bruised and sore, and Hal himself felt badly shaken. He stumbled between two tents and had to sit down suddenly on a nearby log as his legs threatened to give way on him. He hunched over, wrapping his arms around himself, and bowed his head as he waited for the shaking to stop. 

As it slowly subsided, the comedown from adrenaline left him feeling weak and cold. He folded his arms on his knees and rested his forehead against them, closing his eyes.

Fenris had found Callus after the call to make camp was made, and was intent on finding a place to talk privately as they could, he still felt bad about how he’d treated him before leaving for Adamant. He would have tripped right over the young man if not for his son’s quick grab.

Hal was hunched over on a fallen log between two tents, his head resting against his folded arms. He appeared oblivious to everything around him; possibly asleep, though if that were the case he’d surely wake with a sore neck, hunched over like that. As he and Callus exchanged looks, Callus cleared his throat. To their surprise, Hal didn’t move.

“Leave him there, its clear he’s not well and I’m the last person he’ll want to see looming over him.” Fenris said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. 

Callus frowned. “Hal?” he called. When the young mage didn't so much as lift his head, Callus moved forward. “Hal!” he repeated as he leaned down and laid a hand on the redhead’s shoulder.

Hal visibly jumped and cried out hoarsely, then clutched at his throat as he coughed, looking around startled and wild-eyed. As he lowered his hand, they could see clearly the livid marks of fingers around his throat.

Fenris arched an eyebrow but said nothing, whatever private games Hal got up to were no longer his concern. He glanced at his son and stepped back slightly, content to let Callus be the one to speak. 

Callus stared down at the marks, startled and dismayed before a dark look came across his face. “Did _he_ do that to you? Arden?” he demanded.

Hal stared up at him, shocked. “No!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “He would never!” He looked to Fenris. “It was Cullen. Never Arden.” He lowered his gaze. “Arden would never do that to me.”

Fenris stared at Hal, knowing he spoke the truth but wouldn’t dare admit it unless asked directly. Instead he fidgeted from one foot to the other as he used to. 

“You don’t have to lie to protect him you know,” insisted Callus. “No matter what’s happened in the past, you don’t have to let him abuse you like that - I for one won’t stand by and let him hurt you like that, Hal!”

“No - wait, please, it wasn’t Arden!” exclaimed Hal, as he reached up to grasp Callus’ sleeve. “I’m telling the truth! It was Cullen - he grabbed me, would have killed me if not for Dorian!”

Callus frowned and glanced back at his father.

“That weak coward isn’t strong enough to make those kinds of marks, so I believe him.” Fenris said as he folded his arms and stared down at the red head.

Hal found he couldn’t meet Fenris’ eyes; it felt like the weight of his coldness was pressing down on him. He bowed his head and stared at the ground by Fenris’ feet. “Thank you for believing me,” he said colourlessly.

Callus stared down at Hal, then at Fenris. “It’s true then?” he asked slowly. “You... you threw him aside, Father?”

“Wrong way round,” said Hal quietly. 

Callus stared down at him and gaped at him. “You what?” he finally managed to blurt out.

Hal hunched in upon himself as though expecting to be hit. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “I... I wish I could take it back. I never wanted to hurt your father like that. If they’re saying he hates me then it’s only what I deserve - because he never deserved to be hurt like that. Please don’t let them talk about your father like that - make them hate me, but not him.” He curled in upon himself as he drew a shuddering breath. “N-never him.”

Fenris caught himself before he lost his temper. “I am right here, if you want to talk about me like I’m not around wait five minutes. Find me later Callus, I’ll be in our tent.” the elven warrior cast a final glare at Hal before leaving. He wanted to throw himself down at the mage’s feet and beg to be taken back but he refused to do it, especially in front of his son. Instead he managed to hold his head up and walk away without insulting Hal as he’d wanted. All that hurt in his heart was trying to poison him as Zevran said.

He dared a glance back, and wished he’d hadn’t. Seeing Hal fall to his knees after his departure was like a knife in his heart. Fenris hurried back to their tent, hopeful one of his spouses was around. 

Hal stared at the ground where a moment before, Fenris had been standing. His throat felt tight and hot, and not merely from the after-effects of Cullen’s hand.

“He hates me,” he whispered. “I don’t blame him.” He closed his eyes. “Dorian should have -” He broke off and tried to fight down the sob threatening to overwhelm him. “No, I... I can’t even wish for that. Maker.” He stared at the ground, briefly forgetful of Callus standing beside him. 

“Hal...my father is hurting. Do you think he honestly hates you or it's a front?” Callus asked carefully. 

“He would have every right to hate me,” Hal answered brokenly. “I thought I was doing the right thing, freeing him. But... Maker, I never dreamed it would be so hard.” He hugged himself as he bit his lip, refusing to give in to tears yet. “Let him hate me. It will make it easier on him after Adamant,” he finally managed.

That brought Callus up short, unsure what to do with that remark. “What do you mean? Are you expecting to die there?” 

“Yes,” whispered Hal. “It’s what happened last time.”

“Stop it… just stop this. Let me get you back to Arden at least so I can go talk to my father.” Callus said as he gently got Hal to his feet. Hal let himself be pulled to his feet, head bowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said tiredly. “I should never have said anything. Go. Leave me. But I mean it, Callus - don’t let them hate your father.” He pulled away from the youth and sat down on the log again. “Make them hate me instead,” he said softly.

Callus ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I’ll do no such thing. Just rest here and I’ll see you around camp. Maybe later, once I’ve talked to father.” the younger elf gave Hal a last remorseful look before heading out to the tent he’d been shown earlier. 

He found his father in the company of Zevran, who was staring at the tent flap with a hand on the hilt of a throwing knife before he let it slide back into the top of his boot. “Callus,” he greeted the young man as he sat back.

“Master Zevran.” Callus replied quietly, with a nod to his father. 

“Was it myself or your father you were looking for?” Zevran inquired, resting a hand on Fenris’ shoulder as the white-haired elf lay still, his head resting in Zevran’s lap, his back to Callus. 

Callus let the flap close as he approached. “I was looking for my father, he told me what happened when we ran into Hal.” 

Zevran frowned slightly. “You were not aware before you encountered Hal? Callus, you should know your father. I am aware that in a camp such as this, rumours fly faster than my birds ever could - but could you not discern for yourself which story might be the truth amongst them all? I taught you better than this. And after all, you could have asked your father, no?”

“I could but he has been so quiet, and sad I did not wish to upset him further.” Callus said with a look to his mentor. “We know his moods yes?”

“I am intimately acquainted with them, yes - and also with how angry my _carissimi_ becomes when he feels people are talking about him behind his back,” Zevran replied. “So! Given that I have no wish to repeat that experience myself, I suggest you either talk to your father or else come back later.” He smiled slightly. “I would strongly advise the latter.”

“It's ok Zev, you two can talk about me, I don’t care.” Fenris said roughly, his voice just loud enough for the other elves to hear him.

The smile slipped from Zevran’s face and he stilled. He dropped his gaze to Fenris’ face, then glanced up at Callus, his expression indicating that somebody should start talking very swiftly.

“We were trying to find somewhere to talk and catch up, and we almost literally ran across Hal who was crying. Turns out Commander Rutherford had lost his control and choked Hal. I thought it was Arden that had done it, and despite how father must feel about them, he confirmed it could not have been the former Grand Enchanter.”

“That is true, it could not be him,” nodded Zevran. “He lacks both the strength and the drive to do such things.”

Callus took a moment to gather his thoughts, hopeful that his father wouldn’t lose his temper with them present. “Hal mentioned that he’d made a mistake, that he wished he could take it back and how he wished he’d never hurt father. I...ah, I admit I assumed it was father that had thrown aside Hal, not the other way around. After that was cleared up, Fenris left and came to you. He’s still sitting out there on a log, crying or something. He may have found Arden, I don’t know and I don’t care right now, I’m worried about you father; I could see how hurt you were.” he finished.

Fenris sniffed and curled closer to Zevran, even taking one of the elf’s hands in his for comfort.

“I see,” said Zevran slowly. He glanced down at Fenris. “ _Carissimi_?” he said softly. “I can leave if you two need to speak?”

“Don’t leave me please. He’s your step-son, your protege, it's alright if you stay.” Fenris said as he forced himself to sit up and wipe his face. 

“Sorry Cal, I..am not dealing with it very well I’m afraid.” the older elf said quietly. 

“I shall stay then,” said Zevran. He glanced up at Callus. “I suggest, my former apprentice, that you fetch the bottle of brandy which you will find in my satchel over there,” he prompted.

“Not so former, I can still learn from you Master Hawke.” Callus said before getting the bottle and a couple of tin cups. He poured a bit for his father and Zevran, then set the bottle between the older elves.

“Papa, what happened? I thought he loved you?” Cal asked carefully. 

Zevran regarded Fenris sympathetically. “ _Carissimi_? Would it be easier if I talk, or are you able to discuss this? I would not have you further upset.”

Fenris held his cup and stared into it, hating how he felt and knowing that the truth would hurt for all he had betrayed them. “You...and I will fill in where I can, it will be unpleasant but I have to accept what I have done to bring this about.” he finished his drink and topped it up quickly, eager to have it done.

Zevran nodded, then looked to Callus. “It appears that Hal has been doing a lot of thinking about he and Fenris, but also Arden, and he did not discuss with your father what he was thinking - certainly not about the part concerning your father. He had decided that it would be better for them both if things were ended between them, and decided that as your father was showing no signs of letting him know that the relationship was ended - which conclusion he seems to have reached by himself, based on how Fenris withdrew from us all, though perhaps Hal was not aware that he was not the only one left out in the cold, as he perceived it - that it would be kinder to them both to sever things.”

Zevran sighed. “Much happened in that last month before Cullen and Cassandra arrived at Skyhold, and I think perhaps Hal saw very little of what went on. I know he is not the only one who had wondered if something was coming to an end, but he it seems had decided for himself that it must have, and that your father had simply decided not to inform him.” He glanced at Fenris and hesitated a moment, then went on. “It was clear - to me, at least, though I do not think that anyone else was close enough to be able to tell - that when your father asked to speak with Hal, Hal thought your father had chosen to tell him there and then. I think it was then, perhaps, that Hal decided your father might never openly say such a thing. At some point during that first day’s travel, Hal appeared to make up his mind to take command of his own destiny for once, and made the choice to end things for your father and for himself.” He glanced down for a moment, then glanced to Fenris. “ _Carissimi_? Have I read this all correctly, or am I mistaken on any point?”

“Other than leaving out how I hurt all of you by withdrawing and I brought Hal’s displeasure upon myself, no _amatus_ you are not wrong.” Fenris said quietly.

Zevran looked down. “We are discussing matters between yourself and Hal, _carissimi_ ; I did not think that my own pain here was of relevance - and though I cannot speak for Invictus or Anders, I do not think they would disagree. It is of Hal and how he came to such a point where he could hurt you both so that we were speaking. And I think perhaps from how Callus describes matters that Hal cannot be without feeling at least some remorse for how he has treated you.”

“Apologies Zevran...I thought it better to disclose all of it.” Fenris let his cup down and covered his face briefly. “It doesn’t matter if he regrets it, what’s done is done.” 

Zevran sighed. “That is true, yes,” he nodded. “And I do not think this is a matter that could be undone. What is regret, if one does not follow through on it or seek to make amends? And what amends could he make in any case?” He reached for the brandy and refilled his mug. “Though I think we must all find some accord soon, or things will go very hard at Adamant, I think. I know that Anders is already having nightmares about it. He has been talking in his sleep of dragons - gold, red and green.”

“It matters not, Hal may regret it but I am sure Hawke hates me for what I have done to Hal.” Fenris said dejectedly.

“Perhaps you should talk to your brother then,” suggested Zevran, a slightly wary look in his eyes as he spoke. “Arden spends much time in his company.”

“Pfaugh, he will take Arden’s side in all things. You saw and felt what he did in his name after I tried talking to him.” Fenris snapped, then caught himself before he could get nasty with his son and husband. “Forgive me, it is still a sensitive thing for me _amatus_.”

Zevran had dropped his gaze to one side and his fingers tightened on the mug for a moment before he took a brief yet deep drink of his brandy, saying nothing. After a moment, he looked up and smiled. “Of course, I should have thought before I spoke, _carissimi_.” 

“Apologies my heart, this is all difficult. Forgive me bringing up that night for you as well.” Fenris said before he caressed Zevran’s face gently.

“I’m sorry Callus, seems I’m ...a failure in a lot of ways that includes losing Hal in my life. I’m afraid it hurt me deeply and you got to see that today. Forgive me son.” Fenris said softly. 

Callus was looking uncomfortable - and at anywhere other than at his former mentor who was staring fixedly at the floor now and not looking up, his face almost blank as he held the mug seemingly forgotten in his hand with a negligence that was about to spill good Antivan brandy on the floor.

“Forgive me Callus?” Fenris asked in a low voice, sure his son had lost any respect for him. He glanced over and caught Zevran’s cup before it could spill, then returned his gaze to his child. 

“Of course, Father,” said Callus, fastening his eyes on Fenris as though grateful to have an excuse to politely avert his eyes from Zevran at the moment. “And... I’m sorry. I had no idea things had gotten so bad between you and Hal and... and everything else along with that,” he added, waving a hand to indicate a whole emotional mess he seemed to have stumbled into the aftermath of.

“Thank you, I wish I ...no, I won’t get maudlin with you both. Can you tell your sister, so I don’t have to do this again. Please?” Fenris rasped.

Callus couldn’t help it; his eyes went to Zevran, who had still not moved, before he nodded and looked back at his father. “Certainly. I’m not sure she or Marian have been aware of much besides each other apart from the demon attack and Master Anders saving Loren and -” He broke off as Zevran finally glanced up, and he backed away. “And, I think I should go find her immediately - uh, that is, if there’s nothing else, Father?”

“No son, nothing.” Fenris said as he took Zevran’s drink and finished it for him before tugging the smaller elf to him. 

Callus retreated with a nod of understanding, then ducked back outside and left them alone.

Zevran was stiff, one hand slowly curling into a fist, but he allowed Fenris to pull him closer. His face was still in a blank mask, though he no longer seemed to be radiating the threat of immediate violence that had been briefly heavy in the air upon Callus’ mention of the demons that had slaughtered his white stallion.

“Shall we hold each other? I could use the comfort _carissimi_ ” Fenris asked quietly. 

Zevran was silent as he turned and hid his face against Fenris’ neck.

***

It was the hour just before dawn, heavy mists covering the ground and swirling about the tents when a shout went up from one of the sentries.

“Dragon! ‘Ware the dragon!”

Anders lurched upright, awake in an instant, eyes wide as he swallowed back a shout of alarm. Zevran was already on his feet in spite of his limp and reaching for his fighting knives and his boots.

Fenris sat up and stared upward, his eyes glowing along with his markings. “It’s Him, Mythal.” he said in a flat voice before running out of their tent to find the dragon. 

Bugles were sounding here and there in the camp, and from one quarter rang out the brass braying of Nevarran hunting horns. Armed fighters were pouring out of tents, some still struggling into armour as they rallied to the cry of the horns; from somewhere in the white mists there came the shrill whinny of warhorses - likely those of Cassandra and Cullen, from the direction in which the sound came.

High overhead, something moved on vast, near-silent wings, the mists stirring and swirling with the wind of its passage.

Fenris turned to follow the sound and then blinked as a flash of red caught his eye. Hal was racing through the camp, darting between the hurrying armed men, his hair whipping out wildly and loose behind him as he ran barefoot.

Zevran turned to look at Fenris for a moment before he looked up into the sky. “The dragon is smart; the mists will hide him from the sharp eyes of the archers,” he said quietly. “But will they spare him from the lances of the Nevarrans?”

“If not him, then I would think they’d spare me.” Fenris said before taking off at a run and shifting to join the golden dragon, circling it slowly to keep it protected from the lancers. The downdraft from his wings flattened several nearby tents as he took off, the tents slowly collapsing down - much to the alarm of those few still inside, busy struggling into armour. 

“MAKERDAMIT, what is he doing that for?” Invictus asked. 

Anders gave a muffled yell as he tried to struggle out from beneath the heavy canvas of the tent, half-collapsed upon his head as he’d tried to follow them out.

“ _Carissimi!_ ” Zevran called, then swore as he turned to help Anders. “Invictus! The canvas is too heavy - quickly, before he suffocates beneath it!” 

Swearing a blue streak, Invictus could only join Zevran in trying to free the trapped healer.

***

As Fenris soared high over the camp, he caught sight of an immense golden dragon, wheeling almost lazily through the sky as the rising sun glinted off his vast wings before he glided down over the dew-wet grass and back-winged neatly to land just before the edge of the forest. From his high vantage point over the camp Fenris could see the small, diminutive figure of the redheaded mage as Hal sprinted out from the edge of the camp clad only in a thin linen shirt and cotton pants. He tried to stop as he reached the dragon but his feet slipped out from under him and he skidded the last remaining feet upon his back to stop almost directly beneath the golden dragon.

“The mage! Stop the dragon!” called a voice, and as Fenris watched a mounted troop of Nevarrans charged out from the camp, all mounted upon heavy horse and bearing the long, wickedly-barbed lances so beloved of the Nevarran dragonhunters. Cassandra was in the lead, Cullen’s horse perhaps half a head behind as his wife lowered her lance and couched it in the notch of her shield, hunching down as she set herself ready.

The golden dragon lowered a foot over Hal as he sprawled helpless beneath it, and then the huge beast bellowed a roar of challenge.

Fenris responded, if only to keep the lancers from attacking himself or Mythal. He hovered in front of the golden dragon, hoping they recognized his draconic form.

“STOP, that’s Fenris, don’t attack him!” Invictus shouted as he ran towards Cullen and Cassandra. The noblewoman was already cursing in language more suited to a common tavern wench than the scion of the Pentaghasts as she shouted orders to break off the attack, having recognised the white dragon instantly, as had Cullen. The Nevarrans swerved and peeled away into two columns, unable to halt their headlong charge and instead swerving in vast loops as they slowed to mill in some confusion near the edge of the camp. 

Others had reached the edge of the camp and were halting in some confusion as Dorian, Meneris and the battlemages followed Invictus as he ran towards Fenris; Anders and Zevran appeared shortly afterwards, the mage appearing winded and the Antivan limping.

Behind Fenris, the golden dragon bugled more quietly as he stared around at them with glowing amber eyes before lifting a great taloned foot to peer down at the redheaded mage who lay still below it.

“Hal! _HAL!_ ” screamed Arden as he pushed past Chargers and foot soldiers to sprint towards the dragons and the motionless young mage.

The golden dragon bellowed at him, and he skidded to a halt then lifted his hands placatingly, his eyes darting between Hal upon the ground and the great golden dragon.

The dragon snorted in satisfaction, and then glowed a brilliant and blinding bright golden light. When they could all see again, a tall figure in white robes with long loose hair was crouching down by Hal and extending a hand to him as the redhead stood up groggily. 

They spoke softly together, their voices not carrying, and then Mythal pressed something into Hal’s hand before stepping away. He glanced up at Fenris and nodded to him before turning away. Between one step and the next his form shifted, glowing bright gold again before the dragon winged slowly away towards the east.

Hal stood alone, watching until the golden dragon was gone from sight, and then he turned and walked slowly towards Fenris.

Fenris had backed away and shifted back to himself by the time Hal reached him, leaving the elf looking rather...unhappy to have the young man near him. He waited to see what Hal could possibly want with him. 

Hal halted a few paces away, and looked at the ground for a moment before he lifted his head. “Mythal sends greetings to His Chosen, and says that He is well pleased with you,” he said firmly and clearly, his voice carrying over the distance to the people now gathered in a crowd at the edge of the camp. “He has not forgotten You, and bids You to have patience. It will be rewarded after Adamant.”

Anders and the others looked at each other, hearing the difference in Hal’s voice as he addressed Fenris and the subtle change in his address.

“Mythal regrets that He could not speak with You Himself upon this occasion but hopes You will accept His words through His servant.” Hal regarded Fenris for a moment longer, then bowed before the tall elf.

As he straightened, he blinked then swallowed hard. “And I’m...” He blinked again and swayed. “I’m... I’m sorry,” he managed to get out before he dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

Fenris stared at Hal for a sign he was going to rise, or do something. When the younger man didn’t move and neither did his chosen lover, the warrior rolled his eyes when he noticed Arden continuing to stand back instead of running to his lover, so he scooped Hal up and handed him off to the blond mage with a sneer. “The least you could have done is come to him.” he snapped before walking towards his husbands. 

As he walked away, behind him he could hear Arden pleading with Hal to wake up and look at him.

**

Callus had stared with amazement as the golden dragon turned into another Anders before changing back into a dragon and flying away. He turned and looked at the blond Anders who stood near him.

“That was... the other you?” he asked.

“ _Was_ the other me,” Anders replied absently.

“He can turn into a dragon,” said Callus slowly.

“Well, obviously,” frowned Anders as he glanced at Callus.

“But... that means... can _you_ turn into a dragon?”

Anders went still, then turned to look at Callus with an odd look in his eyes. “No,” he said slowly. “I’m not Mythal. Or a Witch of the Wilds. There are no other shapeshifters, except maybe amongst the Avvar - and I’m not.”

“But he could turn into a white crow before he became Mythal,” Callus persisted. “Doesn’t that mean that _you_ could -”

“No,” snapped Anders, a little too fast. “No. I can’t. Absolutely not.”

Fenris rejoined them just as Anders said that, the mage’s voice a little too loud and strident. The people nearest them were turning to look, curious now.

“What’s wrong love? They didn’t hurt me.” Fenris said in confusion.

“But - he’s another _you_ , I thought -” began Callus, bewildered.

“No! Absolutely not! It’s out of the question!” snapped Anders, gesturing with his hands. There was a faintly panicked look in his eyes. “Stop. Just stop! No crows, no - no cats, nothing, nothing! Mr Wiggums was a _cat_! Just a _cat_ , nothing more, the, the templars were _lying!!_ ”

“ _Mi cuore_?” asked Zevran, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“Callus, drop it ok, something is bothering Anders. Let’s just find Meneris and check in after that strangeness.” Fenris waved his son off to stop his husband’s further agitation.

Anders was staring through Callus, that strange look still in his eyes. Abruptly he turned and hurried away, muttering to himself. It looked almost as though he were arguing with himself, and he ignored Zevran as the Antivan called after him.

“What in the Void is wrong with him?” Invictus asked as he watched Anders rush away.

“I have no idea, what did you ask him Cal?” Fenris asked of his son.

“I... I asked him if he could turn into a dragon, just like the other him. Or anything else - after all, the other him was able to turn into a crow before he became Mythal, wasn’t he? I don’t know what all that about cats and this ‘Wiggums’ person was all about though.” Callus looked as baffled as they all felt.

“ _Mi amatus_ I think you should follow him and be sure he is well.” Fenris suggested. 

Zevran nodded. “I am of the same mind, _carissimi_ ,” he agreed as he turned to follow after Anders, who was already out of sight.

Cullen and Cassandra were walking towards them, leading their horses. “Fenris?” called Cassandra. “I am so sorry! We did not realise that was Mythal! We only thought to protect the camp, and then it seemed Hal was in danger.”

“Peace, it's not as if you had a reason to know it was Him. Just glad I could stop you in time.” Fenris shrugged as he looked to his friends. “Have you seen Meneris? I wanted to check in with him.”

“I think he was checking on Hal with Dorian and Pin,” replied Cullen, who looked rather sheepish and worried as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hal took quite the knock when he went down, apparently. Meneris told me to keep clear.” He gave Fenris and the others an apologetic look. “Maker, after what I did to him yesterday - and now this today -”

“Cullen, hush,” said Cassandra as she laid a hand on his arm. “You were not yourself. I will speak with Hal when he has recovered.” She turned back to Fenris. “Where is Anders? Head injuries are serious in mages, as I understand, and he is our most experienced healer.”

“Zevran went to find him, I can get him and send him to the healer's tent.” Fenris offered. 

Cassandra nodded. “Hal appears to not have regained consciousness and we are very worried for him,” she confessed. “He seems very young to bear such burdens, and I fear for him.”

Fenris barely kept from sneering at her, instead he gave the former Seeker a bow and left in search of his husband. 

He found Anders back in their tent, Zevran crouched over him. Anders was huddled on the floor, still muttering to himself. “Can’t do it. Don’t say it. I’m not listening - I’m not!”

“Love? What’s wrong with Anders? Should I get...him to check our love out?” Fenris asked.

Zevran shook his head. “I do not know, and it worries me,” he confessed as he looked up at Fenris. “Beloved... I do not know what to do. He appears to be troubled by old memories.”

Anders abruptly got to his feet and began to pace. “Did it once, I could - No! No, it’s not possible! I was dreaming, it was dark, I was -” He fell to his knees, clutching his head. “Dark. Too dark, I can’t breathe, I can’t -” He was hyperventilating as he stared about himself wildly, as though he couldn’t see them.

“Anders! Focus on me, what’s wrong?” Fenris said as he got in the blond’s way. “Talk to me.” 

Anders struggled for a moment, then his eyes focused on Fenris. “I couldn’t help him,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “There were templars, and then it was too long and he couldn’t turn back! He came. Every night when I was in solitary. He came, and I don’t even know if he knew who he really was!”

“Who are you talking about love? I’m confused.” Fenris pulled Anders to him and cradled him close. “It’s ok, its ok.”

Anders began to weep dejectedly. “Just an apprentice. He wanted to show me - he changed, and... and then it was too long, and he couldn’t turn back because he forgot he was human, the way I forgot... I forgot....” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to remember, Fen. Please, I don’t want this!” 

“I know love, I know. Can you go to the healer’s tent and check on Hal? Keeping busy will take your mind off this maybe?” Fenris asked him.

“Hal? What... what’s wrong with Hal?” asked Anders, pulling himself together with a visible effort.

“He passed out after speaking with Mythal, Cassandra and the others are worried for him.” Fenris said blithely. 

Anders blinked, then closed his eyes, bowing his head for a moment. “I’m not myself,” he murmured. “But....” He looked up at Fenris. “Take me to him,” he said finally, his voice shaking slightly. “I... I need to remember who I am.”

“As you wish.” Fenris said quietly, offering his arm to his husband, 

Anders rose to his feet. He was clearly still distressed, but trying to pull himself together. His eyes were finally focusing on both Fenris and Zevran, who still looked worried. Anders nodded his head.

“Let’s go.”

***

Anders sat back with a small frown. “There’s nothing wrong with him, as far as I can tell,” he said, perplexed. “The after-effects of a minor concussion - which you’d already dealt with quite adequately, Arden,” he added as he glanced at the blond mage who sat on the other side of the low camp cot, holding the unconscious redhead’s hand and staring at Hal’s pale face with worry. Anders shook his head. “There’s no reason that I can find why he’s still comatose. He simply seems to be in a very deep sleep - one which I can’t seem to bring him out of.”

“He used to be _somniari_ , back when he still contained the spirit of Endrin,” said Arden quietly. “Could that talent have been something latent in him all along? Perhaps he is simply... dreaming?”

Anders sighed. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe? Dreamwalking isn’t something that’s commonly taught in the Circle; it’s a very rare talent. It’s certainly beyond my theoretical knowledge.”

“I’m afraid my own understanding of it isn’t likely to be much better than yours,” added Dorian. “Whilst the talent is known in Tevinter, it’s still not exactly common, and it’s not an area of magic I studied myself.”

“We need a Dalish Keeper,” said Anders with a shrug. “They’re the only ones who seem to still have knowledge of the talent.”

“There are no Dalish within near distance of us,” said Meneris heavily. 

“I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait for him to wake up in his own time,” said Anders, shaking his head. “And maybe send out the scouts to try and find the nearest Dalish and pray they’ll help.”

Arden stared at Hal’s pale face and bit his lip. “I feel so helpless,” he confessed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry,” said Anders sincerely. “But there’s nothing more I can do for Hal now.” He rose and turned to stare at the others, his eyes going to Fenris before he moved away from the bedside.

Fenris returned his husband’s gaze as he remained where he was, staring at Hal and Arden. His feelings were mixed as he watched them, though they turned to anger as he glanced at the other Hawke. 

Anders moved over towards the wash stand to wash his hands before he turned at someone calling his name. Pin was beckoning him to one of the other patients; there’d been a few casualties in the chaos of the camp’s rousing earlier. He nodded to her and hurried over to the bedside of one of the Nevarran knights who’d fallen badly from his horse.

Dorian glanced at Meneris. “It rather looks as though there is little we can do here either, _amatus_ ,” he sighed.

“Let them be, and we’ll gather people to discuss our next move once we can head for the Western Approach. I won’t argue with going back to bed after breakfast. I hadn’t planned on being startled out of a dead sleep as the start to our day.” Meneris said as he took Dorian’s hand in his.

Fenris glanced at his _amicus_ but didn’t head for them, he just remained where he was, thinking about...things.

Zevran patted him sympathetically upon the shoulder. “This cannot be easy for you, _carissimi_ ,” he whispered softly. “I know your feelings about him must be conflicted.”

“Easy isn’t a word I know, haven't for a long time my heart.” Fenris said quietly as he stared at them. He was hurting, but he could only find an empty place in his heart as he watched the two mages. 

Zevran was also watching Hal and Arden with a thoughtful expression. “It makes for a restless spirit, being full of both love and anger at once,” he mused. “I remember that feeling all too well. The hurt of loss warring inside with both the desire to hold and comfort - and the desire to lash out and take out my hurt on another.” He slipped his arm around Fenris’ waist and pressed a gentle kiss to Fenris’ shoulder. “My heart aches for you, _carissimi_.”

The taller elf glanced at his husband with a sharp expression. “Your words cut to the quick with their truth as always _amatus_.” Fenris replied quietly. “I shouldn’t be here, if Arden speaks I do not know I could hold my tongue.”

“He, too, is hurting - and afraid, _carissimi_ ,” Zevran replied softly. “I do not think there is any anger in him now. Perhaps there is a place for you both here in this moment. And perhaps it is not Hal who needs healing, my love.”

He patted Fenris upon the arm then turned to leave.

The warrior watched him go with a slightly dirty glare for his husband and his damned perception. He had nothing to say to Arden, well nothing good anyway. Though he had _some_ concern for Hal continuing to live, he still had anger for the other mage. Fenris continued to watch them, waiting to see if he was even noticed. 

Arden cradled Hal’s hand in his as he stared into the young mage’s unconscious face. Gently, he reached out with his other hand to brush away a stray strand of crimson hair from Hal’s scarred eye. He lightly stroked Hal’s cheek with his fingers then sighed.

“Come back, love,” he whispered.

Hearing that was too much for the warrior, seeing the tenderness on Arden’s face was enough to make him turn to go, and have a hard time untying the flap to get out of the medical tent in his haste. 

Arden’s voice halted him. “Fenris? Please - don’t go.”

“Why not? There is nothing for me here.” Fenris said tersely. 

Arden was staring at him, still holding Hal’s limp hand though he’d half-risen from the low camp chair. “I know you loved him. And I know that he - he loved you very much. Still - still loved -” He paused and closed his eyes. “Loves you.” He opened his eyes slowly. “Please. Don’t go. You - it’s your place to be here as much as mine.”

Fenris laughed at the other man’s words. “I have no right to be here, none. He left me, due to my own inaction but he made that choice. Spare me your attempt to soothe me for whatever reason you have. He doesn’t love me, not anymore.” the elf struggled not to let his voice crack or to let Arden see how badly he was hurting at his words. 

Arden swallowed hard. “He was trying to protect you,” he said hoarsely.

“From what?” Fenris caught himself before he advanced on the slighter human. “Spare me the lies, and the platitudes. He made his choice, let him live with it. I’m sure he’ll wake soon and you two can continue to pretend you’re sorry.” 

“Live with it?” Arden tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob; he clutched at his hair distractedly with his free hand as he stared at Fenris. “Fenris... he believes he’s going to die at Adamant. And... Maker... I think I believe it too now.” He reached into his tunic and produced something which he let fall onto the bed.

It was an arulin’holm.

As Fenris stared at it, then back at Arden, he realised the grief now clearly etched upon the blond mage’s face was too real to be feigned. Arden was barely holding himself together as he stared at Fenris.

“Please,” Arden whispered hoarsely. “Please don’t go.”

The elf stared at Arden with barely disguised malice before he walked back to the spot he’d been in and leaned against a tent pole. “If I discover you’re manipulating me as some game, I will make you pay Hawke.” Fenris snarled as he settled in. 

Arden had dropped back into his seat, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as he returned his gaze to Hal. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling as he forced himself to breathe slowly.

“No game,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse and rough with tears. “He... he wanted you to be able to walk away from him so you wouldn’t care so much when he dies. I told him you should have the choice to walk away - not have it decided for you - but... he thought it would be kinder.” He shook his head slowly. “It wasn’t kind. Not on you, not on him - not on any of us.”

Fenris had let his claws extend and he was scratching the pole to keep from attacking Arden as his anger built. He stared at the other man as he spoke, forcing himself to remain where he was so he wouldn’t break his word to Zevran about controlling on his anger. Instead he laughed bitterly as Arden finished. “Stop talking, just stop it. You don’t like me, and I don’t believe this from you. Stop talking and proving there is no reason to stay.” he closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself. 

Arden turned and looked at him, the white-haired elf blurred through his tears. “All he achieved was to make us all miserable. He has perhaps a week left to live once he awakens and we can move on Adamant. You and he could have had time together - a last chance of happiness. And he denied it to himself as well as you.” He turned away and gazed at Hal.

“I don’t care about you,” he went on, his voice cracking. “I don’t give a damn about you one way or another. But _he_ still loves you and - and -” His voice was beginning to break, the tears flowing down his cheeks. “And all I ever wanted was for h-him t-t-to be ha-ha- _happy!_ ” 

He bowed his head and wept brokenly.

“You wanted him happy? You should have stayed dead Hawke.” Fenris said before leaving the tent, looking for a place he could get away and take flight for a while until his head cleared and he didn’t feel like his heart was breaking all over again. 

**

With Hal still comatose, the decision was made to stay put for the time being whilst scouts were sent out in search of any nearby clan of Dalish that might have a Keeper who knew something of _somniari_. Anders returned to the infirmary tent daily, only to confirm there was no change. Arden barely left Hal’s side, and that only under protest.

Fenris kept to the tent with his spouses or rarely ventured out to chat with Dorian, but he steered clear of the medical tent to avoid seeing or talking to Arden. No matter how he might have felt about the red-headed mage, he wasn’t going to let Arden talk to him as he had before. 

Many of the soldiers began to report strange dreams; over and over, the story seemed to be the same - each plagued by dreams of dragons fighting: red, gold, green and black, over the walls of a ruined fortress beneath a green sky. All of the battlemages reported disturbed sleep; even Zevran awoke screaming one night. Strangely, neither Fenris nor Invictus seemed to be plagued by anything but peaceful sleep however.

If Anders had nightmares, he said nothing of it.

Fenris had been awakened by Zevran’s screams and could not get back to sleep so he wandered the camp until he’d found himself back at the infirmary tent. He peered in to find Hal still laid out as if he was waiting for the pyre rather than deeply asleep. Thankfully Arden was nowhere to be seen so he went to sit by the redhead’s side. It was quiet, allowing the elf to look over Hal. “Why won’t you wake up?” he asked quietly. “If Mythal did something to you, why now?” The warrior watched him for a while before reaching for the arulin’holm in the mage’s hand.

“Why give this back to him, Mythal? Are you planning on killing him again, or letting him be a dragon one last time? Haven’t you and the others toyed with him enough? Let him wake up and live whatever is left of his short life.” Fenris said in quiet supplication to who or whatever might be listening.

As his fingers closed over the arulin’holm in Hal’s hand, they brushed those of Hal - and he felt a twitch. his eyes widened, and his fingers closed spasmodically around Hal’s as they still loosely grasped the hilt of the arulin’holm. 

Hal drew a deep breath, and his eyelids fluttered.

Fenris wasn’t sure what would happen if he let go of the younger man’s hand so he remained very still as he found himself looking into Hal’s mismatched eyes. “Guess someone heard me.” he said softly. 

Hal blinked drowsily. “Fenris?” he murmured, his voice weak. “How long was I sleeping?”

“A few days, I will get someone to check you over.” Fenris said quietly before pulling his hand away and scooting back from Hal. 

Hal smiled faintly. “Oh, physically I’m fine,” he replied calmly. “Weak, but fine.”

“Very well, I will let him know you’ve awakened and leave you to reunite.” Fenris said stiffly before rising. 

“He’s sleeping,” replied Hal quietly. “Dreaming.” He regarded Fenris with an oddly serene look, as though unconcerned to awaken to Fenris instead of Arden.

“I’m sure he’d prefer to know you are awake now. I’ll let others know when it's daybreak.” Fenris said with a glance to the mage. “I shall send him straight away.” 

Hal regarded him thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure whose touch would awaken me. I’d expected it to be Arden. But in a way, I think I’m glad it was you,” he said quietly. 

The warrior frowned at that but kept his immediate thoughts to himself. “It is late, I will get your lover and send him along. I hope Mythal is kind to His servant, unlike his Chosen.” Fenris said sadly. 

Hal regarded him steadily. “I knew the price before ever I took on the mantle, Fenris,” he replied. “At least I was given a choice. Not that I would have chosen anything else but this. But kindness has very little to do with Mythal’s choices, as I think you already know.”

“Believe me, I know how little kindness exists in this world.” Fenris said before escaping into the cool night air. He realized he had no idea where their tent was so he grabbed a runner to fetch the other Hawke. 

“Awaken Arden, his lover is awake finally. I’ll be in my tent if anyone needs me.” Fenris asked the startled page before heading back to his own spouses, deep in thought. 

He returned to find Zevran in a deep sleep, no longer troubled by nightmare; Anders was curled around him, face buried in the pale blond hair at the nape of Zevran’s neck.

Fenris wasn’t tired but knew he couldn’t just sit up or wander camp for hours until sunrise, so he pulled off his boots and curled up between Zevran and Invictus, closing his eyes in hopes of some rest before dawn. 

The next thing he knew, Invictus was gently shaking him awake, whilst Anders was telling the other mage to let Fenris sleep a while longer.

“It’ll take a good couple of hours before they get everyone ready to move, Vic - if he’s that tired, let him rest,” Anders chided.

Fenris rolled over and clutched the thin pillow under his head, mumbling something about a little while longer, that he’d go to market when he woke up. 

“Why is he so tired? He fell back asleep whenever he came back.” Vic asked as he wandered around their tent, packing up. 

Zevran shrugged. “I do not remember him leaving,” the Antivan confessed. “I do not even remember this nightmare that Anders insists I woke you all with.”

“Well, whatever it was, it had you screaming as though the Archdemon itself were rising up to eat you - or maybe a broodmother,” remarked Anders, then shuddered. “Actually, a broodmother would certainly have _me_ screaming fit to wake the dead.”

Zevran shook his head. “It is as well I cannot remember then,” replied the elf.

“Why don’t we get breakfast and let him sleep, and I’ll bring some road rations for Fenris?” Vic said quietly as he put his pack by the tent flap. 

“I’ll have to join you later I’m afraid,” replied Anders. “I need to go check on Hal again.”

“Alright, I’ll get you something for the road as well. I hope he comes around soon, or at least before Adamant.” Vic said with a sad look at Fenris before taking Zevran’s hand and heading for the cook tent.

Anders was muttering to himself as he laced his boots up. “Why Meneris couldn’t wait one more damned day for the scouts to find the Dalish I don’t know - I really hate moving patients like this... Maker’s ass, where’d my other boot go?” He cast around then spotted it near the bedrolls. He reached for it, still muttering to himself.

Fenris sat up and rubbed at his eyes as he heard someone talking. “What time is it?” he asked blearily.

“About an hour after sunrise, by my reckoning,” replied Anders. “Uh... sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up again,” he added sheepishly.

“It’s ok, I’m surprised I fell asleep actually. I might just ride in a cart until we stop for midday.” Fenris gave him a sleepy smile. “What’s got you so grumpy love?”

“Meneris deciding not to wait until the scouts have a chance to find any nearby Dalish, that’s what,” replied Anders as he sat down to tug his other boot on. “I _hate_ having to move comatose patients. And there’s that Nevarran with the broken leg - and we’ve little enough space in the carts as it is. Love, I’m not sure anyone will be riding in the carts that’s able to walk or ride a horse, I’m afraid. Maybe you can ride double with Zevran if you think you’re too sleepy to ride alone just yet?”

“His horse hates me and he wouldn’t ride double with me before, I’d crowd him I think.” Fenris said as he got to his feet and started to get ready. “Who’s comatose that you have to move?” he asked as he got his bedroll folded up. 

“Hal, of course,” replied Anders as he glanced around distractedly, brushing his hair back out of his face. “Oh, knickerweasels - why can I never find a blasted hair tie when I need one?”

“Hal’s awake now.” Fenris said casually before looking in his pack for a clean tunic. 

“ _What??_ ” exclaimed Anders, turning to stare at him in surprise. “But - when? How in the Void do _you_ know? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Fenris continued to tug on his boots as he explained. “I wound up at the medical tent and since Arden was gone, I ...sat with Hal for a bit.” the elf found the buckles of his boots incredibly fascinating as he continued on. 

“I...was talking to Mythal, and I noticed the arulin’holm in Hal’s hands as they laid across his chest. I touched it, and his hand and that woke him up. I had a runner send for Arden and came back to bed. There was no need to wake you.” he finished. 

Anders stared at him. “He was in a coma for several days,” he said slowly. “You didn’t think that my patient finally waking from a coma was reason to wake me?”

“He said he was fine, that he was just tired but felt ok physically? He’s a healer too...stop looking at me like that Anders.” Fenris said as he shrank back from his husband’s glare. 

Anders took a step towards him, shaking his finger at Fenris. “You... you... Maker, Fenris, you can be the utter end sometimes!” he snapped. “You _knew_ I was worried about him! You should have woken me!” He glared at the elf then was brought up short as he noticed how Fenris appeared to be hunching in upon himself in a vain attempt to appear smaller. Anders blinked. Then slowly he backed away. “Fenris,” he said carefully, keeping his voice quiet. “You know I always want to be informed of any change in my patients. You should have woken me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself before opening them again.

“Please don’t ever do this again, Fenris.”

He turned and left the tent.

The warrior remained where he was, curled up with his arms around his knees and trying to keep from whimpering. He hadn’t thought to wake Anders and he was worried he’d angered his husband for being stupid. He was still curled up, silently sitting instead of packing for a while. 

As the tent flap was opened, he looked up, worried for a moment that it was Anders returned in a temper; he felt relieved when Invictus entered, followed by Zevran - then was immediately ashamed to feel relieved.

“...and I for one will not go in there,” Zevran was saying. “I do not know what has angered _mi cuore_ , but I know better than to put myself in his way until he has calmed.”

Fenris stayed where he was and kept quiet, unsure whether to admit it was his fault that Anders was on a tear through the camp. 

Invictus noticed how he was curled up and sighed. “Fen? You usually look like this when Anders has let loose on you, though I doubt he screamed about light fellatio this time.” 

Zevran looked around and saw the expression on Fenris’ face a moment before Invictus’ words registered, and then he went stiff before he backed away. “On second thoughts... perhaps I prefer to risk facing his wrath after all,” he remarked, the tips of his ears reddening.

“He probably won’t yell at you.” Fenris said quietly before he finally uncurled and winced at how his back protested at the strain. 

“If he takes out his anger on me then we can have fantastic make-up sex afterwards,” shrugged Zevran. “I think I prefer that to dying of mortification, yes?”

“I’ll just stay quiet and out of his way, something about Anders losing his temper still gets to me.” Fenris admitted as he moved to finish packing. 

“I’ll go find Anders, you two finish packing please? Fen I got you breakfast for the road if you want it.” Vic said quietly. 

“Not hungry, thank you.” Fenris said as he shook his tunic out before pulling it on. 

“You would deprive me of the possibility of fantastic sex with _mi cuore_ after he has finished taking out his ire upon me, _mi amor_?” said Zevran in mock outrage. “No, I will go. I insist.” He gestured at his satchel and pack. “Besides, I am already packed.” He turned and headed back outside to go find Anders.

“Glad he can find some humor in all this.” Fenris said as he took the rations and canteen Vic had set aside for him before heading towards the corral. 

“Love?” Vic called out as he watched Fenris walk towards his mount.

“Later Vic, please.” Fenris replied before finding his warhorse. 

They didn’t see Anders and Zevran again until most of the company were mounted up and ready. The last couple of tents were coming down and stowed in one of the wagons when Anders made his way slowly between the wagons nearest to Invictus and Fenris, leading his horse; Zevran was following a little way behind.

Anders was walking slowly, staring at the ground; it was only as he drew closer that he finally looked up at them. His expression was sheepish as he glanced to Invictus, then he handed the reins of his horse to Zevran before walking to stand beside Fenris’ mount. He stared up at the elf, his expression remorseful.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

“I was stupid, I should have woken you Anders.” Fenris said contritely as he tried to keep from leaning away from his husband. 

“That doesn’t make what I did right though,” replied Anders. His eyes were sad as he took in the stiff way Fenris held himself, and he took a step back. “I... shouldn’t have lost my temper. Forgive me?”

“If I am forgiven for being stupid.” Fenris replied as he tried to relax in the saddle. 

“It was late,” Anders said slowly. “We’d all been woken by Zev screaming. You must have been still tired.” He shrugged a little and tried to smile. “Of course I forgive you.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry and I’ll try to do better next time.” Fenris replied as he glanced up and noticed Hal and Arden milling around. His expression changed slightly before turning back to his husband. “Sorry, I guess some things still get to me.” 

Anders nodded, his eyes on the ground once more. He moved away slowly and returned to his horse. Zevran held her steady as Anders mounted then passed him the reins before turning to lead the black destrier over to the nearest wagon; climbing up onto the nearest wheel of the wagon he used its height to climb up into the saddle of his horse before guiding it over to stand next to Anders’ grey mare.

Arden was darting worried looks at Hal, who sat at ease on the back of the dun mare. Hal had a calm, serene expression, seemingly unfazed by being on the back of a horse that previously had unnerved him.

Fenris said nothing as they lined up, he was still deep in his own thoughts about why Anders anger affected him still. He finally looked up at the call to move out and kept his eyes on the road. He gave Invictus a wan smile as they traveled, unhappy to see Hal and Arden in his line of sight as the day wore on. It was going to be a long time before they stopped and he could move up the line. 

Anders and Zevran rode side-by-side; Anders seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts, barely paying attention to the road. Zevran kept one eye on him as the day wore on, guiding his destrier a little closer each time Anders had to hastily rein in his horse to avoid a mishap until finally the Antivan leaned over and snatched the reins from Anders’ unresisting hands. Zevran tied the reins to the pommel of his saddle and Anders seemed to slump slightly in the saddle, content to let his horse be led.

Fenris frowned as he watched them, and nudged Invictus. “Check on them, this is not like Anders to be so desolate when in the saddle.” 

“He’s probably mad at himself for yelling at you love. Just talk to him and if you can, stop shying away from him. He’s probably more upset with himself than you are anymore.” Vic said as they rode. “I hope we stop soon, being off a horse for a few days has me sore already.” 

The order was passed for an hour’s halt shortly after midday as the company was passing a river where they could water the horses and refill water barrels and canteens. Zevran guided his and Anders’ horses over towards the nearest wagon as it rolled to a stop. Anders seemed not to notice they were no longer moving until Zevran had climbed down from his horse and was tapping at his foot, looking up at the mage with a small frown.

Fenris dismounted with a pained grunt, eager to walk around and work the soreness from his thighs. He winced slightly as he headed for the small firepits, eager for something hot before they got going again. 

Zevran nudged Anders in Fenris’ direction with a small frown before turning to care for their horses. Anders gave him a lost look, then turned and made his way after the warrior, his eyes on the ground.

Fenris had found a spot to wait for the meal service to begin, glancing up when he realized Anders was next to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

Anders dropped down somewhat gracelessly to sit on the grass beside Fenris, staring down at the ground. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I just reacted - I should have stopped and thought how that would look. I can’t believe I was so thoughtless.” He stared at the ground and shook his head slowly. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“You can’t promise that, don’t attempt to do so love. I did a stupid thing, and you were right to tell me off. Can we drop it please? You looked miserable all morning and I would like to forget I was such an idiot please.” Fenris said quietly. 

Anders ducked his head slightly. “Sorry,” he responded automatically, then winced. “Yes, of course.” He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, still staring at the ground. After a moment, he bit his lip before opening his mouth to speak; he snapped it shut again as though thinking better of it only to worry his lip with his teeth once more.

“Is Hal well enough? I...needed to go after he woke up. I did not, no I cannot be around Arden even a bit after he finally told me how much he doesn’t care about me. I knew it but hearing it confirmed was a cut I couldn’t bear.” Fenris asked quietly. 

“He says he’s fine physically,” replied Anders dully. “He won’t let me check him though. There’s... something odd about him though. There’s just this... sort of air of calmness about him. As though he’s not afraid of anything anymore. I’m not sure what to make of it.” He frowned. “We... lost the Nevarran knight. He’d died in his sleep shortly before morning. The orderly told me that before Hal left the tent, he spent some time sitting with the knight. The man had been in a lot of pain before Hal talked to him, but afterwards apparently he was quiet - and when they checked and found him dead about an hour before dawn, the man had a smile on his face.” Anders shuddered.

“Hal is a healer, probably gave him a bit of peace so he could pass on.” Fenris shrugged. “Anders…” he started then cut himself off as if he didn’t want to say what was on his mind.

Anders glanced at him. “You were about to ask me something?” he asked.

“I...I was going to ask you something but I am unsure if I want to give voice to it.” Fenris said. 

Anders looked down at the ground again. “That makes two of us then,” he mumbled.

“You first?” Fenris said with a grin. “I won’t bite you.”

“Maybe I might be wishing you would,” murmured Anders distractedly. “You haven’t done that in a long time.”

“I think Zevran would stab me if I encroached on his plans for magnificent make up sex with you later.” Fenris grinned again before blushing and looking away. 

“What?” Anders blinked then turned and looked at Fenris. “Make... but he and I haven’t had an argument, why would....” He stared at Fenris, nonplused.

“Ask him, he sounded as if he had a plan.” Fenris said with a glance at his nails before he spoke just low enough for Anders to hear him. “Hawke claims Hal still loves me, which I can’t believe, as well as him being convinced he will die at Adamant.” 

Anders turned and stared very hard at the ground, blinking rapidly. He had to swallow several times before he could managed to speak. “I... think maybe that’s... that’s what Mythal was t-talking to him about,” he said in a rush, his voice sounding oddly tight.

“I guess so, it would explain the arulin’holm which Vic destroyed activating the Eluvian in Kirkwall. That fool burned the one in their Kirkwall, so I have no idea what they did to activate the mirror.” Fenris glared at the fire across from them as he considered what Arden had said to him. “I refused to hear Hawke say that, but it makes sense. This air of finality around Hal, and he regrets it, ending things but I can’t...I can’t let him back in, my heart can’t take it Anders. It hurts so fucking much.” he said with a hitch in his voice. 

Anders lifted his head and stared out at the field before them. “It was Flemeth,” he said quietly. “Arden had burned the arulin’holm so Merrill couldn’t use it on the mirror. So they went up Sundermount, and Flemeth took back my portion of Justice from my counterpart - and then put something into Hal that started killing him. She turned him into a living arulin’holm, effectively - but men aren’t meant to contain that kind of power. It started killing him from the moment the first Eluvian was destroyed.” He shook his head slowly. “My counterpart told me all of this as I was trying to help him heal Hal enough to keep him alive to finish the job.” He dropped his gaze to the ground. “Vic didn’t destroy our arulin’holm; he dropped it inside that... wherever that was where we fought Nightmare the first time. Hal picked it up and used it on... on himself... to free whatever Flemeth had put inside him, turning into a dragon.” He glanced at Fenris. “I think you were distracted by the fight at the time, love. But that’s how he did it.” He glanced away again. “Of course, then the other me had to get chomped by Nightmare and I was trying to keep him alive and - Maker, that was all such a mess and now we’re riding back into all that again and - and I don’t think Hal can come back from this one, and I think Mythal told him that and -” He broke off, swallowing hard.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter.

“Nothing to apologize for, it's not like I can do anything for him anyway. Void, who knows if any of us will make it through this a second time.” Fenris said softly. “Sorry, I think I just managed to kill any interest I had in lunch and sink our mood again. Will you hold me please and you still haven’t asked your question love?” the elf asked with a hopeful look to his husband. 

Anders looked away. “I’m afraid to ask it,” he confessed, his voice wavering slightly.

“Alright, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Fenris replied as he leaned over and rested against his husband. 

“That’s just it,” said Anders. “I _want_ to ask. But I’m afraid of the answer.”

“Maybe save it for later when we’re alone in our tent? Near the cookfire probably isn’t the best place for such talk anyway.” Fenris replied. “I’m so tired and scared Anders, I wish we could just get there and be done with the battle.” 

Anders swallowed hard. “Fenris... the other me,” he said slowly. “Did he... change... before he became Mythal? Was Callus telling the truth?”

Fenris glanced at the ground as he thought back to their jaunt through the Fade, then their second trip after discovering he still lived. He debated lying to spare his love, but decided against it. Finally he looked up and nodded yes, unable to say the words. 

Anders stared at him, his eyes widening slightly, and then he looked away and slumped, as though the life had gone out of him all at once.

“I’m sorry...would you rather have not known the truth?” Fenris asked as he wrapped an arm around his husband. “I wish I had a better answer.”

Anders made an odd little whimpering sound. “No....” he whispered. “I... I think I already knew... I just didn’t want to remember.” He stared at the ground and then began to cry. “Wiggums... I’m so sorry, Wiggs, I - it was my fault!”  
“What was your fault? I don’t understand, what are you talking about?” Fenris asked as he pulled the mage closer to him. “Talk to me, please.”

Anders lifted his head and turned tear-filled eyes to Fenris. “I taught him the spell, and he couldn’t wait to show off! He shouldn’t even have been anywhere near our floor - he was still an apprentice, and only Harrowed mages were allowed above the third floor. But he just couldn’t wait to show me - and then the templars came to inspect rooms, and he was stuck - he couldn’t change back, and by the time they’d gone it was too late. He’d forgotten how to be human again.” He dropped his head into his hands as he wept. “He’s dead because of me. If I’d never shown him....”

Fenris was unsure what to do so he looked around until he saw Invictus and yelled for him. “Vic! Come here.” 

The fact that the warrior was yelling across the field got Invictus to hurry over and check on their spouse. “What’s going on?”

“I told him about the other Anders being a shape shifter, he asked! I didn’t just tell him, he’s panicking, and I don’t know what to do Vic.” Fenris held Anders as he wept but he was at a loss on what to do with the mage.

Anders abruptly pulled away from Fenris and surged to his feet, staggering a few feet away before he dropped to his hands and knees. He was muttering something to himself; he shook his head vehemently and then stilled, muttering again, too quiet even for Fenris to hear what he was saying.

“Is he trying to ...change?” Vic said as he followed behind Anders and tried to get him to his feet.

Fenris watched them, perplexed and concerned. 

Anders shrugged Invictus off. “Can’t be small... small forgets,” he was muttering to himself. “No birds. No... Pounce? Pounce... large?”

“Anders, what are you doing? People are going to stare and wonder if you have lost your mind.” Invictus said as he got Anders turned to him and held him in place. “Talk to me, cause I’m worried and Fenris looks like he’s going to carry you and put you on your horse in a few minutes.”

Anders writhed in his arms and cried out - and then Invictus suddenly felt the nauseating sensation of Anders’ bones somehow shifting beneath the blond mage’s skin as he stared up at Invictus from eyes that were no longer amber but a feline gold. Something alien looked at Invictus from Anders’ eyes.

“Maker! What is happening to you!? STOP THIS.” Vic cried as he stared into the feline eyes.

Fenris had come over and was staring at them both in fear. “Anders? What...is happening to you?” 

Anders managed to wrench himself free of Invictus’ grip then dropped to his knees, screaming in agony as he fell forward onto his hands. Before any of them could move, he clawed his fingers into the earth then retracted them - tipped with curved, razor-sharp talons as his back stretched and elongated with a sickening crunch. Anders threw his head back to scream again, his neck lengthening; but it was a roar that burst from what remained of his lips as the mage’s skin shredded and the tiger leapt forward, staring at them with pain-crazed eyes before turning and racing away for the nearby woods.

Fenris stared at where Anders had run off before looking at Invictus who looked just as perplexed and confused. “This is some of the worst mage shit I have been a part of in my life.” the warrior said as he turned at the loud Antivan swearing he heard coming towards them. 

Zevran was staring towards the edge of the woods, his face pale with fear even as he continued to swear fervently. “Please - please tell me that I did not see that,” he said as he reached them, limping badly. “And pray that no-one else saw it either, or Anders is a dead man.” He blinked. “Tiger.”

“Tiger…” Fenris repeated dully. “I know what I saw but I still can’t kind of believe what I saw?” 

“You can turn into a dragon, this should not be a shock.” Vic replied.

“That’s a curse of Mythal thank you, not some ability I was born with unless there’s something else I didn’t know about these marks.” Fenris said as he continued to stare off where Anders disappeared to. 

“Not a curse, at least not the way you had Zev screaming the other night.” Vic quipped before he got a slap on the back of the head.

“Not the time!” Fenris growled before he turned to see if anyone else saw their husband’s change. “We have to do something. I’m afraid that if I shift, I will ...forget he’s not actually a snack to me.”

“And how long do you think it has been since he has been other than human?” said Zevran softly, his eyes still on the forest. He headed past them and began to limp towards the trees.

“Don’t you dare go after him right now! He’ll attack possibly and I doubt you can tame him with apples.” Fenris said as he grabbed Zevran’s arm. “Let me go, I can take him on and likely get him tied and brought back to us, please.” 

“No,” said Zevran, his voice rough as he pulled hard, trying to free himself. “By the time you bring him back bound, he will have forgotten himself and we will never get him back.”

“What are you going to do?” Fenris asked. “I can’t lose you too.” 

Zevran locked eyes with Fenris. “Trust me, _carissimi_ ,” he breathed softly. “And do not let Invictus follow.”

“What?” Fenris begged him silently not to do whatever he was planning, but let go when Zevran pulled again. He wiped at his face, sure that the Antivan was going to his end. 

Zevran stripped off his armour swiftly, throwing it aside as he then divested himself of blades and knives before finally starting to limp toward the edge of the forest, taking with him only one rope, one long knife and a canteen of water.

“He’s going to get killed.” Fenris said shakily as he watched Zevran heading to the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be another delay in updating since Cypher will be away for PAX Dev and PAX West this week. So enjoy a double update in the meantime!


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunter becomes the hunted, Anders can't trust himself, and there are repercussions for what he has done. Carver rides to the rescue, and Zevran has disturbing news from Skyhold.

Zevran reached the line of trees and paused. The meadow he had just crossed was bright and sunny, buzzing with insects and the calls of birds; but beneath the trees, all was shadowy and cool and silent. As he stared into the shade, he found all the fanciful rumours and stories he’d ever heard of the Arbor Wilds coming to mind. Even his previous journey here - with the forces of the Inquisition but a few years before, when they sought to reach the Temple of Mythal before the forces of Corypheus - had done little to lay such rumours and myths to rest; and the WIlds held many all too real dangers for the unwary traveller; the majority of the Wilds were dense forest, unmapped and unexplored. Tales of would've adventurers who ventured into the Wilds and never returned were few but not unheard of - and then, of course, there were the Sentinels. Likely those ancient elves still guarded the Temple of Mythal and whatever other elven ruins still lingered here.

But he had a tiger to catch, before that tiger could forget he were ever once a man, and standing under the eves of the forest scaring himself with stories would only waste valuable time. He drew a deep breath and plunged into the shadows.

All at once, he was in a different world. The forest was thick, dense, ancient; little light penetrated the canopy save here and there, where some immense tree had fallen, allowing the sun’s rays to penetrate the green darkness. Still, Zevran’s eyes were keen and, as was the way with elves, saw almost as well in the dark as the eyes of many night-dwellers. There was an almost unearthly silence under the trees that told him the tiger had passed this way - and the broken vegetation left an easy trail to follow.

Zevran had hunted many dangerous foes over the years; targets for assassinations had included princes, warlords, two Grey Wardens (that in truth should have proven his death), the odd Tevinter magister or two (dangerous prey indeed) and in his later years, a great many Crows as the hunter became the hunted - to speak nothing of the Venatori, Qunari, and more than a few dragons. It was rare indeed that he had had cause to embark on a hunt quite so unequipped - or one in which, whilst he sought only to find his quarry and bring him back unharmed, he could not be certain the prey would extend to him that same courtesy. The hunter might well find himself the hunted, and Zevran had no idea how long it might take a mage in tiger form to lose all memory of himself. Likely longer than if he’d taken the form of some smaller beast - but how long would that be?

A tiger - why had Anders chosen a tiger, of all the creatures he could have chosen? The blond mage had always had an affinity for cats, but his one encounter with a tiger upon Seheron all those years ago had left Anders near catatonic with terror.

He lost track of time as he pursued the tiger deeper into the forest; here under the trees, it was hard to track the passing of the sun across the sky. There was a heaviness in the air; thick and oppressive, the stillness unnerving. 

He emerged suddenly blinking into a patch of bright golden sunshine and found he had stumbled out of the undergrowth into the overgrown ruins of some unknown building. It was impossible to tell what it might once have been; only that the broken walls and crumbling archways were elven in appearance. Heavy ferns and thick vines grew from the stones, trees thrusting up from what had once been perhaps a fine paved courtyard that had been reclaimed by the forest when Antiva was perhaps no more than a collection of fishermen’s huts centuries and centuries ago.

Zevran gazed around himself, enchanted by the difference in feel here - the air was less oppressive and humid here where the late afternoon sun bathed ancient stone in an almost kindly warmth. He glanced around as he made his way through the ruins; as he ducked beneath one archway he found the remains of a fountain, the faces of the figures that adorned it long ago worn to smoothness by the touch of wind and rain over millennia. He bent to refill his canteen from the rainwater that filled the cracked white marble bowl then sat upon the edge to splash water upon his face and neck. Glancing around, he slung the canteen back over his shoulder then pressed on.

He ducked beneath another archway then felt the slope beneath him start to shift; he stumbled and managed to halt himself before he’d slid too far on the crumbled remains of rubble that covered a slope leading down to a sharp drop perhaps twenty feet away. He was fortunate he had found himself here in daylight; in the dark he might have fallen over the edge.

He turned to climb back up - and froze as above him he heard a low, threatening growl.

He lifted his head slowly to meet the gaze of the tiger. It was crouched atop the archway he’d passed through, its wickedly-sharp claws gripping the worn ancient stones as it regarded him with bright gold eyes; its lips curled back from its teeth with another menacing growl.

“Anders,” breathed Zevran, his throat suddenly dry as he felt his heart give a lurch and adrenaline raced in his veins. “ _Mi cuore_. Do you not recognise me?”

The tiger’s tail lashed angrily and it shifted restlessly. Zevran shifted slightly on the talus slope and raised his hands placatingly. “Easy, easy, my love. It is only Zevran. I mean you no harm.”

The great cat’s eyes were alien and flatly hostile as the tiger growled, low and threatening; slowly the immense beast began to climb down the wall towards him. Zevran swore softly to himself. 

“Anders,” he tried again. “Please, my love - try to remember who, _what_ you are!”

The tiger roared defiance, and then leapt towards him.

Zevran threw himself to one side then rolled away as the tiger lashed out with one immense paw, swiping at him. Quick as a flash, Zevran dropped his shoulder and rolled away to come to his feet; he threw himself sideways a bare heartbeat before the tiger landed upon the same spot. It lashed out, impossibly fast, and Zevran cried out as he felt four hot lines of fire score across his back from hip to shoulder, the thin shirt shredding like tissue before hot wetness ran down his back.

He managed to throw himself behind an outcropping of stone and ducked down as the tiger’s paw slashed down after him. He was panting as he pressed himself against the rocks at the back of the narrow cleft; he could feel the stone becoming slick with his blood as he held still, trying to judge if the tiger could force its way after him. From the frustrated growl, he supposed he had bought himself at least a little time.

“Anders!” he called out again. “Please. You do not wish to do this! It is Zevran - you love me, remember, _mi cuore_?” His back was on fire, throbbing with hot angry pain, and he felt a little queasy from the pain.

He still had his knife, but one knife against a tiger would avail him little. In any case, he didn’t want to hurt Anders; the tiger, on the other hand, very much obviously wished to kill him.

“Anders!” he tried again, desperation colouring his voice. 

It had gone silent. Zevran held still, the only sound now his own ragged panting and the soft drip of his blood on the rocks. Where was the tiger? It couldn’t have given up already. Zevran held his breath and tried to listen for any sounds of movement. He could hear nothing over the sound of his own heartbeat however.

Had Anders heard him? Had he recognised him? Had something of the man inside finally responded? Zevran didn’t know, and he hadn’t stayed alive this long by acting in haste - despite present appearances to the contrary. He held still, as the air slowly grew cooler and his back slowly stiffened.

He had no idea how long he remained in the cleft, but the shadows were longer now as he squinted out of the darkness into the bright light. He couldn’t remain in the tiny crack forever; and he needed to know where the tiger was.

Slowly, he inched back as silently as only a Crow knows how towards the entrance of the cleft, listening hard for any hint of where the tiger might be. He didn’t dare call out now; if the tiger were waiting for him, it already knew where he was - and if it had gone away, he didn’t want to attract it back whilst he were at such a disadvantage. His leg was cramping badly now from so long spent motionless after pushing himself on through the forest for so long, and his back was one long dull ache of pain that he could do nothing about save endure as best he could.

His eyes scanned the talus slope warily. There was no sign of the tiger. He held himself still, listening, watching for any betraying movement.

There was no sound; nothing moved. The tiger had gone.

Zevran slowly limped out of the cleft, his eyes flicking around the exposed talus slope restlessly for any sign or sound of movement. But he seemed truly alone.

He turned slowly back toward the archway - and screamed as the tiger leapt towards him, talons outstretched.

Without thinking, he let himself drop backwards onto the talus slope, ignoring the pain as his back hit the rock as he brought his feet up to strike the tiger in the chest. He threw himself back hard as he straightened his legs, thrusting the tiger up and over him. The tiger was thrown beyond him, striking the talus hard with a rattle of rock and a furious bellowing roar before continuing to slide down. Zevran twisted himself about, scrabbling at the stones to check his own headlong fall before glancing back over his shoulder just in time to see the tiger slide over the edge of the cliff.

“ _Anders!!_ ” he screamed, just as the tiger fell from view. He could hear rocks smashing below; a dull thud of something hitting stone hard, then the rattle and patter of talus over the rocks before the slope settled and all was silent once more.

Zevran lay still for a moment then was moving as swiftly as he dared over the unstable surface to the edge of the drop. Carefully he peered over the edge, and then bit back a hoarse cry.

About two hundred feet below him, he could see Anders sprawled, still and naked, upon a rocky ledge. His face was hidden by bloodied blond hair; human once more, he lay upon his side. A few inches beyond him, the ledge dropped away to a sheer one thousand foot drop.

Zevran stared down at him, shaking with adrenaline and feeling weak and sick at heart. Then he closed his eyes and screamed as loud and as long as he could, desperately hoping that someone might hear him.

**

Invictus watched Fenris pace back and forth as he watched the dense trees where Zevran had run into. He was tense watching the elf, and it was made worse when he saw the warrior freeze and cock his head as if he was listening. “Fen?”

“That’s...screaming, Zevran, its Zevran!” he replied fearfully. “Something must have happened, Mythal if you have any mercy, let me find them quickly.” he said before taking off and shifting so he could search for them from the air.

Invictus watched him fly off, his own anxiety for his spouses keeping him from running in too. Someone needed to be there when they returned, not if.

***  
Fenris followed the sounds of desperation from the air, hating that he couldn’t fly closer to the ground. He got as close as he could when he heard the Antivan’s screaming for help and landed as close as he could before running to his husband. “Zev?” 

Zevran was sprawled upon the ground at the edge of a cliff; the back of his shirt was shredded and soaked with blood from the four terrible wounds that had slashed his back open from right shoulder to left hip. He was staring down at something on a ledge some way below him; his voice had cracked, and yet he was still screaming hoarsely. As Fenris carefully picked his way closer over the scree, fearful of setting the whole slope moving and sending them both over the edge, he glanced over and then froze as he realised there was a blond man sprawled far too still on a narrow ledge below them, one arm hanging limply over the edge, the body mottled by bruises and bloodied from a fall.

Zevran fell silent save for the shuddering of his breath, and then his head moved slightly.

“Help him,” he rasped hoarsely. “I beg you - help him!”

Fenris nodded as he gently picked Zevran up and moved him away from the ledge before heading for the edge and changing mid-run so he could reach Anders. He picked the unconscious mage up in his front hands slowly and carefully rose with him cradled close to his chest, worried for both his husbands, though the limp blond in his hands made him fear he was too late. 

He barely touched down and lowered his head so Zevran could climb up, if he was able to with his injuries. When the Antivan didn’t move, he picked him up so both men were held in his claws, closed around them to hold them as he flew back to camp as swiftly as he dared with them both badly injured. As soon as he touched down he let them down on soft grass before shifting and yelling for help. “Vic! Vic!”

He hadn’t gotten breath drawn for a third scream before Invictus was next to him checking over both men over. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, Zevran was barely conscious and Anders had fallen to a cliff ledge. I don’t know what to do for them. I’m no healer.” 

“Neither am I, get them comfortable as you can while I get help, and please stay calm.” Vic said before taking off at a dead run for the healer's tent to get Arden and Hal, damn their arguments before he needed their skill to keep both his husbands alive. 

He found Meneris, Cullen, Cassandra and Hal arguing near one of the wagons, Dorian holding Arden back as Hal squared up to Cullen, his mismatched eyes flashing.

“And I tell you we do not move from this spot until they are found!” the redhead was shouting, face pale.

“We cannot hold off for the sake of two men!” countered Cullen hotly.

“I will not leave here!” retorted Hal.

“All of you shut up. Anders and Zevran are badly hurt, I need you both Arden and Hal. Fenris is with them, I think Anders is worse off. Please.” Invictus asked as he ignored everyone but the other mages.

“What happened? How were they hurt and what the bloody Void is going on with you all? I should send you all back to Nevarra.” Meneris snapped.

Hal abruptly pushed Cullen away from him; ignoring Meneris, he moved towards Invictus. “Take me to them,” he said, his voice quiet. Dorian still held Arden firmly, the stronger magister pinning the blond mage’s arms to his sides, but at Invictus’ words he slowly released Arden who hurried towards them.  
“Dorian, can you come too? I fear Fenris may need someone to keep him calm and I’ll be healing as well.” Vic asked with a worried glance at Meneris.

“Go on, seems we’re not going anywhere yet.” the elf said tiredly. 

Dorian gave Meneris a quick kiss before following after them.

“What happened?” asked Hal tersely as Invictus led them back to where he’d left the others. 

“Anders… shifted? He turned into a damn tiger and sprinted off to the forest, Zevran followed him and it looks like things went very badly. Luckily Fenris heard Zev calling out or we wouldn’t know what had happened.” Vic explained. 

They emerged between two wagons to find Fenris on his knees beside the two men. Both Anders and Zevran were sprawled unconscious beside each other, bodies bloodied and unmoving.

Hal sprinted to their sides, Arden only a step behind. Hal dropped to his knees between the two men, eyes closed as he reached out to lay a hand on each as he dropped his senses into their bodies, swiftly triaging their injuries before turning his focus on Anders.

“Arden. Heal Zevran. The bleeding is the worst injury. Someone get Pin - and bring blankets, water, dressings,” the redhead added before sinking his full attention into healing the unconscious mage.

Arden nodded and settled himself beside Zevran as he reached for the shredded remains of the Antivan’s shirt.

Fenris stared at both of them, unable to do anything and feeling useless. He kept the snide comment he wanted to make to Arden to himself, instead turning to his _amicus_ and holding him so he wouldn’t fall apart.

Invictus dashed off to find Pin and the items that Hal had requested, glad for something to do other than watch them work on two of the men he loved. 

Arden seemed oblivious to Fenris’ stare as he worked on Zevran, his hands aglow in healing magic as he worked swiftly to stem the bleeding and begin to heal the damage and trauma to the elf’s body. beside him, Hal was deep in trance, his consciousness sunk into Anders’ body as he did the delicate work of healing head injuries caused by the mage’s fall.

Zevran groaned softly, his eyes drifting open as he reached a hand groggily towards Anders. “Help... help him...” he slurred, barely aware of where he was.

“I can’t lose them Dorian.” Fenris said as he turned away from watching the four men, unwilling to entertain the idea of their demise.

“No fear of that I think, _amicus_ ,” replied Dorian quietly. “Not if Zevran’s awake and talking already. Hal will do his best for Anders, I’m sure.” He frowned. “What happened? I’ve seen wounds like those before. Those are the marks of a tiger’s claws, unless I miss my guess - a large one at that.”

“Yes, Anders is an animagus apparently. I know those marks from my time in Seheron.” Fenris said shakily before he clung tighter to Dorian. “I feel shaky now that I’m not terrified of them dying in my arms.”

“Zevran’s too stubborn to die,” Dorian snorted as he watched the Antivan struggle to reach Anders, one hand still outstretched towards the unconscious blond, murmuring Anders’ name with a voice that cracked.

“Maybe...I think I need to sit down.” Fenris said quietly as he closed his eyes and tried to not take Dorian down with him. 

Just as the warrior seemed to be on his way down, Invictus returned with Pin in tow and everything Hal had asked or. “Pin, help Hal while I help with Zevran.” 

The Antivan turned his head to watch as Invictus approached him; if he seemed at all alarmed to have awakened to find himself being touched by Arden, helpless and seemingly at the mage’s mercy, he gave no sign of it. He lay on his side, merely watching as Invictus settled himself next to him, then reached out his hand to his husband. 

“It was not his fault,” he rasped, voice rough and damaged from screaming. “He was too far gone as the cat. He did not know me.” He glanced over to Anders. “I... I had no choice... he would have killed me, I - forgive me!”

“No one is upset with you love, its ok.” Vic assured him with a sad smile. He let healing magic come to his hands as he ran them over Zevran’s face to heal any small scrapes or nicks as Arden continued to work on his more serious injuries. “Do you want Pin to help you instead love? I understand if you don’t want him working on you.” Vic asked very quietly.

Arden swallowed hard but said nothing, merely continued to carefully heal the claw wounds, driving out the toxins that had been driven deep into Zevran’s flesh by the tiger’s claws and carefully working to quell the infection threatening to start.

“Pin lacks the experience to treat such wounds,” said Zevran hoarsely. “You will not allow me to come to harm, my love.” He closed his eyes. “I should have known he was waiting. Even as a cat, our love is far too clever. And I was too slow.”

“Pin has been trained by Anders, I trust her abilities far more than others.” Vic said as he continued to stroke the elf’s face as he sat with him. “Anders is smarter than all of us put together most days. Rest your voice now, I’m at your side love, it's ok now.” Vic added. 

Anders stirred slightly, groaning faintly as he frowned. Zevran tried to sit up at the sound of his voice, only stilling at Invictus’ hand on his shoulder.

“There, what did I tell you?” Dorian said as he nudged Fenris. “Made of stern stuff, both your husbands. Anders will make it - and you’ll need to sit on Zevran in a minute before he can undo Arden’s work and hurt himself again.”

“I can’t sit on Zevran, I’ll hurt him.” Fenris replied before heading over to take Zevran’s hand and check him over. He sat with his back to Arden as he held the elf’s other hand in his. “ _amatus_?” 

“I think he’s fine, or will be soon enough.” Vic said as he gently pushed Zevran back to the ground. 

Zevran growled softly, frustrated at his body’s weakness. His eyes were on Anders again as the blond mage opened his eyes and blinked, staring up at Hal who was still working on him, the redhead’s eyes closed.

Anders growled, very softly, his fingers twitching - almost as though they were still claws.

“Anders.” Fenris said in a low voice as he responded in kind, his own voice going deep and his claws starting to flex. “You’re human, remember, please?” he asked his love. 

“ _Mi cuore_ ,” breathed Zevran, gazing at Anders. The mage was staring at Fenris, eyes narrowed as he started to pull away from Hal, lips curling back from his teeth in a snarl.

“Anders, hold still -” began Hal as he opened his eyes and reached towards the other mage, then broke off with a low cry as Anders suddenly sank his teeth hard into the redhead’s wrist and bit down with a savage growl.

“ANDERS NO!” Fenris yelled before he jumped over to pull the blond’s hair, hoping he could get him to let go of the younger man. “Stop this, please, STOP!” 

Anders snarled and pulled hard, trying to free himself from Fenris, Hal’s blood smeared across his lips and chin. His amber eyes were wild and bestial as he glared at the elf. Hal was staring at him in shock as he cradled his bleeding wrist to his chest.

“Anders!” cried Zevran as he tried to shrug Invictus off him.

“Let Fenris deal with this, stop it Zev.” Vic said as he held the elf in his arms.

“Anders, you are not an animal, you’re a human. You’re a mage, and not a tiger. You hurt someone, and you’re scaring us. Listen to me, please and come back to us because I don’t want to fight you.” Fenris said as he wrapped his arms around Anders and held him despite the blond’s struggles. “You know I can hold you still with no effort, just come back to us please love.” he said softly. 

Anders howled in fury as he writhed frantically, alarmingly strong even against Fenris as he struggled, twisting with almost preternatural fluid movements that made Invictus wince, certain the mage would regret them when he finally came back to himself. Anders snarled, mindless, then sank his teeth into Fenris’ shoulder, still snarling as blood welled up around his teeth.

Fenris grit his teeth but held on even as the mage savaged his shoulders, until he felt Anders suddenly shudder. 

Invictus saw Anders’ eyes widen, and then a look of shock cross his face as he lifted his head, licking the blood smeared across his lips tentatively before his expression turned to one of horror and revulsion.

“No... no, no, please, no!” the mage gasped and then he was struggling again, but this time whimpering instead of snarling. “Please... oh Maker no, no, not again!”

“Not letting go until you calm down.” Fenris hissed as he held the blond close even as his shoulder throbbed in pain. “Vic, someone put him to sleep please?” he asked hoarsely.

Invictus approached and gently pressed two fingers to Anders temple, poised to put him under until he heard the other mages pleading. “He’s afraid love.”

“Well, I’m afraid he’s going to bite someone else or change the moment I let him go. Do something, my shoulder hurts so much.” Fenris managed to get out. 

Anders stared up at Invictus, eyes wide with fright. “Please - don’t put me out!” he begged. “I’m sorry - I’m so sorry! I won’t bite only - please, don’t make me sleep!” Tears were welling up in his eyes as he begged.

Invictus sighed and dropped his hand before pulling Anders into his arms and being very careful of where he let the other mage rest his head. “Love, we’re frightened and we need to do something. You’ve hurt Fenris and Hal, you’re not alright. What do you want us to do?” He asked quietly. 

Anders slumped, quietening, then held out his hands, offering up his wrists. “T-tie me up,” he whispered.

Pin was watching, shocked and horrified. Her eyes were going from the bloody wound in her father’s shoulder, to bloodied mess Anders had made of Hal’s wrist, and then to the mage himself as he slumped in Invictus’ arms and asked to be tied up.

“Master Anders...” she breathed, and Anders began to sob dejectedly.

“I know what it will do to tie you or bind you, I’m not doing that to you love.” Vic said as he held Anders as he sobbed. “If you start to change again, or get feral I will put you to sleep for a few hours will that be ok?” he asked.

Fenris had sunk to his knees, head down as he felt the burn in his shoulder from his wound. He touched it and grimaced at all the blood that came away. “Pin...I need your help.” he said finally. 

Pin moved to her father’s side and sucked in her breath as she saw the mess Anders’ teeth had made of his shoulder. She glanced up to call for Hal then realised Dorian was busy with the redhead, bandaging Hal’s wrist as the young healer continued to stare at Anders in shock. She bit her lip, then called upon the healing spirits as she tried to remember her lessons, setting to work to heal her father.

Anders bowed his head as he cried. “Just... Vic, I’m afraid to sleep,” he managed to get out. “Just - please, just tie me up, I’ll bear it. What if I don’t wake up myself again? What if - what if I lose myself again?” He closed his eyes. “Please, just do it. Don’t put me to sleep, I beg you.”

Zevran lay still, watching Anders silently as Arden continued to work on his back. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes as he watched Anders fall to pieces, blood on his lips and smeared down his chin, huddling naked in their husband’s arms.

“Can I get you cleaned up at least? I won’t take your dignity as well love.” Vic said quietly as he glanced at Zevran then over to where Fenris was wincing as Pin worked on him. “Can you help Fenris out? I think Pin may need help and I doubt he wants Arden or Hal touching him.” he asked softly. 

Anders was staring at his hands, at the blood under his nails, as though only just noticing it. He was shaking now, his eyes dazed as he glanced over at Fenris then down at Zevran. He let his eyes drift up to where Arden was working on Zevran’s shoulder, then looked down at his hands again. His fingers flexed, jerkily, and then he gave a low moan of dismay.

“Love? Do you want me to get you cleaned up first?” Vic asked softly as he looked around for that blanket and something he could create ice in and melt it. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” whispered Anders. “I never dreamed I would wake with blood in my mouth again. Please tell me I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You didn’t, just kind of...chomped on a couple people.” Vic said as he started them away from the clearing so Anders could sick up without everyone staring at him.

Anders stared at him in horror then stumbled over to the nearest tree and threw up, spitting out blood.

It was a few minutes before he was able to stand properly, shaking and weak as he leaned against Invictus. “Maker,” he moaned softly, trying to get his legs to stop shaking and wishing he dared lie down to sleep. “I wish Callus had never said a word about the other Anders or birds or dragons. I was happier not knowing. I forgot for a reason - it’s too easy for a mage to forget their true self. I - I forgot, Vic. I forgot I was human. You, Fenris, Zev - when I opened my eyes, I didn’t know who Hal was, only that I was helpless and I was angry.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose, no one is mad at you love. Please, just let me get you cleaned up and get that blanket around you so we can get everyone patched up and back to camp before its dark.” Vic said as he led Anders over to a patch of grass before fetching the blanket, something try and wipe the other mage’s face off. 

Anders sat still and closed his eyes as Invictus cleaned him up as best as possible. As Invictus finally pulled away, Anders’ face and hands as clean as he could make them for now, the blond mage regarded him with dull misery. “I think I’d still feel safer if you’d agree to tie me,” he confessed. “I don’t trust myself.”

“Can it be enough that I trust you?” Vic asked from where he was crouched in front of his husband. “I know what it will do to you to be tied up, and with us all together, I dare say we can get you down and get through to you again. You will have to sleep eventually, even if you just are too tired to keep your eyes open. Do you trust us?” Vic said, though he was distracted by Pin apologizing for hurting her father as she worked.

“What happens if I change in my sleep? What if I awaken before you do?” replied Anders. “I trust you whilst you’re awake - but I don’t trust myself at all right now.” He shook his head. “At least promise me you’ll tie me up before you sleep yourself. That way I can’t hurt anyone. You can untie me when you’re certain I’m still myself.”

“Fine, if I just bloody have to! I hate this Anders, I don’t want to truss you up like damned turkey just to get a little nap.” Vic said angrily before he calmed himself. “Sorry, I’m sorry I’m not upset with you. Come on love, let’s get you back over to Zevran before he hurts himself trying to be with you.”

Arden had finished healing Zevran’s back as they returned; he was washing the blood from Zevran’s skin as the Antivan lay still, only his eyes moving as he watched Anders and Invictus returning. 

Arden gave Zevran’s back one last wipe with the damp cloth then moved over to where Dorian was trying to get some wine into Hal. The Antivan stayed where he was, merely watching Anders as the mage approached him. 

Anders grew tearful again as he stared down at Zevran, and he fell to his knees and stared at the elf miserably. Zevran regarded him silently, then reached out one hand towards him and beckoned him to come closer.

Invictus let them alone to talk, glad that Anders had been brought back to himself. He went over to Hal and Dorian to check on them. “You alright there Hal?”

“He bit me,” said Hal faintly. “He just... he _bit_ me.”

“Hal is rather _not_ alright, I think,” said Dorian quietly as he moved back to let Arden care for his boyfriend. “In shock. Must be very disorienting to go from healing someone to suddenly being aware you’ve been bitten, hmm? Particularly by someone like Anders.” He frowned. “I’m afraid that little incident was witnessed by far too many people, Invictus. I shan’t be able to keep it from Meneris. He’s already in more than half a mind to send all of you back to Nevarra - if it weren’t for this Nightmare business then you’d all have been sent off long ago. As it is, he’s wondering if you’re all worth the bother any further. I think he was on the verge of having Hal carried off bodily under arrest if he refused to leave without you all.”

“I don’t know if that would be a bad thing honestly?” Vic said as he watched the other mages. “Fenris is going to be in pain for a while from that bite, he was already emotionally fucked up. Anders will take a while to recover and Zevran much as I love him, he’s hard headed and won’t listen to his body. You know things are bad when I’m the rational one around here.” Vic glanced over and frowned when he heard Fenris yelp in pain again. “That didn’t sound good.” 

Dorian gestured towards Anders, who had reached out to let Zevran’s hand take his. “I hardly think Anders is in any fit state to do anything about it, do you?” he remarked. “Fenris is a big boy, I’m sure he can handle a bite. Anders at least realised what he was doing before he could do any _real_ harm.”

“Did you see the state of his shoulder? That wasn’t just a bite like Hal got, it's a mess and since Anders was kind of not himself I have no idea what kind of germs he might have left in there.” Vic said with a frown. “He also barely makes a noise when he’s in pain, like a certain Antivan I know.” 

Dorian was regarding the Antivan thoughtfully as Invictus spoke. “Perhaps. That doesn’t make what I said any less true however.” He gestured at the blond mage. “Look at him, Invictus - do you honestly think he’s going to be capable of anything right now?”

Anders was kneeling beside Zevran, his head bowed as he held Zevran’s hand. The Antivan has sat up and was talking to Anders in a low voice as he tried to get Anders to look at him.

“I know he’s not, and I’m utter shit at healing even with years of lessons from Anders. It's clear Pin isn’t quite at a level to deal with his injury though.” Vic said with a telling glance at Hal and Arden. He wasn’t going to be the one to suggest either of them help Fenris. 

Arden was holding Hal’s wrist gently between his hands, channelling healing into it as Hal watched. After a few minutes, Hal glanced up at him, the pinched look of pain easing from his face as he managed to give Arden a shaky smile. The blond former Champion leaned forward to kiss him lightly, and then glanced over at Pin who was biting her lip, clearly distressed at her failure to heal her father's injury and wincing every time he flinched.

“Just sit still and rest,” Arden told Hal as he handed the wineskin to him. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He patted the redhead on the shoulder then slowly walked towards Fenris as the tall elf groaned and tried to hold still, Pin still valiantly attempting to heal the messy wound in her father’s shoulder.

He watched for a moment, tilting his head a little to one side as he watched. “You’re trying to heal the outside first,” he said quietly as he stared down at the wound, standing just out of reach of the elf’s hands should Fenris decide to take umbrage at his presence. “You have to work from the inside out, otherwise it will pull open as you try to heal it.”

Fenris tried to turn and glare at the blond mage but that was a mistake as he felt pain shoot up his neck. Instead he stared at the ground, face drawn down in a scowl. “ _I don’t care about you at all, I don’t_ isn’t that what you said to me Hawke? Why come over to help now?” Fenris said as he forced himself to remain still, though he hated the idea of being on his knees around Arden. 

“Men may say many things in the midst of grief, yes,” Arden agreed, his voice carefully neutral. “Particularly when talking to someone who isn’t listening to what they’re really saying. I have no doubt those were probably the words I used. I wasn’t really aware at the time.” He frowned slightly. “No... Pin, lighter. You’re not pushing things around with your magic; you need to lightly guide the healing wisps to where they need to be. That’s better.” Arden’s eyes flicked up to meet Fenris’ gaze for a moment before returning to the wound. “Your daughter was becoming very distressed at her failure to be able to help her father. I have no quarrel with Pin, regardless of how I may feel about you - or you about me.”

Pin looked up at him. “I’m trying, but I don’t seem to be able to get them to go where they need to be!” she said in frustration. “And - and how do I stop it hurting my father whilst I do it?”

“You need to apply a nerve block,” said Arden gently. “But I don’t think your father would want me to touch him.”

“But - but he’s in pain! Why won’t you help him?” she protested.

Arden gave her a sad smile. “It’s not that I won’t, Pin. But that I can’t. I can’t use my healing on him if he doesn’t wish it; that would make me no worse than his former master - or yours. I refuse to inflict my magic without consent, Pin. Even on someone who hates me as he does.”

“That didn’t stop you from attacking Zevran.” Fenris snarled as he staggered to his feet and held himself steady until the dizziness passed. “Show her then, or do it yourself. I’m in too much pain to care who fixes my shoulder anymore.” he said before falling back to his knees and grimacing at how that added to his pain.

“Easy there,” said Arden as he moved forward, one hand reaching out already glowing with healing magic as he laid it lightly over the wound. He sank his senses down into the ripped and bleeding flesh, seeking out unerringly the places that hurt and soothing them with a delicate touch. His eyes were already closed as he let his senses move inside the wound. “Pin,” he said softly. “Lay your hand over mine. Feel as I feel, let your magic touch mine.”

Fenris felt the magic tingling as Pin joined hers with Arden’s. She rested her other hand lightly on Fenris’ other shoulder as she focused on what Arden was doing.

“Human mouths are full of dirt, Pin,” Arden said softly, almost absently. “Every bite will need careful cleaning. You have to make sure you get all the infection before it will heal. There... you see?”

“I see it,” she agreed. “What are you doing now?” 

“The infection has to go somewhere,” said Arden absently. “So we ask the wisp to take it. Spirits are immune to human diseases. The spirits I can call up are just these little wisps, but Anders and Hal can call up more powerful ones, as will you - in time. But for now, these little wisps will do the job nicely. Ah, there, see? They’re doing it themselves now.”

Fenris’ shoulder felt odd; it was unfamiliar to feel two mages working upon one wound at the same time like this. But the pain had lessened a great deal now.

“Now, I’ll hold the nerve block in place. You draw the wound back together and heal it.” Arden’s breath was warm on Fenris’ skin as the mage spoke.

“Are you sure?” Pin sounded uncertain.

“Go right ahead. I promise I won’t let your father feel any pain.”

Fenris kept his mouth closed and did not let out the reply that sprung to mind, but he did turn his head slightly to glare at Arden. If not for his daughter’s presence, he would have responded very differently to being forced to endure the other mage’s touch. He finally closed his eyes and let his head drop as they worked. 

Pin and Arden spoke quietly, the older mage guiding the younger as she drew the torn blood vessels and muscle back together then stitching the whole together seamlessly with magic. Arden kept his senses within Fenris’ body the whole time, his voice sounding distracted as he directed Pin yet kept all pain muted so that Fenris could barely feel anything - merely the disquieting ripple of magic through flesh.

“But how do we heal the skin so it doesn’t leave a scar?” asked Pin.

“That takes more skill. I think I need to take over here. Now it’s your turn to watch as I work, alright?” murmured Arden. “I won’t be able to talk you through this bit; I’m not Anders or Hal so I’ll need all my concentration.”

As Fenris opened his eyes and glanced up at the mage, he saw that Arden’s eyes were closed in concentration, a small frown furrowing his brow. Absently, Arden bit his lip, unaware he was being watched.

Fenris continued to watch until he saw Arden’s eyes opening and he quickly turned away and let his eyes close again as he tried to relax even as he felt Ardens’ touch to his newly healed shoulder.

“There, it’s done,” said Arden, his fingers brushing lightly over the smooth skin, before he looked up at Pin and smiled at her tiredly. “That’s basically all there is to it. Just always work from the inside out, and make sure you clear any possible infection out first before you start.” He lifted his fingers away from Fenris’ skin then slowly backed away. He turned and stumbled slightly, catching himself before he walked back to Hal.

Fenris stretched his arm, glad to be pain free though unhappy he had to let Arden be the one to do it. He turned and gave Pin a smile. “Thank you, I know you were doing your best.” 

Pin sighed. “I’m sorry, Father. I don’t think I’m ever going to make it as a healer.”

Zevran had managed to coax Anders to stand, the blanket tugged around him firmly. The blond mage was staring at the ground, refusing to look at anyone; Zevran stood with one hand curled around both Anders’ wrists as he rubbed his eyes slowly with his other hand, looking tired and frowning slightly.

“You’ll be a great healer Pin, don’t let this make you feel like you aren’t good. You’re smart and wonderful.” Fenris said as he put an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, we should get back and you should eat after healing so much today.” 

“Is Master Zevran going to be alright?” she asked quietly. “He’s been standing there with Master Anders the whole time Arden was healing up your scar. Is - is he going to tie him up?”

“I don’t know, I sort of heard them talking and I think Anders is afraid of changing again. Come on let’s get everyone back to camp, I’m exhausted and I’m sure Anders would like some clothes.” Fenris said as they headed back towards the tents.

Invictus joined his other two spouses and helped them head for the camp, not far behind Fenris and Pin, leaving Hal and Arden to bring up the rear. 

Anders started to hang back a little as they drew closer to the camp, looking up at the sea of tents being set up with nervousness. Zevran tightened his grip around Anders’ wrist and carried on walking; Anders hung his head and let himself be led on. The Antivan’s face was grim as they walked, and he ignored the stares that they attracted as they made their way through the camp towards their tent.

He pushed Anders into the tent ahead of himself, then tugged the mage over to their packs before pulling out clothes and handing them to Anders who dressed swiftly. Zevran gestured to the bedroll, and Anders sat, hanging his head as he waited for the others to enter. Zevran stared down at him for a moment, then shook his head and turned to find a clean shirt for himself.

Fenris watched Pin as she turned off to find her tent and Marian. He hung back until he saw Arden and Hal approaching. He stared down the blond mage for a moment before giving a nod of his head. “Thank you for healing me and instructing Pin.” 

Arden halted and regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before inclining his head in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome,” he replied quietly, his eyes tired as he stared up at Fenris. “If your shoulder gives you any more trouble, the infirmary tent should be up shortly - or you can come and find me.” He glanced to Hal, who was still rather pale and in shock. “Please excuse me - I need to look after Hal.” 

The redhead blinked and glanced up at his name, one hand still cradling his bandaged wrist; his eyes focused on Fenris. “Please - tell Anders I - I forgive him? He wasn’t himself.”

“You can tell him yourself, he’s still in shock and won’t listen to us now.” Fenris said before turning and heading to their tent, eager for sleep.

He entered to find Invictus pacing with a scowl and Zevran in the process of binding Anders’ wrists firmly behind his back. Anders’ ankles were already tied together, and Anders was staring down at the ground, refusing to look at anyone.

“Tonight, I watch you,” Zevran said grimly. “When I cannot keep my eyes open, then Invictus will watch you, and then after that Fenris. Sooner or later you must sleep. If you awaken and you are yourself? Then we will have no more of this nonsense, you hear? And no more ropes.”

“And if I change?” asked Anders, his voice trembling.

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” replied Zevran. “Now. These are new ropes; they will hold a tiger, I am thinking. But I do not think there will be any more tigers.”

“You can’t know that!” cried Anders.

“Anders...we don’t know that but we do love you and we can’t go around fearing you.” Fenris said quietly as he approached. “I can change to a dragon, a very large, fire breathing creature at will. None of you fear me, or that I can do this. Why should we fear you?” the elf asked as he pulled a boot off. 

“Because I nearly killed Zevran. I bit Hal - I bit _you!_ ” Anders cried. “I forgot who I was! What if I dream I’m a tiger again, and change in my sleep?”

Zevran had moved to check the ropes binding Anders’ ankles; at the mage’s words, he leaned forward and grasped Anders’ chin firm with his hand and forced the other man to look him in the eye. “I may not be a mage, but I know this - the other you, who is now Mythal? He did not change to a bird by accident. It took an effort of will, though if startled or hurt he would change back to a man without choice. A man does not forget the shape he has lived in for forty years merely like that, _mi cuore_. It was not by mere accident you changed to a tiger in Invictus’ arms, no?” He looked at Invictus. “ _Mi amor_ , tell me - when you felt his bones shifting beneath his skin, did that seem to you to be a thing he might do accidentally?”

Invictus shuddered involuntarily at the thought of how that felt. “No, not at all.” 

“You’re not going to randomly shift if the effort it took is any indication Anders. Will it make you feel better if I hold you as well as leave you tied? Though it will be uncomfortable for him to sleep that way Zevran.” Fenris said as he pulled his tunic off with a slight wince. 

Zevran shrugged. “He insisted he would feel safer this way. It means one of us must feed him by hand, but he is the one who will endure the discomfort.”

“I don’t want any of you too near me in case I change,” Anders said darkly. “I know that eventually I won’t be able to keep awake any longer - and when that happens I don’t want any of you touching me. I don’t want to risk hurting any of you any further.”

Fenris stared at him for a while then looked to the others before swearing loudly in Tevene out of frustration. 

“Everyone calm down. I’ll get us dinner, you three stay here and I’ll be back soon. Just calm down.” Vic said before heading out to find the cook tent. 

He’d barely taken two steps outside before he was flanked by Cullen on one side and Meneris on the other. 

“A word, Hawke,” said Cullen as Cassandra and Varric stepped out to join them, Krem stepping up with Dorian on the other side.

“Not too keen on this, Hawke, but I think you understand we’re rather concerned?” said Varric as Cullen gestured for him to walk with them.

“There are too many who are aware now of what Anders is,” stated Cassandra quietly. “And who were witness to his attack on Hal and then Fenris. Some are saying that he nearly killed Zevran.”

“Maker’s balls could you let me get something to eat and a drink before you all ambush me in the middle of a sea of tents?!” Invictus snapped at Cullen. 

“This can’t wait,” said Meneris coldly. He nodded to the others and Invictus found himself ushered into an empty tent.

“What caused Anders to attack Zevran?” asked Cullen. “And more to the point - what’s to say he won’t turn on anyone else?”

“They want to lock him up until we’re certain he’s no threat, Hawke,” Varric warned him.

Invictus tried to stay calm as he found himself surrounded. “Can you all give me some space at least, I don’t like feeling as if I’m about to be hauled off in chains.” he said as he paced to force them to move. 

“Cullen and Meneris you remember in the Fade how the other Anders was shape shifting to a bird?” Vic asked them.

“A bird, yes - not some savage beast that bites people and claws their backs to shreds!” exclaimed Cullen heatedly; he backed down as Meneris gestured at him to be still.  
“I was there yes Invictus, and despite how heated our friend Cullen is, you have to admit this is strange and frightening.” Meneris said with a bit of gentleness.

“Oh I know its frightening Inqui--, I mean Meneris. Something triggered a memory of changing in our Anders, something about being a cat or a bird, something. And he wouldn’t let it go once we answered that the other Anders had been able to shape shift. I have no idea why he turned to a tiger, considering how he went nearly catatonic when we ran into an actual tiger years ago.” Vic scrubbed at his face as he continued to pace around. 

“Right now, he’s bound hand and foot by Zevran, and we’re going to take turns watching over him. I think he will be fine and is likely too scared to shift on his own; his fear is sleeping and possibly changing in his sleep and hurting anyone.” Vic finished.

“I should send the lot of you home and then you can meet up with us at the fortress. You all are a danger, slowing us down and frankly a damned distraction! If it's not Fenris having some emotional melt down, then its something between Hal, Arden and him. Or the teens, or Zevran and --” Meneris have carried on ranting if not for Cassandra acting as a voice of calm. 

“Meneris,” she said firmly, her voice cutting across him mid-rant. “You know as well as I do that we can’t let people use portals until Nightmare is dealt with. They cannot simply meet us there; we do not know what effect it would have to open a portal that close to Adamant. It might let Nightmare through with whoever opened it.” She shook her head. “And we need Hal. He’s the only one who could destroy that eluvian, and Mythal gave him something. It was Hal who insisted we wait when Anders and Zevran disappeared. It seems we need one or both of them, at the very least. We cannot simply send them all away.” She fixed Invictus with a stern look. “Their behaviour has been, I will agree, simply unacceptable and would have certainly have resulted in disciplinary proceedings under any command of mine....”

“I wouldn’t bloody stand for it in the Chargers either,” chimed in Krem with a frown. She nodded to him in acknowledgement.

“But we cannot send Anders and Zevran away, Hal and Arden certainly must not leave, and if anyone else leaves now then they cannot join us at Adamant,” Cassandra finished.

“If Anders thinks he’s a danger, then we should have him clapped in irons and put under armed guard,” said Cullen with a frown. “I don’t trust a few ropes and a tent to keep a tiger under control, and I won’t allow a dangerous animal to put our people at risk.”

Invictus glared at Cullen. “Then you better lock Fenris up too, since he can turn to a dragon at will. You already fucked up when you put Hal in chains and poisoned him because you think all mages are one step from turning into abominations, so pardon me if I don’t think much of your judgement Cullen.” 

“Stop, just bloody stop it. We’ll check in on you all in the morning and if Anders is still swearing he’s a danger, he gets shackled and under Fenris’ watch since he’s probably one of the few of us strong enough to keep hold of Anders if he changes again. He rides in a cart, under guard and if he’s better by tomorrow? We keep a careful eye on him. We ride hard and fast with the sunrise on the morrow, no arguments, no more delays. Am I clear?” Meneris asked everyone gathered. 

“Why not shackle him now? Be certain of it?” insisted Cullen.

“Curly, if I know Blondie, he’s probably already begged for shackles and the Crow’s taken the steps he thinks are necessary. He’s the one who’s probably got more experience of what Anders as a tiger can do than anyone else here, Hawke included. So, you wanna give Hawke a spare set of shackles, you go right ahead - but as far as I’m concerned, let him stay in their tent where the Crow’s got all his handy little poisons and what have you to put a hundred tigers to sleep,” said Varric with a pointed look.

“Varric is right,” said Cassandra as she laid a hand on Cullen’s arm. “It will likely be no use in any case. If he can become a tiger, and the other Anders could become a bird, then there is nothing we have with us that can confine him in any case. What is to say he will next become a mouse, too small for chains - or a dragon, too powerful to be contained by them?”

“Yes, Cassandra, let’s all make sure we have nightmares tonight, shall we?” said Dorian acerbically. “Or perhaps you could actually ask the two mages present, hmm?” He frowned. “If Anders hasn’t accidentally changed in his sleep before now, I think it extremely unlikely he’ll start now. It likely took him a great deal of pain and discomfort to change into a shape so unlike his own in the first place; not the sort of thing one does by accident. I suggest we all calm down, let Hawke find food for himself and his husbands, and see what state Anders is in come morning.”

“Thank you Dorian, now if you all will let me go?” Vic asked testily.

“Very well, you are dismissed Invictus. Know my patience for all of you is at an end however.” Meneris said as the former First Enchanter passed him. 

Varric walked beside Invictus as far as the mess tent. “Bad business this, Hawke,” he sighed. “Best hope things settle down before we reach the Western Approach and meet up with the Divine’s people. You, er, might want to keep any mention of tigers to yourself around the Divine’s people though. I know Carver’s your brother and all but... well, they’re still Chantry folk, and there has to be a reason why there are no shape shifters in the Circles, know what I’m saying?”

“Varric, I appreciate the pep talk but I was an apostate for most of my life remember? I love my brother but this isn’t going beyond me and our family if I can help it. Now if you don’t mind, I really want dinner after being threatened, watching my husband’s get hurt and I’m the only one who wasn’t on edge until now.” Vic said tiredly.

“And if I know Blondie he’s probably beside himself over it all and miserable about hurting anyone,” nodded Varric. “Hope you all have a quiet night, Hawke.”

“Thanks Varric.” Vic said before trudging off to the cook fire and then back to the tent, hoping they could have a nice, quiet night. 

**

Zevran fed Anders by hand that evening. The mage had very little appetite; Zevran waited until Anders had had all he could manage before he would eat his own food. 

Anders was unwilling to lie down to sleep; he settled himself so his back was resting against one of the upright poles of the tent, legs stretched out in front of him, determined to stay awake as long as he could. He wouldn’t let Zevran stay near him, instead insisting the elf watch him from near the bedrolls where Invictus and Fenris settled themselves to sleep. Zevran settled himself as comfortably as he could for a long night’s watch.

He nudged Invictus awake several hours later. “My pardon, my love - but I cannot keep my eyes open any longer,” said the Antivan wearily. “He is still awake, I fear.”

Anders was still sitting with his back against the tent pole at the other end of the tent. His head was bowed, but as Zevran spoke he lifted his head and stared towards them. Even from here, Invictus could see his eyes looked bloodshot and exhausted.

“Alright, get some rest love.” Vic said as he settled into the spot left open and leaned back to watch Anders. 

“If you don’t sleep you’ll fall off your horse tomorrow” Vic said softly

Anders shook his head. “I’ll take that chance,” he replied, his weariness colouring his voice. “You’ve no idea what it’s like - being this afraid to sleep.”

“I don’t… but do you remember that time in our house in Kirkwall, when three desire demons attacked you when you were exhausted? Don’t sleep, you could invite demons in and fall off your horse tomorrow. Sleep and take the tiny chance you may shift again.” Vic said quietly as he could.

Anders stared at him, fear in his eyes. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t - don’t say that. I won’t fall to demons.” His breath had quickened. “Maker. As if I didn’t fear sleep enough already - now I fear staying awake almost as much.” He glanced away as he shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in his back. He flexed his wrists against the ropes without thinking.

“You’re only hurting yourself with this Anders, and us by extension. Please get a couple hours of sleep.” Vic pleaded. 

“I’m tired,” Anders confessed. “But I’m also afraid.” He looked back at Invictus. “I’m sorry - but I don’t trust myself. I - I nearly killed Zevran, didn’t I?” He bit his lip.

“I don’t think so, he was awake before you and talking. You’d have to ask Fenris, he brought you both back so he might have the best idea of how bad it was.” Vic said tiredly.

“Since you can’t let me sleep, I’ll just bloody tell you.” Fenris said as he sat up and joined Invictus. 

Anders jumped as he spoke, then gave Fenris a guilty look. “I’m sorry, love,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to keep you awake as well.” He let his head rest back against the pole and blinked. As he sighed quietly, his eyelids seemed to droop for a moment before his head began to lower slowly - only for his head to jerk up suddenly as Anders forced himself awake again.

Fenris frowned as he settled back and rested against Invictus’ chest. “You had fallen off a ledge and were far worse off than Zevran. He wanted me to help you, and if not for Mythal’s gifts, I may well have not heard his screaming. You pounced and he must have reacted. You’re both going to recover.” the elf said before yawning. 

“I don’t remember any of it,” said Anders dully. “I remember changing, and I wish I didn’t. Maker. I’d forgotten that part - all of it, but that part....” He shuddered. “I remember needing to get away, and the forest seemed to call to me. I think I was aware I was being followed. It gets hazy after that though, until I was being held tightly and there was blood in my mouth.” He looked at Fenris. “I’m sorry about that,” he added drowsily. “I really am.” His head was beginning to droop down again; as before, he started, eyes opening wide as he realised how close he’d come to falling asleep.

Fenris shrugged and yawned again. “I wish you’d just sleep Anders, please?” the elf pleaded.

“We’ve all been asking for hours, he won’t listen to us love.” Vic said softly, even as he rubbed a finger over the shoulder where he’d been bitten. “Did a good job, I’m surprised.” he mumbled.

“So am I.” Fenris agreed quietly, he was fighting off sleep himself, and failing. 

Anders was yawning as well, though still fighting against sleep. His head was hanging low again. “Scared,” he slurred. “Might... might not wake up. Might not be me....”

“You’ll be fine love, just rest...please.” Vic said as he watched Anders fight against sleep while Fenris had nodded off just as quickly as he’d snapped awake. 

Anders was silent for so long that Invictus began to think he had actually fallen asleep, but then he stirred slightly. “Scared,” he slurred again. “Lonely.”

“Not alone, we’re here love’ Vic assured him as he watched Anders continue to struggle against sleep. 

Anders was staring at the floor; after a while, he nodded exhaustedly. “Not alone,” he murmured. He lifted his head with an effort to glance at the candle. “Don’t let it go out,” he pleaded.

“Of course, love I won’t leave you in the dark I promise.” Vic said. 

Anders nodded understanding. As Invictus watched, his eyes grew heavier until finally Anders gave up fighting it and let them close, his head drooping until his chin rested against his chest, his breath rasping slightly in his throat as it deepened and slowed. He was deeply asleep at last.

Invictus let out a breath and leaned back, watching Anders sleep until he too was out like a snuffed candle until daybreak. 

He woke to find Zevran and Fenris were crouched over Anders. At some point, the mage had fallen over to sleep upon the floor, so deeply asleep that he never woke even when his face hit the dust. Zevran was working to untie Anders’ wrists; Fenris was gently wiping the dirt from Anders’ face. 

Anders stirred slightly, turning his face away slightly as his eyelids fluttered and he sighed.

Fenris sighed and caressed his husband’s face. “I don’t want to wake him.” he whispered. 

“We have to know,” said Zevran sombrely. “There, his hands are free now.” He moved to start untying Anders’ ankles.

Anders’ eyes opened, and for a moment they were still full of sleep and dazed. Then the mage blinked, and Invictus could see terror briefly fill his eyes before being replaced with shock and anger. Anders jerked his head away from Fenris’ touch and stared up at him. “What have you done?” he cried. “You - you untied me! You had no way of knowing if I’d be myself when I awakened!”

“Anders...you didn’t change.” Fenris said quietly as he sat back and watch. 

Anders sat up and rubbed his wrists as he stared at Zevran, the Antivan still working at the knots on his ankles without looking up. Anders swallowed hard. “I still might not have been myself,” he finally managed. “I might have bitten you.”

“Then I’d have dealt with it. I could bite back remember?” Fenris grinned and let his fangs show for a moment. 

“Anders, for the love of Andraste, stop being so damned overly cautious!” Vic said.

Anders closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. “I had no idea if I would wake as myself. I might have hurt one of you. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d killed one of you.”

“My heart, you did not. You are yourself. Do you feel you might change?” asked Zevran.

“No,” said Anders slowly.

“Do you _wish_ to change?” Zevran pushed.

“ _No!_ ” cried Anders.

“Then you will not change,” shrugged Zevran. “And there, the knot is undone!”

“Do you trust us?” Fenris asked almost in tandem with Invictus. 

“With my life,” breathed Anders.

“Then please let us help you!” Fenris begged him. “Please?” 

Anders stared at them each in turn before gazing up at Fenris. “Alright,” he said, his voice hushed and quiet. “How? What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to get breakfast, pack up and ride like we mean business. Then you will see Meneris and let him know you’re fine then we carry on to Adamant.” Vic said. 

Anders shuddered at mention of the fortress; slowly he reached down to rub the red marks on his ankles where the ropes had chafed his skin as he slept, then his wrists once more until Zevran laid a hand over his fingers, stilling them.

“Come,” said the Antivan. “You did not eat enough last night. You must make up for that this morning.”

When they emerged from the tent, they found Meneris waiting with Cullen and the others; several of Cullen’s men were ringed loosely around the tent, keeping other people away. Anders glanced around and then his eyes went to Meneris.

 

“Morning Anders...we came by to see how you’re doing.” Meneris said as he let his hand rest on the daggers along his belt.

“And I’m the Queen of Antiva, you’re not subtle,” Fenris said. 

Anders’ eyes had gone to the daggers before he lifted his eyes to meet Meneris’ stare. He unconsciously rubbed the rope burn on one wrist as he tried to ignore the armed men.

“I slept,” he replied finally. “I’m still human. I haven’t bitten anyone.” The unspoken _yet_ seemed to hang upon the air between them.

“He’s fine Meneris, stop the dick waving contest and let us get on with the day. Anders is fine and we’re keeping an eye on him.” Invictus said testily.

“If you want to start something, then you’ll have to tie me up too.” Fenris added.

“No, love,” said Anders quietly. He was still returning Meneris’ stare unflinchingly. “What is it to be, Meneris?”

The elf watched Anders for a long time before nodding at him. “One more thing and you all get put under guard until Adamant. Get lined up and don’t cause another fucking problem, not a one.” Meneris said before turning and heading for the command tent. 

Anders waited until Cullen and his men had gone, then turned back to Fenris and exhaled. “I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t just order me clapped in chains for the hell of it, with Cullen ready to do it too,” he confessed. “And if he’d ordered it last night then I’d have gone without a fight - but not now,” he added. “Not in full possession of my wits after you three had talked sense into me at last.” He smiled gently at Fenris. “Though I’d have submitted rather than allow you three to be threatened - but I’d have made it clear it was only for that reason.”

“Good, now let’s get going. I don’t like being surrounded before I’ve even had a morning piss.” Fenris snarled as they waited for Anders to go ahead. 

The company rode out a couple of hours later. There was a different feel to the company now; a sense of unfriendly eyes on the four as they rode. Even the other battlemages seemed uneasy around Anders now. Varric was the only one who seemed comfortable in their company, and too often he was up front with the rest of the command.

The company rode hard and fast for the Western Approach, meeting with the Divine’s forces on the edge, under the leadership of Carver. It was late the second day after the Chantry forces had joined them before Carver was able to seek his brother out, expressing surprise that Invictus and the others seemed to have been relegated to the outskirts of the camp and no longer in favour.

“Maker’s breath, brother, what have you all done now?” he asked as he stared back at the camp. “Did you piss in Cullen’s porridge or something?”

“Don’t start Carver.” Vic snapped as he let Carver follow him into the camp. 

He was halted by Carver’s hand on his arm. “Vic,” said Carver, his tone serious. “Talk to me. We’ve run into demons constantly the past hundred miles. They’re crawling all around here, and since I’ve arrived my men have heard nothing but crazy stories about Anders being a pet demon you’re keeping caged in your tent at night and that the real Anders was eaten by a tiger and all kinds of other insanities. And here you all are out on the edge of the camp and Meneris practically spitting when your name is so much as mentioned. What’s going on?”

“Nothing! And I will thank you not to spread stupid rumors about Anders.” Vic said testily.

Carver’s scowl deepened. “Vic, I’m here with a force of templars and they’re none too keen on demon stories and jumpy enough as it is. I can tell them not to listen and I can punish the ones I catch repeating it. But I didn’t get to be the Knight Commander of the Divine’s personal guard by being a bloody idiot and I can see something’s happened. It’s one thing to keep your secrets back in Kirkwall where the stakes were low and it was just you and your friends. But out here you’re going to get people killed doing that - my _men_ , Vic, who are here on your say so. So you talk to me, Vic. We don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Invictus let out an angry sigh before relating the tale to his brother. “Now can you leave me be? I’m fucking tired and I just want to sleep more than anything right now, brother.” Vic said.

Carver stared out across the barren wasteland and gave a long, low whistle. “Well. I can understand some of the looks I saw earlier now. The scuttlebutt about Anders being a demon or dead - I can squelch that, though I find myself wondering what in the Void has gotten into Cullen that he didn’t do something about that. Sounds like there’s a whole other mess here that you’re not telling me about, so there’s fuck all I can do about that. But bring Anders over to the Chantry camp tomorrow after sun-up and I’ll do what I can for him.” 

He nodded to his brother before he headed back across to the templar camp.

Invictus waited until he was gone before falling into a bedroll and going straight to sleep after a harrowing couple of days. 

The following morning, Invictus and Anders walked over to the Chantry camp after a breakfast he’d barely touched.

“I can’t say I’m too comfortable at the idea of strolling into a camp full of templars, Vic, even if it’s your brother leading them,” Anders confided quietly. He was aware of Zevran and Fenris following them behind, but that didn’t seem to be deterring the hostile and wary looks being thrown his way. “And frankly I just -” 

His voice tailed off as they reached the templar camp to find Carver and fifteen templars in full armour standing waiting for them. 

“Oh. This... this looks bad,” said Anders quietly.

Fenris growled under his breath, not liking the way Carver and his unit had come up to greet them. “Is this necessary?” he asked Zevran

“Look around,” murmured Zevran out of the corner of his mouth. “Half the Chargers are within view, yes? Best possible audience, if we wish to silence these rumours.”

“Carver, what’s going on?” asked Anders quietly, eyeing the templars warily.

“Quite simple really, if a bit uncomfortable for you,” replied Carver quietly. “I’ve picked out my fifteen most trustworthy templars, all senior, all trusted by the Divine Victoria herself. You allow five of them to Smite you in turn - and then they do a group Cleanse on you. We both know the Cleanse won’t do anything - there’s nothing in you to be Cleansed. It’s all for show and I’m afraid it’ll be bloody uncomfortable for you. But there won’t be a single bastard watching capable of claiming you’re a demon or possessed afterwards. And right now there’s a lot of scared people in camp that are going to be jumpy enough as it is without having any mishaps.”

“Really Carver? Or is it Knight Commander Hawke that I should call you?” Vic asked tersely. 

“Right now there’s no difference between the two, Vic,” replied Carver. “I’m doing this to protect my people as much as Anders here.” He inclined his head slightly towards the small crowd starting to gather. “And we need them to be able to trust Anders; some of those poor blighters will need him to put them back together again in the next few days.” He cleared his throat slightly. “Don’t look now, but I think a certain former Knight Commander himself has shown up to see what I’m up to - and the former Inquisitor with him. Cullen will know if we pull any punches, so this can’t be any mummery I’m afraid.”

“Alright,” said Anders, his face pale. “Any five?”

“I’d let you pick, but that would look bad,” Carver shrugged. “Don’t worry, you won’t be chained. You’ll stand in front of them of your own free will - and they’ll see you do it.”

Anders swallowed hard, then nodded before he turned to Invictus. “I suggest you go stand with Zevran and help him keep Fenris in check, love,” he suggested. “He’s not going to like this, and It’s not going to be pretty.”

“You really think I can stop Fenris if he flips out?” Vic said sullenly as he joined his other two husbands and waited.

“You can’t let them do this Vic! They’ll hurt him, what about his heart?” Fenris asked. 

“It sounds as though your _amicus_ shares your worries, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran quietly as Dorian’s voice drifted to them, arguing vociferously against “this barbarous display!!”

If Anders heard him, he gave no sign, walking out into the centre of the circle of templars. He glanced around the ring nervously.

One of the templars leaned forward and asked him something; Anders shook his head. The templar asked something else and Anders briefly glanced over, his eyes meeting Invictus’ before he nodded then looked away.

Invictus could feel the force of the Smite from where they stood; Anders reeled and dropped to one knee. The former Champion grabbed Fenris as the elf began to growl and surged forward; Zevran was already standing in front of the taller elf, bracing himself against the warrior.

Anders was getting back to his feet, shaking his head in answer to a question from one of the templars. He braced himself, but the second Smite still had him staggering a pace.

There was a ripple of whispers as Anders shook his head as though to dispel dizziness then straightened again.

The third and fourth Smites hit him almost simultaneously and Anders cried out as he dropped to his knees.

“STOP! You’re going to kill him! STOP!” Fenris screamed as he tried to get past Invictus. 

“Vic you can’t let them do this?!” he said as he was held back, barely. 

“I can...and we will let them. He agreed to it, stop this Fenris, you aren’t helping.” Vic said sadly. 

Across the ring, Dorian was shouting for them to stop, that he refused to stand by and be a party to this. Several other voices were calling for it to stop - not all of them mages either.

Anders had gotten back to his feet; blood was dripping from his nose. He stood, swaying, facing the last templar who was lifting a hand. She paused and asked him something; he shook his head and gestured to her to continue.

She turned to confer with the other templars; two of them were shaking their heads now. She glanced at the others; two more were shaking their heads. She looked back at Anders, clearly unwilling to proceed. He said something and she stared at him in shock before the other templars exchanged glances.

Anders turned and stared at Carver and said something; the Knight Commander glanced over at Invictus, then looked at Cullen before he turned to ask Anders something further. Anders nodded and made a gesture that clearly meant “get on with it”.

The female templar bowed to Anders, then hit him with a Smite that dropped him on the spot.

Fenris broke free from Invictus and ran over to Anders cradling him in his arms. “Stop, please...you’re going to kill him.” he begged Carver. 

“That’s it, there’ll be no more, Fenris,” replied Carver. “You have my word on it.”

“Ser Elf,” said the female templar who had cast the last Smite as she approached them. “We did not wish to proceed. Your friend argued most vehemently that he wished us to finish. He was incredibly valiant.” She glanced at Carver. “Knight Commander, I formally protest the necessity of the third and subsequent Smites. They were clearly not required. And I object to anything further being done to this mage. He is quite demonstrably not possessed in any manner whatsoever.”

“Your objection is formally noted,” Carver nodded.

“Fenris,” Anders managed to gasp, his eyelids fluttering. 

“I’m going to kill them for doing this to you.” Fenris said as he held Anders close to him, upset and frightened. “That was too much, they could have ended you.” 

Invictus came over to them, worried for both men. “Come on love, let’s get him to our tent.” 

The other templars had approached, several tugging off their helmets. They were regarding Anders with respect. 

“Your friend has our admiration for the way he withstood that,” said one of the older men. “I’ve met very few who could stand after only one Smite - to handle five and still be capable of speech?” He shook his head. “May we offer any assistance?”

Dorian was pushing past the crowds, Pin, Marian and Garrett behind him. “I’ll bloody murder Cullen, mark my words,” he was muttering to himself . “Anders? Invictus, how is he?” He glared at the templars. “Which of you two was it? Which two hit him at the same time?”

Two of the templars stepped forwards. “Our apologies, Ser, that was an error.” One of them turned to Carver.

“Knight Commander, we will place ourselves under arrest and confined to our tents until you have decided upon appropriate discipline.”

“Get out of my sight,” growled Carver.

Fenris helped Anders up and held him in his arms. “All of you out of my way, if I even see a templar insignia near him I will kill you.” he said as he headed for their tent.

“I’m sorry, Vic,” said Carver quietly. “I hope Anders will be alright. He insisted on continuing.”

“Talk to me later, I’m more concerned with Anders right now.” Vic said before following in the wake of people making way for the very tall and unhappy elven warrior. 

Hal and two of the battlemages were waiting by their tent; several others were setting up their tents nearby. Hal pulled the door flap open as Fenris approached, holding it open so the elf could carry his husband inside.

“We’ve brought lyrium, tonics, stamina potions,” said Hal. “The other mages are setting up around your tent - we’ll keep the templars away.” 

Anders opened his eyes and stared up at Fenris listlessly. Blood had ceased to drip from his nose but he was too quiet for Fenris’ liking.

“Hey, I’m going to lay you down so that you can get looked at, then everyone is going to leave us alone.” Fenris said as he sat next to Anders and kept his hand locked with his husbands. 

“Don’... don’ kill Carver,” Anders slurred quietly. “Kick Cullen’s arse though....”

One of the mages giggled; glancing up, Fenris realised it was the girl Anders had saved from drowning in the Elfsblood. Hal gestured to her and she passed him two vials of lyrium which Hal fed to Anders slowly.

“I’ll kill both of them for this.” Fenris snarled as he watched Hal work. 

“Don’t kill my brother, he’s all I’ve got and he’s your brother in-law love.” Vic said from where he watched them. 

Zevran had seated himself near Anders’ feet and was watching silently. His eyes were on Anders’ face as the mage gave a faint smile; Zevran’s face remained grim however, and his fingers toyed restlessly with one of his daggers.

Hal insisted on Anders drinking a further vial of lyrium and two stamina potions as he carefully checked Anders over thoroughly before finally he was satisfied that the mage had taken no lasting harm from his experience. He gestured to the other mages to leave and cast Fenris one last glance before he followed them out.

“That was all deeply unpleasant,” Anders murmured quietly. “Can I sleep now? I would really like to just sleep.”

Fenris glared at Hal half heartedly but turned when he heard Anders. “Yes, go to sleep love we’ll be here for you.” 

Invictus left them to seek out his brother and have words with the younger Hawke. He found Carver in discussion with his four most senior templars and several of the Chargers’ officers, all of whom it seemed were quite disturbed by the morning’s display and quite anxious for reassurance there wouldn’t be a repeat. Carver was staring challengingly at Cullen and Meneris who were both returning his look grimly.

“I can assure you all that this morning was a highly unusual occurrence, and I will strenuously object myself to _any_ mage in this camp being subjected to such an ordeal, I can assure you,” Carver responded. “I trust however that any further nonsense or rumours of the like which we were greeted by will be squelched by you?”

“Certainly by me,” said Dalish from where she stood beside Krem, glaring at the officers.

“When you are done Knight-Commander, I’d like a word.” Invictus said as he stared his brother down.

“You will not fight in this camp Hawke, either of you. I told you one more damned thing and you were out.” Meneris said.

“I just watched Anders damn near get killed by his templars in the name of stopping these stupid rumors that others should know better than keep going. I will have words with my sibling Meneris.” Vic said coldly. 

“I’ll remind you that that little demonstration was necessary because _you_ failed to keep your people in line, Meneris - and that I am here under the Divine’s orders, not yours,” said Carver coldly, every inch the Knight Commander. “It is my duty to render assistance and protection to any and all mages, be they Circle, College or independent - and that includes testing them at their request to prove they are not possessed. That demonstration continued at Anders’ request because he had no confidence that you could keep him safe when he’s there to keep _your_ people alive.” He turned his back on Meneris and Cullen. “Knight Lieutenant Harlan, kindly escort the gentlemen out. My brother and I have matters to discuss.”

“We will speak later Knight-Commander.” Meneris said before departing. 

Carver and Invictus were finally alone. 

Invictus fixed his brother with a hard stare. “I want answers, Carver,” he said with a cold steel intensity. “And I want them now. Start talking.”

 

***

Zevran emerged from the tent into the afternoon sun and blinked tiredly before rubbing his eyes slowly. A whirring of wings distracted him; looking up, he saw a white crow - and by the gold ring about its leg he knew it came from Skyhold.

With a growing feeling of disquiet he watched as it soared in a lazy spiral before heading straight towards him instead of locating the Chargers’ bird handler. As it swooped towards him, he lifted his arm in readiness. “ _Si atterra_!” he called, and obediently the crow came straight to him.

He recognised her instantly. She was the lost crow belonging to the Divine that had been so enamoured of Hal that she had continually returned to Skyhold. Hal had left her behind, in the care of the Skyhold bird master - a gentle man from the mages’ college. Yet she hadn’t made for Hal, instead coming straight to Zevran.

He took the little message scroll and the crow, freed of her missive, hopped up onto his shoulder as he unfurled it and swiftly read it.

Then reread it, disbelievingly, before pushing his way back into the tent again.

Fenris looked up from where he sat next to a sleeping Anders; as he took in Zevran’s expression, he rose to his feet with a look of concern.

“Ellowynne is missing,” said Zevran in a low voice. “Parcival believes she has left Skyhold; he does not know where, or how long she has been missing. It took six hours to scour the whole of the fortress before they discovered the dracolisk missing from the stables.”

“ _Venhedis_ ,” Fenris swore softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be another delay in updating since Cypher is currently away for PAX Dev and PAX West this week. So enjoy another extra-long update in the meantime!


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reconciliation, and Fenris has to re-evaluate his feelings towards Arden.

“What in the Void were you thinking?” Invictus bit out, his voice low and angry. “You, of all people, should know of his weak heart! Even one Smite would be dangerous - yet _five?_ Carver, have you completely lost your senses? You could have killed him!”

Carver shifted slightly, settling on his feet, a sense of alert readiness about him - undaunted, facing Invictus as an equal. “You and I both know Anders is powerful enough to withstand more than one Smite,” he replied calmly. “Couldn't you feel the amount of power he put into counteracting each one? They staggered him - but he was ready for them, letting them burn off the mana he pushed into his countermagic without affecting his core power. It wasn’t until he was accidentally hit by two at once that he was finally struck down - and it only proceeded to the fifth Smite because _he_ insisted. You saw for yourself, Vic - my templars didn’t want to continue. I've had strenuous complaints from my people since -” 

He broke off as a young woman with long dark hair in a single braid down her back entered. She walked towards him, a messenger tablet in her hand. Invictus stared; instead of robes, she wore armour similar to that which Grey Warden mages wore - save that instead of grey and blue, the tabard was white with silverite scalemail, with a quilted red cropped jacket. The wide leather belt that bore the Chantry sunburst was also red; her pants and boots were black. The staff slung at her back was of black ironwood; the blade at the foot bore resemblance to a sword blade, and it was topped with a silverite figure of Andraste. This woman was evidently a battlemage - and one in the service of the Chantry. Invictus didn’t think he’d ever seen one before - he had no idea the Chantry even employed battlemages in their templar units. The changes enacted by Anders and Leliana evidently extended far farther than simply the existence of the Colleges. 

“Yes, Rowan?” said Carver, his tone softer than he'd used towards Invictus. “I gave word that I was not to be disturbed.”

“Forgive me, Ser,” she replied, glancing towards Invictus, mild curiosity in her gentle grey eyes before she turned her attention back to Carver. “You wished to be informed when the scouts returned from their patrol. They are being debriefed by Knight Lieutenant Sarka at present. They encountered strong demonic activity to the north of the Abyss, about half a mile from the fortress. No losses, three walking wounded.” She handed her report to Carver as she spoke; Carver immediately began to leaf through it. 

“They’re being seen by the healers?” he stated. 

“Yes, Ser,” Rowan replied. 

Invictus stared at her. Something about her was unnervingly familiar; he had a horrible feeling of deja vue. She might have been Bethany’s younger sister. Solona’s younger sister. 

“Your name,” he blurted out. “What is your full name?”

Startled, Rowan glanced back at him, then looked to Carver with an uncertain look. Carver glanced up from the report, his eyes flicking from Rowan to Invictus before he gave the young woman an almost imperceptible nod. 

“Captain Rowan Amell, ser,” she answered as she turned back to Invictus. “Formerly of Montsimmard Circle, currently seconded to Knight Commander Hawke’s detachment.”

“Rowan’s been with us for over a year now, Vic,” added Carver absently, his attention on his report. “Along with nine other battlemages; they’ve been an invaluable addition to our templar units - we’ve had a lot of trouble with random small pockets of red templar and Venatori resistance. There’s much to be said for having frontline healers fighting right alongside warriors.”

“But - she’s our -” began Invictus.

“Our cousin?”Carver finished for him, glancing up at Invictus finally. “Yes, she and I are both well aware of that. Revka Amell had five children, all mages; Solona was the eldest. Rowan here is the youngest. Her brother Amhurst is back in Val Royeaux where he is in the personal service of Divine Victoria. Sadly their brother Daunton and other sister Eliara both died in the annulment of their respective Circles during the Mage/Templar War.”

“No other mage will ever have reason to fear such a thing happening ever again,” added Rowan, a look of remembered pain yet also fierce determination in her eyes. “Not since the reforms brought in by Grand Enchanter Anders, the Divine Victoria, and Knight Commander Hawke.”

Carver nodded in answer to her comment and at Invictus’ expression. “It’s true. I’ve been enacting a few reforms of my own, Brother, amongst the templars. The old Order, as it was, has been disbanded and a new Order has taken its place. My templars are not addicted to lyrium; King Alistair and Cullen proved that the lyrium is not necessary for the abilities. Templars work alongside mages as equal partners, just as they do in the Grey Wardens - in fact, much of our new systems in place now were taken from or inspired by the Wardens.” 

“I thought the armour looked familiar,” murmured Invictus, then shook himself with a scowl. “All this has nothing to do with what your people did to Anders, though - or excuse it!” he growled.

“On the contrary,” replied Carver. “Have you actually walked through the camp and listened to what people are saying? There’s a lot of unrest now; I think many people still took for granted the old way of doing things until they saw them actually happening right in front of their eyes like that. The scuttlebutt against Anders has stopped and instead there’s a lot of sympathy and respect for how he withstood so many Smites with such fortitude - and a lot of anger that this was how a mage was treated. And it has reinforced the feeling amongst my templars that our new way is the right way - that mages are our allies, are _our_ people - and that what happened this morning can not be allowed to happen to any other mage.”

“Anders is not your pet demonstration mage!” bellowed Invictus, furious.

“No, he’s not,” nodded Carver, unmoved. “But he agreed to be the victim of a demonstration. Remember that, Invictus - it was his choice to go through with this, and it was his choice to make.” 

“Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know that, brother,” Invictus replied quietly as he glared at his sibling. “You saw first hand what it did to us to lose him, how do you think any of us felt - especially me to see him going through that? He died in my arms once already, I thought he...I thought he was going to ...and there’d be no miracle this time, Carver,” Vic finished before he looked away and tried to gather himself.

“Vic... I was the one who laid him out in the chapel with my own hands,” answered Carver softly. “And I was the one who found him still breathing. When you gave his body into my keeping, I swore to you that I would look after him. And when I found him still alive later, after you’d gone through the eluvian with Zevran and the others, I kept my promise - I looked after him, kept him safe.” He glanced at Rowan, who was regarding Invictus with a serious expression.

“Ser, Anders was being monitored by our people at all times during the testing,” she said. “Knight Commander Hawke had made us aware of his health issues; the testing would not have been allowed to proceed if we had felt his life was being endangered. We made it clear that we would not tolerate the life of a fellow mage being pointlessly endangered merely to prove a point, ser.”

Carver grinned mirthlessly. “Captain Amell here was the most strenuous objector amongst them, Vic,” he added. The smile disappeared. “Vic... no-one knows more just how much Anders’ revival was a miracle than me. I laid a dead body out in the chapel and returned to a living, breathing one. I’m well aware things like that only happen for a reason - and then only once.” 

“Do you?” Vic asked tiredly before he glanced away. “Doesn’t matter, hopefully people can be satisfied he’s not a monster or an abomination now and we can just get to Adamant and get it all over with.” He gave his brother and cousin a smile that didn’t quite get to his eyes. “Thanks, I know in my head you’re right Carver but my heart hurts for now.” 

Carver nodded. “I understand,” he replied. “It looks like we won’t be moving in on Adamant as soon as Meneris was hoping for, in any case.” He gestured to one of the reports Rowan still held. “Looks like the Venatori have been making use of the fortress whilst the Inquisition’s back was turned. The whole place is rife with demonic activity and unstable rifts, and what remains of the Venatori seem to be at the heart of it.”

“I hope we get going sooner than later, I just want this damned fight over and done. I’ll catch you later, I’m going to check on Anders and call it a day,” Vic said before stepping up and giving his brother a brief, hard hug. “Sorry for being an ass.” 

“You weren’t so bad,” shrugged Carver. “Meneris, though... well.” He slapped Invictus’ back. “Let me know how Anders is in the morning? From what my people tell me, he’ll likely sleep the rest of the day away after that.”

“I’m going to speak to our former Inquisitor before we take off about ...that. See you later.” Vic retreated to their tent to find Fenris sitting next to Anders quietly, his hand gently carding through their husband’s hair. Zevran sat the other side of Anders, holding Anders’ hand as he stared down at the mage’s sleeping face. He glanced up briefly at Invictus as the mage entered, before he dropped his gaze back to Anders’ face.

“He sleeps,” the Antivan said quietly. “He seems... peaceful.”

“Good, someone is at peace around here. How are you both doing?” Vic asked as he sat and tugged off his tunic. 

Fenris looked up then at Zevran with a grim expression. “I...feared the worst and I am struggling with my anger.”

Zevran shook his head slightly. “I had thought my anger gone, yet... I did not see how it had affected him until I turned and saw him lying there. And now I cannot get the image out of my mind - Anders lying there, so still. I... I am not certain how I will be able to sleep tonight, my love.”

“We can trade off, I am sure I won’t rest easy either,” Vic said quietly as he watched Fenris get to his feet. “Where are you off to?” he asked.

“I need to get out of this tent, I feel hemmed in. I’ll be back later,” replied the warrior elf as he headed for the flap. “I will... curb myself and take flight if I find my temper too great for being around others,” he added.

Zevran glanced up at Fenris, then nodded. “I will sit with him, _carissimi_ ,” he replied. He glanced back to Invictus. “A crow came earlier. It brought me a most disquieting message. Fenris knows; you should, too.” He held out a small slip of paper. “The Imp is missing. Her father does not yet know.”

“What?!” Invictus asked as he took the paper and read it. “He will go ballistic and if those smites didn’t end him, this news will! We have to find her before he’s any wiser.” Invictus stared at the Antivan elf, distressed over what he’d learned. 

Zevran shrugged helplessly. “We are weeks away from Skyhold, my love, and it took several days for the bird to find us. She is one girl - and she is with the dracolisk. They in Skyhold are better placed to be able to find her than we are. Believe me, this news distresses me greatly and I wish that we might immediately leave to go find her - but they will likely find her before we can.” He gazed down at Anders bleakly. “We must say nothing. Perhaps once this matter of demons at Adamant is over, we will have news and all will be well.”

“I will say nothing, as I cannot hold myself together and if I do speak it will be the undoing of what little of my patience is left. I’ll be back later, loves,” Fenris said before heading out among the tents, no aim in mind, just eager to stretch his legs and get some air.

“I thought he was going to start slaying templars left and right after those Smites were laid on Anders,” Vic said as he took the elf’s place. 

“I could only guess from how he was responding,” replied Zevran with a low sigh. “I did not dare turn to look; it was all I could do to help you keep him from rushing headlong to attack them.”

“I would have helped him, to be honest,” Vic admitted. “I’m so damned tired Zevran, I just want to get this all over with,” the mage said before laying down and cuddling Anders. 

“It is as well that I had my back to them then, for if I had seen for myself then I think I would have shed blood amongst the templars.” Zevran’s expression had darkened. “And I swear that the next templar to lift a hand towards _mi cuore_ will lose it.”

“I think we’ll join you in that oath. Come and lie with us if you can, I would feel better knowing you’re nearby,” Vic said as he reached over to his husband. “Please?”

Zevran bowed his head for a moment, then nodded wordlessly as he stretched out to lie down next to Anders’ sleeping form and slipped his hand into Invictus’ hand.

**

Fenris hadn’t watched where he was wandering; he simply meandered between tents, sure to keep out of anyone’s way as he tried to find a quiet spot to sit. Soon he found a small clearing near the far tents that was quiet but still close enough if he was needed. 

He thought at first he was alone there; he’d been pacing there silently for some time before he heard some faint sound that had him looking around with a faint frown. Then the sound came again, and as he turned his eyes fell upon a figure sitting a short distance away from the nearest tents. As he stared, the figure shifted slightly where they sat on a large boulder, staring out across the sands and rocky wasteland, and he heard them give another soft, shivering gasp.

The warrior approached quietly, unsure if the person wanted to be disturbed until he got close enough to realize it was Hal who was making those noises. Fenris just stood there, unsure if he wanted to flee or if he had it in him to speak. 

Hal was hugging himself as he stared out at the bleak wasteland. He seemed oblivious to Fenris’ presence as he shivered slightly.

“I can’t do this,” he said quietly to himself. “I’m sorry Anders.. Mythal. I know I said - but - I _can’t_....”

“Can’t do what?” Fenris asked, sure Hal would cuss him and leave but he felt compelled to speak rather than stand quiet behind the other man. 

Hal shot to his feet and turned, eyes wide and startled as he took a step back away from the elf. He swallowed hard. “Die,” he blurted out suddenly. “I’m - I’m not ready for this, I’m - I can’t - I thought I _could_ but -”

“You’re young, and you’ve already died before so I’m not surprised,” Fenris said as he lowered his gaze and waited for Hal to do or say something else. 

Hal stared at him, then glanced down at the ground. “It’s... you’ve no idea what it’s like,” he said, his voice shaking. “The emptiness. I... I remember what it was like - dying, I mean. The first time. It - that first time? It hurt, and - and it was bad enough the first time, even though I didn’t know what to expect but this time, I _do_ and I’m _afraid_ , Fenris. I don’t think I can do this! And when I’m _there_ , near the arulin’holm, it seems different - I feel calmer then, not so scared. But now, here? I’m afraid. I don’t want to die.”

Fenris glanced at him then away. “You’re right, I have no idea and I doubt any of us do. I’m sure you can find a way to come through and survive, seems you always do; though I doubt that’s helpful of me to say. I have no advice, unfortunately.” 

Hal dropped back down to sit upon the rock with a low groan. “I don’t think there’s any coming back from this,” he said quietly, a note of bleak despair in his voice. “I don’t think there’s any room in Mythal’s plan - if there ever was. I’m the weapon. I’m meant to be used, to destroy Nightmare. I don’t think anyone asks tools how they feel about it before they’re used, or asks them if they’d like to come back. I think maybe the first time, it was the two Merrills that allowed me to come back; they sacrificed themselves, and maybe that paid the price on my behalf. The second time, it was Endrin. But there won’t be a third time.”

The tall elf didn’t know what to say to that, everything that came to him was a flat reassurance that would mean little. “I have nothing of comfort to tell you, I just hope you are wrong and that Mythal has a better plan than you think they do,” Fenris said quietly, uncomfortable with the conversation but resolved to stay. 

Hal drew a deep breath as he closed his eyes; Fenris could see the young man was struggling to master himself. “I’m sorry,” he said shakily. “This is probably the last place you want to be right now and I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, apart from maybe Arden.”

“I admit this isn’t what I’d hoped for, no, but...you’re not alright. We loved each other once, and despite how much I want to run away; I’m not going, not yet. This...this hurts but not as bad as it did that night you let me go,” Fenris admitted with a hitch in his voice. 

Hal swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about that,” he replied. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For once I was actually choosing for myself instead of reacting to what others chose to do. I felt so certain I was doing the right thing - maybe not at first, but after Invictus and I spoke... but I’ve been trying to work out if I only made things worse for everyone ever since.”

“After you and Invictus spoke?” Fenris asked in surprise. “You mean, it wasn’t Arden who convinced you to end things?” he asked in a low voice. 

“Arden?” echoed Hal dully, then shook his head. “No. Arden was worried I was making the wrong choice and urged me to think it over for longer. No, Invictus pointed out to me that I was always waiting for others to decide things for me and that maybe it was time I chose for myself. I’m just not sure I made the right choice. Or for the right reasons.”

“It was Invictus,” Fenris repeated as he looked up at Hal, his eyes wet as he tried to control himself. “I...I ...need, I …” he stammered, unsure what to do with that bit of information from his former lover. 

“I was a bit of a mess,” Hal shrugged, then laughed ruefully. “I suppose I still am. He told me that instead of waiting, maybe I should decide my own fate. All I succeeded in doing was proving to myself how little say I really have in what happens - except in how miserable I make myself and everyone else.”

Fenris heard him but he wasn’t able to reply. All he had running in his head was how it had been Invictus, not Arden as he’d thought and how some of the hate he harbored for the other mage was unearned. He simply stared at the redhead, struggling for words. 

“I don’t understand,” Hal was saying as he rubbed his forehead slowly. “I feel so much more afraid now, and yet so much more clear-headed than I did whilst in my own tent. The further I get from the camp, the clearer I can think and yet the more afraid I become.”

“I don’t know either,” Fenris said as he tried to keep calm and not let the haze of anger he felt coming over him take over. He just stared at Hal as if he was truly seeing him for the first time in a long time. 

Hal glanced up at Fenris. “I’m so sorry, Fenris,” he said softly. “I still care about you. You were so distant from me - ever since that night of the attack, it’s like a part of you just shut off from me completely. Even after you and Callus came after me - it never came back. I’ve been mourning it - mourning _us_ , and what we’d had. I couldn’t live in limbo any more - not knowing what we would face at Adamant.” He lowered his gaze. “You must hate me so much,” he added in a whisper.

Fenris continued to stare at the young mage, unable to reply as he felt tears falling. He just looked at him, wanting to beg him to take him back but knowing it wouldn’t be right. “I don’t know how I feel right now,” he finally admitted. 

Hal glanced up slowly, as though fearful of what he might see in Fenris’ eyes; as he saw the tears running down the elf’s face, he seemed to choke himself, and Fenris heard the redhead’s breathing stutter as all the air seemed to be sucked from the young man’s lungs, stricken by the effect his words had had on the elf. He lifted one hand towards Fenris, his hand shaking.

Fenris shook his head sadly and stepped back. “We can’t go back to the way it was, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed all of you, and hurt you. I wish I’d spoken sooner but now I’ve done this, and nearly lost all of you, so this is my doing and I have to accept it. Go ...go to Arden, and leave me be, please?” he asked quietly. 

At Fenris’ words, Hal managed to gasp a faint denial before he dropped his face into his hands and began to sob silently, shoulders heaving with each laboured breath. “Maker - Fenris -” he somehow managed to choke before he slid slowly to his knees, unable to get anything more out.

“I can’t do anything for you, I’m not ...I’m not angry, I’m just, I’m hurting. Please just, I don’t hate you,” Fenris rasped before turning away and slumping against a tree, wishing the redhead would leave him to mourn. 

“I’m scared,” whispered Hal. “I - F-Fenris, I - I need you, I l- _love_ you -” His voice cracked. “Please! I’m begging you - _please!_ ”

“I can’t help you; go to Arden,” Fenris said tiredly before he turned and looked at the younger mage. “You don’t need me, just...know I don’t hate you but I can’t do this Hal. I’m not, I’ve never been good for you and it's time I admitted that to myself and to you,” he finished.

Hal slumped, dejected, then bowed his head. “As you wish,” he said in a tone of hopeless resignation. “I...” He bit his lip and closed his eyes. “Have you no comfort for me before I die?” he whispered.

“What comfort would you have from me then?” Fenris asked dully. 

Hal lifted his head and reached a trembling hand towards Fenris in entreaty again. “Hold me? One last time?” he begged in a small voice that shook.

The elf stared at him for a moment then beckoned Hal to him. He knew he was going to be a mess once their embrace ended but he couldn’t deny the other man; not with how he looked. 

Hal rose to his feet and stumbled towards Fenris, his eyes glimmering with tears as he drew closer then halted before the elf, staring up into Fenris’ eyes. Then he fell into Fenris’ arms, clinging to him as he buried his face against the elf’s broad chest, sobbing desperately.

“Hal? Fenris?” 

As Fenris glanced around, he saw Arden standing a little way away from them, a look of worry and yet somehow relief on his face. “Maker - I’ve been searching all over for you, Hal,” he breathed as he stepped closer then halted as he took in how Hal clung to the warrior, sobbing bitterly, each gasping breath muffled against Fenris’ chest. Then he glanced up at Fenris, a look of sad understanding in his eyes.

“Would you like me to leave you both in peace?” he asked Fenris gently. “I think right now... he needs this - _you_ \- more than he does me.”

The elf lowered his head and considered the question, even as he held Hal close to him, hating how he responded as before wanting to keep the slighter man safe, and near to him. How he’d missed the feel of Hal in his arms. He blinked more tears away as he looked to Arden and shook his head no. 

“Forgive me someday, Hal,” he whispered in the red head’s ear as they stood there, neither willing to let go.

“How can I?” breathed the young mage brokenly in reply. “I- Fenris, I’m going to _die_. Don’t you understand?” He lifted his head to gaze up at Fenris, misery and fear in his eyes. “This time... this time, there’ll be no coming back, and I’m so afraid... please. Let me have this. Let me have one last time with you - let me at least have this before I die!”

Arden gave a small noise of distress at Hal’s words, then glanced to Fenris. “Help him,” he begged softly. “Give him what I cannot. Please - I can’t do this for him. I can’t save him. Please - I just want him to be happy, Fenris. I know you hate me, but - but I would give anything to see him at peace. You don’t know what it’s like, seeing him almost entranced by the arulin’holm - it’s almost like he’s Tranquil when he’s near it, but you’ve seen what he’s like away from it. And... and I’m not enough. I never could be. But....” He closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. “But you can be.”

Fenris stared into Hal’s eyes for a while then looked at Arden briefly before returning his gaze to the young man before him. “I...this isn’t…” he faltered, unsure what to say to the young man’s request, especially since sex was the last thing on his mind after exposing his heart. “I don’t know I can, that I am in the mood for...that, not after this talk.”

“Just let him be near you again,” said Arden, his voice catching slightly. “Like - like this. You - please - let him lie with you, be with you until we go into Adamant. I - I’ll keep the arulin’holm safe and away from him if - if you can do this for him, be the rock that - that I can’t.” He took a step towards them, then another. “Fenris... I’ve already decided. I won’t leave the Fade when he’s gone. I’ll die there with him. But until we go in... please, give him this time of peace before we meet our end.”

The warrior elf didn’t know what to say to that; he found words were more difficult than usual for him. All he’d wanted was a walk to clear his head, but got an emotionally rough time instead. He simply nodded and rested his head against the top of Hal’s, unable to stop his own tears. 

Arden drew closer and laid a hand gently on Hal’s shoulder as the redhead wept, then lightly stroked the dishevelled red hair before looking up at Fenris. “Thank you,” he whispered softly. “I know you’ll take good care of him.”

The elf didn’t look at Arden, he couldn’t yet. Instead he held Hal and wept. He finally pulled back and wiped at his face, sure he looked a wreck. “Give me a moment, please,” Fenris asked before drawing away and gesturing for Arden to follow him. Hal nodded and turned to sit on a nearby boulder, his gaze returning to the wastelands once more.

Fenris turned to Arden. “It seems I was mistaken and I owe you an apology. I thought it was you that told him to leave me, and was sure of it as I know the sun will rise. For that, I am sorry,” he said quietly then dropped his gaze to the ground.

Arden swallowed hard. “I can see why you would have thought that,” he replied after a moment. “I guess anyone would have thought the same. I tried to dissuade him - much though it hurt me, I didn’t want him to do it; it seemed to me he was destroying his own happiness as much as yours. I - thank you. I accept your apology. Believe me, Fenris - no matter how much all of this has hurt me, I - I don’t bear you ill will. Maybe I did for a while, but - but I can’t. Not anymore. I’ve only ever told you the truth, Fenris - my happiness means nothing. I just want Hal to have some measure of peace. Maker, I’d willingly die in his place if I could but - but Mythal gave the arulin’holm to him, not me.” He sighed softly. “And I’m sure you would love for me to die in there and have him return to you. But... Mythal has other plans, it seems.” He lowered his head.

Arden’s last words made Fenris snarl at him. “I would not have you die again, if only for how miserable Hal was at your end. Do not ...I hate you for what you did to Zevran but do not act as if I’d take joy in anyone’s death that would cause another such pain. I’m not a good man by any measure, but that’s a step too far.” The elf relented as he turned away from Arden, his expression pained but he kept the vitriol that had risen to his tongue to himself since it wouldn’t help. “I don’t think he will die; I have a feeling and I hope you are both wrong,” were his parting words to the former Grand Enchanter. 

Arden lifted his head at Fenris’ words, a flash of anger in his eyes as he dashed away tears. “I want him to _live_ , Fenris. If it takes a sacrifice to bring him back - as it did twice before? Then let mine be the life to pay the price. I’ll ask no other to surrender theirs.” He glanced to Hal, who still sat upon his boulder some way away from them both, gazing out at the rocks and sand of the wasteland. “I pray you are right and we’re both wrong, Fenris. And if that be the case, then I’ll worry about what comes after when it comes. But for now? It would bring Hal peace to have this time with you. And I won’t stand in the way.” He walked slowly backwards from them both as his eyes went to the redhead. 

“Hal - I love you. I’ll wait for you,” he promised, before he turned away.

Fenris watched him go before turning back and holding his hand out to Hal. “We should talk with the others,” he said softly, unsure what would happen when he returned with the young mage in tow.

Hal took his hand willingly as he gazed up at Fenris then nodded. “Yes... you’re right.” He bit his lip. “Please don’t be too angry with Invictus. He was only trying to help me.”

“My heart hurts too much right now; I don’t want to add to it,” Fenris replied as he led them back to the tent, subdued as he let Hal enter first and followed. He felt a small flash of anger when he saw Invictus but realized there was no point in being angry and fighting; especially since he felt so fragile. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, unsure how the others would react to his return and with Hal along as well. 

Zevran lifted his head and peered over at Fenris then Hal before sitting up slowly. He still held Anders’ hand gently as the blond mage slept, oblivious. The Antivan’s eyes went back to the warrior before returning to stare at Hal who still held Fenris’ hand.

“ _Carissimi_ ,” he said slowly as he continued to stare at their linked hands. “Does this mean what I think it means? Have you two... reconciled?”

“I think so, yes. There are things to discuss, but I see Anders is still sound asleep.” Fenris’ voice was rough and his eyes red from tears as he gazed at the other elf.

“What do you need love?” Invictus asked as he sat up and stared at them, curious as to how they had come back to each other and why.

“A stiff drink and probably another cry, I’m a little fragile at the moment,” Fenris admitted as he felt Hal squeeze his fingers gently. 

Zevran glanced at Hal, then back to Fenris. “What does this mean for us, _carissimi_? Should we wake Anders?” He turned back to the sleeping mage, lifting Anders’ hand to softly kiss the pale fingers as he gently brushed the hair back from Anders’ forehead with his other hand. The blond mage stirred slightly, eyelids flickering as he made a faint questioning sound and turned his head towards the elf.

“I don’t know, I really don’t. I went for a walk to clear my head, and did not expect this. I … don’t know what comes next, Zevran,” Fenris admitted before he headed to his bedroll and sat down, looking lost and confused. 

Hal stood there, hesitant and looking equally lost. Zevran glanced to Invictus before regarding the redhead thoughtfully. Then he nodded to Hal and jerked his head in Fenris’ direction.

Hal’s eyes widened slightly in surprise; he opened his mouth as if to speak, and Zevran jerked his head again, his golden eyes intense as he lifted his eyebrows briefly in emphasis. Hal crossed to Fenris and sat next to the warrior, reaching for Fenris’ hand as Zevran watched him go. Then the Antivan turned his attention back to Anders, who was slowly opening his eyes and looking up at him and Invictus in confusion.

“I think we could all use a drink, do you have any brandy in your pack Zevran?” Vic asked as he glanced to the elven warrior and the young mage as they sat there, hands linked and silent. 

“Always, my love,” replied Zevran, not taking his eyes off Anders as he gently stroked the bewildered and sleep-fuddled mage’s brow.

“Zev? Vic? What - what’s going on?” murmured Anders drowsily as he glanced around. His eyes fell on Fenris and he gave him a dazed smile before he let his eyes drift to Hal and then their joined hands. He blinked, and then suddenly sat up as he stared at them both. “Fenris? Hal - you? Him? Are you - have you...?” A sudden hopeful look had lit up his eyes as he looked between them. 

“I think so, I’m... a bit lost right now,” Fenris admitted again, though he smiled when he felt Hal squeeze his hand again. He turned to the younger man and tried to give him a smile. 

“I think so, but I also think Fenris isn’t quite present considering he got more than he expected when he went for his walk,” Vic said before gathering up cups and giving them a splash of brandy each, with a cup for Fenris and Hal to share. “Sorry; a little short, but I don’t think you mind splitting your drink, eh?” 

Fenris shook his head no and passed the cup to Hal. The redhead accepted it with a shy smile before sipping cautiously, then passed it back again.

Anders regarded Invictus hopefully as the other mage handed a cup to Zevran, then gave Zevran an almost puppyish look before grinning as the Antivan nodded for Invictus to give a cup of brandy to Anders as well.

“Thanks, love,” Anders replied, then took a mouthful of brandy, savouring the burn as he swallowed. “Maker, but I need a drink after that Smiting.” 

“No templar will ever be permitted to raise hand to you again and live, _mi cuore_ ,” replied Zevran darkly. “Upon this Invictus and I are in agreement.”

“And I as well,” Fenris said quietly before taking a sip and giving Hal the cup. He felt out of sorts, unsure what had happened but he knew it was real, Hal was there, holding his hand. The headache he felt coming on from crying so much was definitely real. “I think I want to lie down,” he said quietly, unsure of himself for a change.

Zevran had pulled Anders gently to lean against his shoulder, the mage resting against him quite willingly with the elf’s arm around his waist as they both looked over at Hal and Fenris. “So,” said the elf quietly. “What does this mean for us all? What of Arden?”

“Arden has given his blessing,” said Hal softly.

“I don’t understand - I mean, I’m glad for you both, more than you can imagine, but... what happened?” Anders asked.

“And I must ask what has happened to cause Arden to be so... permissive?” added Zevran, glancing to Fenris. “He was certainly not so... _charitably_ disposed, when he broke my leg, no?”

“He said he just wants Hal to be happy, no matter what it takes. Apparently they have both been miserable since he let me go. Though it was not under Arden’s insistence as I’d thought - right, Invictus?” Fenris asked quietly; though he was hurting, he wasn’t angry at Vic, just sad that he hadn’t told him of his role in Hal’s decision making. 

“I encouraged him to make a choice for himself yes, but I didn’t tell him flat out to break up with you. I thought it might be better in the end because no one was happy. I hate seeing you so broken up, it brought me no joy, believe me,” Vic said. 

Anders frowned slightly as he glanced at Invictus. “Wait - when did you tell him -” he began.

“I believe it was as I was caring for you after you took your fall, my heart,” said Zevran as he lifted a hand to gently stroke the side of Anders’ face; the mage leaned his cheek into the touch without thinking, reacting to the physical affection. Hal smiled slightly as he watched them, then leaned in against Fenris and rested his head against the elf’s shoulder.

Zevran smiled slightly as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind Anders’ ear then pressed a gentle kiss to the mage’s head. “So. You wish to resume things between you both, and Arden is agreeable to this?”

“That’s what he said, and I actually believe him,” Fenris replied with a glance to the others. 

“Strange that he’s suddenly amenable to this after what he did but as long as you’re happy Fenris, I’ll abide it,” Vic said as he refilled their cups. “I’ll get us food, I dare say enjoying some of this fine drink without food will put us all in a bad mood whenever we do strike camp and have to ride again.”

“You both have my blessing,” said Anders gently. He glanced up at Zevran. “Love?”

Zevran regarded them both thoughtfully, and Fenris suddenly found himself holding his breath before the Antivan slowly nodded. “You have mine also.” He glanced to Hal and fixed him with a keen stare. “But I do not wish to find myself upon the receiving end of Arden’s ire again. What you may have with Fenris is for the two of you alone, yes?”

Hal nodded. “Yes. I - this is enough. If... if you will allow -”

“I have said you have my blessing, yes?” said Zevran, his tone slightly sharper. “You may have each other, and you may stay in our tent if Arden is also amenable to this.”

“Love?” said Anders, looking up at Zevran with a touch of worry. The Antivan pressed a kiss to Anders’ forehead.

“Hush, _mi cuore_ ,” he replied softly. “Forgive my temper. I have been much worried - for you, and for us all. Invictus is right - we have none of us eaten, and my temper doubtless will improve with food. My mind has been uneasy.”

“Please don’t be angry, you scare me when you lose your temper,” Fenris said softly, his gaze on the ground as he tried to keep focused on the conversation. “Wake me when Vic gets back, my head and heart both ache.” 

Zevran closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a frown. “Mine also,” he confessed. “I have been sick with worry. Forgive me.”

Anders straightened. “Love? Let me help you? I’ll be alright - look, most of my mana has returned, see?” He held out a hand and with an effort, he was able to channel a little healing to glow blue, the light blossoming from his palm and fingers. Zevran opened his eyes and glanced at Anders’ hand, then up into the mage’s eyes before nodding with a relieved look. 

Anders smiled and pressed his hand gently to Zevran’s forehead as he let healing flow into the elf, easing the nagging ache he could sense pounding through the Antivan’s skull.

Hal turned to Fenris as he called up healing in his own hand. “Fenris?” he asked hesitantly. “May I...?”

“Go ahead,” Fenris replied as he closed his eyes and held still while Hal worked. The mage’s hand felt cool and soothing against Fenris’ forehead, the touch of his healing magic like a soft susurrus through his lyrium almost like the sound of running water, calming and relaxing. It felt different to Anders’ magic, as it always did; Anders’ healing felt like a blossoming warmth that spread through him, but Hal’s touch was as different as the two mages were in temperament and yet also somehow alike. 

As Hal lifted his hand away, Fenris could still feel a soft tingling in his lyrium. It was a pleasant sensation. The young mage was staring at the palm of his hand with a bemused expression.

“Thank you,” Fenris said quietly before glancing at Zevran and Anders. “I’m sorry, so sorry for all I have done to you. Forgive me,” he asked before looking down again.

Anders had lowered his hand and now it was Zevran who rested his head against the mage’s shoulder, Anders’ arms wrapped around the Antivan’s waist. Anders smiled gently.

“Always, love,” he replied quietly. “We should not fight before what faces us at Adamant.” He glanced to Hal, who had gone pale and lowered his head. A look of understanding dawned in Anders’ eyes. “Ah. Yes. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” he realised. “That’s why Arden agreed?”

Hal lifted his head and nodded. “Yes. We both know what awaits us - me - there. He’s holding the arulin’holm for me. I can’t think straight when I’m near it; I don’t feel afraid, but I don’t feel much of anything else either. I - I’m scared, here, away from it - but I’d rather be terrified than feel as though I were Tranquil again. And being with Fenris makes it bearable.”

Anders nodded. “We’ll all help, as much as we can. And... Arden? Who is helping him?”

“No-one,” said Hal bleakly. “Aeolus and Isabela are trying, but... they weren’t there, the first time. They don’t really understand.”

A look passed between Zevran and Anders, and then the mage nodded again, slowly. “When we’ve eaten, I’ll go talk with him,” he decided.

“Don’t go alone, please. I fear for you even after that display earlier,” Fenris said as he looked to his husband. He reluctantly let Hal’s hand go so he could stretch out and try to get his thoughts together. 

The redhead watched, as though somehow fearful that Fenris might disappear before his eyes; he glanced up at the others as he sipped slowly at the brandy, the strong spirits seeming to slowly calm him. Zevran caught his eye and gave him a reassuring smile.

Anders sipped his own brandy then stared down into the rich dark gold liquid as he pondered Fenris’ words. “I don’t think I’m likely to come to any harm, love, but I can understand your worry. I’ll wait until we’ve had food, and then maybe Vic will go with me.” He glanced to the Antivan. “I shan’t ask you to come with me, love,” he said gently.

Invictus returned with a page behind him carrying a small tray while he had a tray of his own and a bottle tucked under his arm. After the young woman had left them, he handed out bowls of stew and camp utensils before he settled near Fenris as he tried to get the elf to sit up.

“Come on love, get some food in you to help that headache,” Vic said as he nudged him and pointed to the bowl he’d set in front of the warrior’s face. Zevran was already tucking into his own stew, glaring pointedly at Anders until the mage grinned and began to eat as well; then the Antivan raised an eyebrow pointedly at Hal and stared at the redhead until he, too, had taken a bowl and begun to eat. Then, satisfied, Zevran turned his attention to his own food once more.

Anders was regarding Zevran over the rim of his bowl with a faintly amused look as he watched the former Crow browbeating the younger mage into eating without uttering a single word, much as he had just done to Anders himself. He glanced over to Invictus and Fenris.

Fenris reluctantly sat up and ate, avoiding looking at anyone until his bowl was empty and he’d taken another sip of brandy. He glanced at Invictus, curious if his husband would give him a glare as well.

“Love, do you need anything else? I’m worried at how you look,” Vic asked instead.

“I’m ...I don’t know what I need, Vic. Still a bit out of it and fragile, I hope a nap helps,” Fenris replied before curling up on his bedroll while facing the others and letting his eyes close. 

Hal finished his stew and set the empty bowl down then he glanced up at Invictus before stretching out a hand to lightly card his fingers through Fenris’ soft white hair, as though afraid he might be told to stop.

“It’s fine Hal, I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Vic said as he finished off his own food and looked to the others.

“Do you need anything else, Anders, Zevran? Or can we just take it easy for a change?” Invictus asked quietly.

Anders set down his own emptied bowl as he reached for his cup to finish off the brandy. “Would you mind walking me back through the tents to check on Arden, love? I’m just concerned that with having let Hal and Fenris have this time together, he’s on his own and - well, I’m a little worried for him. And Fenris isn’t too happy at the idea of me going on my own, even after this morning.” 

“Of course; do you wish to come with us, Zevran, or would you rather not be around him?” Vic asked quietly. 

Zevran had lowered his gaze to the empty bowl in his hands; slowly he laid it aside and ran a hand through his hair. “I will come if Anders wishes,” he finally replied.

“Zev, I can’t ask that of you,” replied Anders, looking concerned. Zevran lifted his head and stared at him.

“Do you wish me at your side, _mi cuore_? I promised you that where you go, I would go also, yes?”

“Yes,” Anders nodded. “But I also know you hold no love for Arden - and I’ll be safe with Vic.”

Zevran held his gaze, then got to his feet. “I will go with you as far as his tent,” he stated as he held a hand out to help Anders up. “I will not look upon him, but I and Invictus will see that no harm comes to you.”

“I would feel better with you there to be honest, I do not know I can hold myself back if he angers me - but I will do so for our love’s sake,” Vic said as he took Anders’ hand in his. “Besides, I think they could use some time to talk without us present.” he said with a nod to where Fenris and Hal were curled up together.

Anders glanced down at them and couldn’t restrain a small smile. “I think you may be right,” he agreed.

They emerged from the tent to find Captain Rowan Amell waiting outside. She nodded to Invictus before turning to Anders and saluting him. “Senior Enchanter Anders - or do you prefer Senior Warden? Knight Commander Hawke has assigned me as your escort and assistant. Captain Rowan Amell, Chantry Battlemage at your service, ser.”

Anders blinked, taking in the unfamiliar armour before the significance of her name suddenly hit him. “Amell?” He turned to Invictus. “Vic?”

“Yes, we’re related. No, I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Vic said grumpily. “Come on then, you can tag along though we are more than capable of keeping our husband safe, Ser Amell.” he added bitterly.

Anders turned back to her. “Just Anders will do,” he said, slightly bemused. “I ceased to be a warden when I... ah... died. And I haven’t been a senior enchanter for quite some time. I’m just... me. Anders.”

“As you wish, ser,” she nodded. “How may I serve?”

“I don’t really need anything right now... Captain, was it?” As she nodded, he went on. “Yes, well, Vic’s right - I have the Champion of Kirkwall and the Master of the Crows at my side. I don’t think I really need any other escort, though as Vic says, you’re welcome to tag along. Did Carver think I need keeping an eye on, then?”

“No, ser,” she replied. “Think of me as being a walking message that you have the protection of the Knight Commander as well, and that the former Inquisitor would do well to remember just which side he’s supposed to be on.” She smiled mirthlessly.

“Where are you from, Amell?” asked Anders suddenly.

“Montsimmard, ser,” she replied. “I studied under Vivienne de Fer before she joined the Inquisition, Maker rest her soul.”

Anders nodded slowly. “I see. Alright, Amell, you can come with us - but drop the ser.”

She inclined her head. “As you wish... Anders.”

She dropped in behind them as Anders set out, leading the way through the tents in search of Arden.

Invictus found the other mage’s tent finally after a couple of missed turns and a near run off into a field instead of deeper into the sea of canvas dotting their camp. He tapped at the closed door flap, unsure if he was there. “Arden?”

“Who is it?” The voice was muffled and sounded strained.

“Arden, it’s Anders - may we come in?” called Anders, exchanging a look with Invictus. There was silence for a moment before they heard the sound of someone moving around inside the tent, the soft clink of a bottle, before Arden replied.

“If you wish.”

As Anders ducked under the flap and entered the tent, Arden looked up at him from where he sat on his bedroll, kicking aside a couple of empty potion bottles and moving a half-full wine bottle to one side. “Who’s we -” he began then fell silent as Invictus and then, after a moment’s hesitation, Zevran entered behind Anders. He caught sight of someone in unfamiliar armour in Chantry colours just outside the tent as the flap closed; he turned back to stare at the three men then he pushed himself back away from them, unaware he’d even moved until his back hit the tent pole in the middle of the tent and he halted, staring at them.

“I haven’t done anything,” he whispered, his eyes going to Zevran. “I swear it.”

“We know, Arden,” said Anders gently. “It’s alright. You’re not in any trouble.”

Arden stared at him for a moment, then glanced at Invictus. He swallowed hard. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“We are not here to hurt you Arden, we wanted to check on you after speaking with Hal and Fenris,” Vic replied. 

“I - I _said_ I’m fine with it, it’s alright - I gave my blessings to them!” Arden said hurriedly, holding his hands up as though to ward off any attack. “I’ll not get in their way, I swear it!”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Anders said gently. “Fenris is being there for Hal right now - we understand that. I know Hal must be terribly frightened of what he will face at Adamant, and I can only admire your courage in letting him go to Fenris. But Invictus and I were there when Hal died that first time, back in Kirkwall - and I think we have some idea what it must be doing to you now to be facing the prospect of losing Hal again like that, and I wanted to see if there is anything we can do to help you.”

“I’d give my life gladly if Mythal would take it instead of his,” said Arden bleakly. “But... but he wouldn’t speak to me. It’s Hal he came for, and... and he’s going to take him from me, as surely as if he were killing him directly himself. There’s nothing of my Anders in there anymore. I can’t save him. I can’t save Hal. I couldn’t save my own Fenris. All I can do is.... is give Hal the one thing I could to make him happy.” He slid down the pole to sit on the floor as he tried to choke back a sob. “Why Hal? Why does it have to be Hal again?” he gasped. “Why couldn’t it have been me? It _should_ have been me - Hal doesn’t deserve this! He’s too young!”

“You did die and he was miserable enough to mess with time magic to change that, so clearly he loves you; and your death wouldn’t make him happy. I happen to think you’re both wrong and borrowing trouble before we get there but that’s me,” Vic said as he glanced to Anders for help. 

“Arden... you’re right that Hal doesn’t deserve this,” said Anders gently as he lowered himself to sit on the floor. “But I don’t think you do either.”

Arden stared at him, shaking slightly, and then hunched in upon himself with a gasping sob.

“Anders, perhaps you’re best suited to talk to him for now. I’ll go and talk to Carver for a while or Dorian.” 

Zevran glanced to Invictus then lowered himself stiffly to sit upon the floor slightly behind Anders. “I will stay - if I do not make Arden too uncomfortable,” said the Antivan.

Anders had moved closer to Arden to rest a hand upon the other man’s shoulder; he glanced back at Invictus. “Alright, love,” he nodded. “I’ll be here if you need me.” He glanced back to Arden. “I’m not your Anders, but I’m here and I’m listening, Arden,” he said gently.

“Send a runner for me if you need me alright? Ser Amell will be right outside if you need her. Love you,” Vic said with a light kiss to Anders then Zevran’s lips before heading out to find Carver. Anders merely nodded. 

As the tent flap swung closed behind him, Invictus’ last view of Anders was as the blond mage leaned forward, his hand still on Arden’s shoulder as the other mage turned towards him. Then the heavy canvas hid them from view.

He nodded to Rowan, then headed off in search of his brother.


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle plans for Adamant are drawn up, Hal reveals what part Mythal has planned for him - and Meneris is called out on his attitude.

Fenris was curled up with Hal, silent as he tried to sleep but found it difficult to drift off. He opened his eyes to see Hal staring at him, hand stilled as he realized the elf was watching him. 

“You’re here, I thought it might have been a dream...again,” the warrior said softly as he reached up to trace Hal’s features softly. 

Hal closed his eyes and leaned into the touch as he drew a shuddering breath. “If this is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up,” he whispered. “I wish....” His voice trailed off as he opened his eyes again to gaze at Fenris.

“You wish what?” Fenris asked quietly.

“I wish we could have this moment forever,” breathed Hal. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Fenris. It - it _hurt_.” He blinked and found his eyes were stinging with threatened tears.

“I thought you hated me, that ...I’d fucked up things past where we could fix it. It hurt me so, so much, Hal,” Fenris said as he stared at the red-head. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

Hal lifted a hand to cup Fenris’ cheek as a single tear rolled slowly down his face. “As am I,” he confessed quietly. “More than I can ever say. I never wanted to hurt you. And I’m torn so terribly now - I love Arden as well, and I feel as though my heart will be ripped in two between you - but I don’t want to leave you.” He turned his face away and swallowed down the sob that he could feel tight in his throat.

“You made it clear that you wouldn’t choose, and I won’t ask you to anyway. We got together when we all thought he was dead, and carried on assuming he knew. You were together before you knew this version of Thedas existed, or saw me as more than an imitation of the Fenris you lost. I wouldn’t dare ask you to choose, I just hope you’re wrong and we’ll all walk away from Adamant,” Fenris replied, rubbing at the younger man’s cheek. “I failed all of you, and I’m trying to get better before I push everyone away like I fear. I’m... grateful, and lucky you spoke to me instead of leaving earlier.”

Hal turned back to Fenris and gazed up at him. “How could I not?” he replied. “I... I think perhaps Mythal heard me and decided to grant me my one prayer. But - Fenris, I _know_ I can’t come back from Adamant. There’s - there’s no chance; Mythal made that clear to me. The only way I can face Nightmare is as a dragon - and for that, my physical body has to die. That’s... what the arulin’holm is for.” He stared at Fenris sorrowfully. “I’m not Anders; I can’t shapeshift. Believe me, I’ve tried.” He blinked away more tears and tried to smile at the elf. “You have no idea how much I envied you every time you changed into a dragon.”

“If I could trade, I would in a heartbeat. Don’t envy me for that, it's caused more pain that not sometimes,” Fenris admitted to Hal. He sighed and sat up. “Just...let me hope that you’re wrong?” 

Hal shifted to lie on his back and stared up at Fenris. “I hope that too,” he said bleakly. “I’m not ready to die. Fenris, I’m only twenty-five. This... this _can’t_ be all there is for me. I want to _live_.”

“I know Hal, I know,” Fenris said tiredly. “I don’t know what else to say, but I have a feeling you’ll make it, just let me have that, and maybe you can take it with you?” 

Hal sat up slowly, and bowed his head for a moment, staring at the ground, before he nodded slightly. “I’ll try,” he finally said, lifting his head to return Fenris’ gaze. “Fenris, would you... do something for me?”

“I don’t like the sound of whatever it is, but ...go on,” the elf replied warily. 

“Would you... spread your wings?” asked Hal in a small voice. “I know you can’t really transform here in the camp, but... if I can’t fly with you one last time, then at least I could touch your wings?” He stared at Fenris pleadingly.

“Ok…” Fenris replied before tugging off his tunic and letting his wings unfurl. “I don’t understand, but there you go.” 

Hal straightened, a look of faint wonder in his eyes as he gazed upon Fenris’ wings, one hand lifting to touch the silver-lined white wings. As his fingers lightly brushed the warm, soft surface, some of the tension seemed to ease out of Hal’s body and he exhaled a soft sigh as his fingers slowly traced a line of lyrium.

“Oh,” he whispered. “So beautiful...” He gazed back at Fenris, a dreamy look in his mismatched eyes as he smiled. “I wish I could fly....” 

The elven warrior didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t come off as flippant so instead he let Hal touch to his heart's content, unsure what else he could do for the young mage. “Is there anything else you need?” Fenris asked finally.

Hal stared back at him, his eyes slightly glazed as he leaned closer. “Kiss me,” he breathed.

That made Fenris pause, as he wasn’t sure if he was in the mood or felt like kissing right then, and he wasn’t up for anything beyond that. He stared at the red-head, uncertain, like he’d been after their rescue from the Qunari. 

Hal stayed still for a moment, eyes half-lidded as he waited; but as Fenris made no move towards him, he drew back, blinking in confusion as he stared at Fenris before he turned his face away and seemed to hunch in on himself a little. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked for that.”

“It’s not you, I...I’m still really raw and not feeling like, I’m...fuck.” Fenris paused and gently turned Hal to face him. “I don’t think I can handle anything beyond kisses for now, is that ok?” the warrior asked. 

Hal had wrapped his arms around himself but remained staring at Fenris as he bit his lip and then slowly nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He drew a slow breath and closed his eyes. “Please -” His voice broke and he tried again. “F-Fenris - please.... hold me?” he managed to whisper, his voice choked.

Fenris pulled Hal into his arms and cradled him close, trying not to startle when he felt arms around his neck and soft kisses on his cheek, and a tentative peck on his lips. He turned and kissed Hal back, slowly and with more caution than usual. Hal whimpered softly, the sound almost swallowed up as they kissed; they finally parted slightly when they needed air, and Hal slowly opened his scarred eyes to look into Fenris’ eyes.

“I wish you could take me far away from here,” he murmured. “Far away from Adamant, from all of this. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be parted from you - never again. But....”

He tried to smile through the tears that had come to his eyes unbidden once more. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop crying,” he confessed with a sniff. “It’s just - I, I have no control over it. I’m sure I was never so emotional before they made me Tranquil but - raw, yes raw is how it feels for me too.” 

“Do you want to go away for a while? I can get away from camp and change. Though I don’t know where we could go and not have to worry about demons this close to Adamant,” Fenris asked. 

Hal drew in his breath sharply and sat up straight again, pulling away from Fenris slightly though his hands remained on Fenris’ shoulders. “Can we do that? We - we can fly together?”

“Yeah, I think if we get away from the camp and I take off it should be ok.” Fenris replied before pulling back and standing. Hal scrambled to his feet, an eager, hopeful look in his eyes.

“I want to fly again,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve missed that. Almost as much as I’ve missed you.”

“Unsure why ...no, let me not do that again,” Fenris muttered as he took Hal’s hand and headed for the outskirts of camp, ignoring the comments about his wings as they walked. Hal’s eyes were drawn to Arden’s tent as they passed and the tall, dark-haired woman in Chantry armour bearing a staff who stood before the entrance with a commanding air. For a moment he thought it was Solona, somehow returned from the dead - and then he realised this was a different woman, though the resemblance was uncanny. She kept her composure as Hal and Fenris drew level with her, though her amber eyes widened slightly at the sight of Fenris’ wings.

Hal wondered what she was doing there, but Fenris didn’t pause so Hal had to keep pace.

They finally found a spot where Fenris could fully change and take wing, much to his relief after the whispers he’d caught along their way out of camp. He shifted, then knelt so Hal could climb up and hold tight. Hal stepped up onto Fenris’ foreleg then swung himself up to sit astride the dragon’s neck between two neck ridges with the ease of long familiarity, his legs gripping firmly enough to keep his seat yet light enough to not impede the dragon’s breathing. Fenris could sense Hal’s confidence, so markedly different from when the redhead rode horses. Almost as if he had been born to this; to riding a dragon.

As Fenris launched himself into the air, Hal couldn’t constrain the delighted laugh that burst from him; the exhilaration as the wind whipped and tugged at his hair, cold against his cheeks. The chill as they rose higher bit through his tunic and shirt but he didn’t care; it was a welcome relief after the heat of the desert wastelands.

As Fenris’ outstretched wings caught a strong thermal and they rose aloft, Hal could see the ancient fortress of Adamant, distant to their north. He felt a chill as he saw a dark shape shift upon one of the towers, and suddenly he realised he was staring at another dragon.

He swallowed hard as Fenris banked and glided, catching one thermal after another in big, lazy loops through the air; he tried to enjoy the ride even as he couldn’t help but note the unmistakable signs of Venatori occupying the fortress - and that unsettling view of the dragon, coiled about a tower. As Fenris shifted and swooped into a lazy roll, Hal lost sight of the dragon. He closed his eyes, determined to put the unsettling view out of mind as he focused on the here and now, the shift of Fenris’ muscles beneath him as the white dragon flexed silver-lined wings and soared with the wind.

Fenris noted the other dragon but steered away to keep its notice off them. If he’d been alone, he might have challenged it but he wouldn’t risk Hal in that way. He flew in a lazy circle, checking out the landscape as they went, irritated at the Venatori that Hal had spotted but he forced himself to keep their journey free of combat. Instead he found a pattern to take until he was ready to go back. 

As they glided back towards the camp, Hal opened his eyes. He felt regret that the flight would soon be over all too quickly, but despite the worrying sight of the Venatori and the dragon he felt more at peace within himself. He was glad Fenris had kept clear of the Venatori however; whilst the dragon could breathe fire and had terrible claws to bring to bear in a fight, the most Hal could have done was perhaps throw up a shield and maybe get off the odd spirit bolt or two. Combat had always terrified him.

Fenris landed, and Hal remained seated for a moment longer, stroking the warm, smooth dragonhide of Fenris’ graceful neck before he slowly dismounted. He moved towards Fenris’ head, and he hugged the dragon before drawing back far enough to gaze into Fenris’ emerald green eyes, allowing himself to lose himself in the dragon’s gaze.

Fenris turned aside so he could shift back to himself and make Hal come back to him. He didn’t want to enthrall him and make anyone think he’d carried the young mage off to do nefarious things with him. He gently shook the other man to get him to focus instead of drifting off. 

Hal blinked slowly as he came back to himself, his eyes gradually focusing on the warrior. “Fenris?” he murmured drowsily. “Why did you wake me? Let me dream....” His eyes were drifting half closed again. Fenris gave him another shake, a little harder this time, and Hal’s eyes snapped open as he gave a little cry of protest then shook his head slightly, staring around in bewilderment. “What - where am I?”

“You ...frighten me with this desire to go away. Please stay with me, you asked to spend time with me, and I would rather you be present, Hal,” Fenris said as he tugged the slighter man to his arms. Hal leaned into his embrace, resting his head on Fenris’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I... lost myself for a moment there. So tempting to drift in dreams.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Fenris’ neck. “Forgive me. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you.” He bit his lip, then reluctantly added, “We... should tell Meneris what we saw. You saw the dragon, the Venatori, too? We’ve seen more than any of the scouts could have seen. Meneris and Cullen need to know.” He shivered slightly. “I only hope Cullen is in possession of his senses.”

“If he’s not, I’ll help him remember,” Fenris promised as he took Hal’s hand and headed to camp, straight for the other elf’s tent. He entered and found Meneris in conversation with Dorian, and Cullen. 

“You do know how to ask to enter a place, don’t you, Fenris?” Meneris asked testily.

“Not when it’s urgent, Pavus-Lavellan,” the warrior quipped in return. “Figured you’d want to hear about the Venatori we’ve spotted and news that a very large dragon is waiting on top of Adamant like last time.” 

Hal darted Cullen a slightly nervous glance before turning his attention back to Meneris and nodding. “I saw it. Adamant is occupied by Venatori; I saw red templars on the battlements too - and a dragon curled about one of the towers, just like the first time. From what I could see, they’ve repaired the breach we created to enter last time.” He looked slightly apologetic. “We didn’t go too close for fear of attracting the attention of the dragon.”

“If I’d been alone I might have ventured closer, but I didn’t want to risk a fight with Hal not having a staff or anything. Regardless, I wanted to report in so we can know what awaits us and not be surprised as we get closer to the fortress,” Fenris said as he glanced at his _amicus_ , catching the once over he had gotten before Dorian added his thoughts. 

Dorian’s eyes roved up Fenris’ shirtless torso, then he hid a brief smile behind his hand as he realised Fenris had caught his gaze. He straightened and cleared his throat, expression becoming serious again as he lowered his hand. “It is true that airborne, you would be able to see far more than our scouts - and Hal makes an excellent second pair of eyes. In fact we should have thought of this first; never mind, at least we are aware now.” He glanced to Cullen.

The former templar was eyeing Hal with a frown, but he turned his attention back to Dorian. “There cannot be that many red templars or Venatori left. It’s likely this is the seat of what little power they have left. Wipe them out here, and we put an end to the Venatori threat for once and all, Inquis- forgive me, Meneris,” he hastily corrected himself. He glanced back to Hal. “Would you say they numbered less than a hundred?”

“It was hard to be certain, but yes - no more than a hundred, I think,” Hal nodded. 

“Still, it will be a hard fight - the Venatori will outnumber our mages,” Cullen pondered. “Meneris, with your leave I think I should go request Knight Commander Hawke join us. He brought some of his Chantry battlemages with his templars.”

“Pretty sure they had planned on joining us but go and confirm they will fight with us, Cullen,” Meneris replied while watching Fenris and Hal carefully.

“Oh, we can count on him, Meneris,” Cullen replied diffidently. “But we have several different forces here; Krem’s Chargers, our Nevarran cavalry, the Skyhold mages and the Chantry forces. I think with this new intelligence from Hal, it’s time to plan our strategy of attack.” He nodded to Meneris and Dorian, then Hal and Fenris. “Gentlemen.” He turned and strode swiftly from the tent.

“So, now we have our little council of war, hmm?” said Dorian. He glanced at Hal. “I must say, I never took you for the scout type, Hal.” He winked.

“Not really my forte,” Hal confessed. “I don’t do offensive magic - I’m a healer; the best I can do in a fight is barrier and shield spells, the odd Haste here and there - and healing to keep everyone on their feet. Not really a lot of help when scouting.”

Fenris folded his arms and stared at the other men as they awaited Cullen’s return with Carver. “You know he’s not a scout, _amicus_ \- just ask why we were flying around.” 

“My guess is that since you two are together, and you’re not a crying mess, you’ve worked out your problems for now. Or am I off the mark?” Meneris asked with a pointed look at the other elf. 

Fenris restrained himself from lashing out, barely. Instead he kept staring at Meneris as if he could will the elf to not be an ass towards him. Beside him, Hal was staring fixedly at the floor, his cheeks flushed red as he bit his lip.

“That was uncalled for,” he managed tersely, not looking up. Dorian blinked at the redhead, then glanced to Meneris.

“ _Amatus_ ,” he murmured softly. “There’s no reason to humiliate them, hmm? We wouldn’t have known about the dragon if they hadn’t reconciled.”

“I’m going to the tent to find a tunic; I’ll be back shortly, if my opinions are welcomed. If not I’ll send Invictus since he’s more of a mind for strategy.” Fenris glared at Meneris, and gave him a cold smile before turning. “Mind yourself Pavus-Lavellan, or I might be tempted to remind you of how you were when we trained so you could fight again. I don’t know why you have become so cruel, but you will not do this to Hal or to me again. We’ll be back shortly,” he added before taking Hal’s hand and heading for the flap. 

“Bring both yourself and Invictus, _amicus_ ,” called Dorian. “We shall need you both - Invictus for his knowledge of battlemagic strategy, and both you and Hal have first-hand knowledge of the Venatori forces; Krem and Carver will both need to know!” 

Hal darted a glance back over his shoulder to Dorian and merely nodded to him as he hurried at Fenris’ side, not sparing Meneris a glance.

Meneris watched them go, and turned to Dorian with a slightly apologetic look. “ _Vhenan_... I....” 

“Really, Meneris, I don’t know what’s gotten into you of late - really I don’t,” said Dorian tersely as he crossed to the small camp table and poured himself a glass of wine. “Was any of that really called for? I know you’ve grown short of patience for Fenris, but Hal has done nothing to deserve your woeful lack of manners!”

“Dorian, they have caused us no shortage of problems! I know he’s your _amicus_ , and you still like to have an occasional romp with him but you know damned well they’ve been a issue since we met them all. All of that up and down over their, whatever they are doing and now they’re back together? I wasn’t even talking to Hal!” Meneris said as he looked away from his husband, annoyed over being called on his hostility. 

“Whatever goes on between Fenris and I is entirely beside the point and has nothing to do with this!” snapped Dorian. “Have you forgotten that Hal is supposed to be our weapon against Nightmare? Or what destroying that eluvian in Skyhold did to him? Meneris, you _do_ realise there’s a very real chance that whatever Hal does to help destroy Nightmare will very likely kill the poor boy? You should be bloody well glad that they’ve reconciled, for Hal’s sake if nothing else - he deserves a little happiness before he dies for all our sakes!” He downed his glass of wine then poured himself another glass. “I’m disappointed in you, _amatus_. I had thought better of you,” he added bitterly. 

“What? I am responsible for people’s safety here. We’re all going into a fight where we may well die or be hurt. Last time this damn near killed Anders and separated us for who knows how long. I’m supposed to just ignore what your _amicus_ has done while we’re here? How all the Hawkes have been trouble?” Meneris replied testily as he started to pace around the tent. 

“Damn it, Meneris!” said Dorian as he hurled his half-full glass of wine to the floor. The glass shattered, red wine splashing across the floor as Meneris turned and stared, startled by the uncharacteristic display of anger from the magister. “I am bloody well aware of what happened last time - and that is _precisely_ why there is no room here for your pettiness! There was no need for you to talk of their relationship - no reason to mention it at all, save to get a little dig in, to humiliate Fenris - and of _course_ that would embarrass Hal as well; he’s not bloody deaf! They may have been trouble, but right now we need them - _all_ of them, no matter how you may feel about them, Meneris! This is the time to be setting that aside and concentrating on what we have to face, not - not - petty _point scoring!_ ”

Dorian glared at his husband for a moment before he turned on his heel and drew a slow, deep breath, fighting to bring himself back under control again.

Meneris looked down, shamed by how angry he’d made Dorian by letting his own pettiness get the better of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Dorian was silent for a moment, one hand slowly curling into a fist before Dorian deliberately relaxed it. “So am I,” he replied in a low voice that was far too calm.

“No, you’re right to be angry with me. I’ve been an ass since before we set out; I’m sorry, love,” Meneris said softly, sure that he had pushed Dorian too far. 

Dorian inhaled slowly as he lifted his head and focused on calming himself before turning back towards Meneris. “What’s going on, _amatus_?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Why so - so irritable and aggressive? You’re right; this started before we ever left Skyhold but it only seems to have gotten worse. And now here we are, fighting over it. Why, Meneris? I don’t understand.”

Meneris glanced away, sure he’d make Dorian angrier if he was honest. He finally looked up and tried to give him a smile. “I gave up being Inquisitor to not have to do these things, to not have to fight like this anymore. But it feels like we’re right back where we left off when we came here last time. It’s already hard being so close; and Mythal, it irritates me to no end to see them always on the brink of destroying each other. Its not just how it affects the rest of the camp and us, but it's so stupid that they can’t be happy. If they were Dalish this wouldn’t even be a thing to fight about. So much wasted potential, and just... why can’t they….” He trailed off at the incredulous look that Dorian was giving him. “What?” 

“Is that what all that was about? Because they _irritate_ you? Because they can’t get it as right as the Dalish? Dumat, Meneris, that has to be one of the most arrogant things I’ve ever heard you say! Fenris isn’t even Dalish - is that what this is about? Are you holding Fenris and by extension the rest of them to some standard they’re not even aware of?” Dorian blinked. “Meneris, this isn’t a thing for irritation - but _sorrow_ , that people we consider friends are so unhappy! At least, _I_ consider them to be friends. Anders has been rather devastated by it all, Zevran seems to be caught in the middle - much as Hal is - and Invictus seems to be the one keeping them all together. But you seem to act as though Fenris has been deliberately engineering all this unhappiness! I don’t know how it’s managed to escape your attention, _amatus_ , but there was that little matter of demons and possession going on - you remember, the fear demon that so efficiently wrecked our room? To say nothing of the rage demon that nearly killed Zevran. _Amatus_ , what Dalish tribe ever had to contend with such things?” He shook his head slowly. 

“I’m not arrogant, I just…” Meneris fell silent at the look he was getting. “No, you’re right. I expected a lot of them and it's not fair. Neither Fenris or Zevran are Dalish but that way is all I know. It's all I ever knew Dorian. Mythal and Creators I’ve been an ass haven’t I?” he asked as he stopped pacing near the other man and looked up at him. 

“Yes,” nodded Dorian. “Quite frankly you have. It’s been quite unpleasant to witness, _amatus_ , and it should not have had to take my losing my temper and wasting perfectly good wine to make you finally see that.” He sighed, then held a hand out towards Meneris. “I still love you, even when you’re being an ass, _amatus_. Just... try not to be one quite so much?” His smile was sad and rueful.

“I’ll try, do you think they’d take an apology from me?” Meneris asked quietly. 

“Certainly it would be a start,” replied Dorian quietly. 

“I’m sorry my heart, I...I’ve been mean to Fenris since we first met him. I’m surprised he hasn’t backhanded me to be honest. I’ll offer and hope he accepts it. No matter what, I hope you two can remain close, I don’t want to ruin that since it was so hard fought,” Meneris said as he hugged Dorian to him. 

“It was likely due to your position - besides, you’ve slapped him yourself once, and I dare say he was none too keen on a repeat,” shrugged Dorian as he held Meneris close. “I should imagine he held his tongue to protect Anders as much as anything else. Invictus was the Champion, Zevran the Master of the Crows - but Anders had no title to protect him save, perhaps, ‘Butcher of Kirkwall’ - and after Cullen had slapped Anders into a cell, I should think Fenris was intent on making sure it didn’t happen again. I think you’ll find that my _amicus_ has swallowed more insults than you might guess at, simply to protect Anders and Hal. Which is why he was so angry, I think - not for his own sake, just now, but because you humiliated Hal. I must say, I was impressed that Hal called you out on that, by the way.”

“He’s grown a lot with all he’s been through,” Meneris said quietly before pulling away from his beloved. “Let’s get through this meeting and if they will hear me, I’ll apologize. I’m sorry, again.” 

The tent flap was opened at that moment, and Cullen ducked through then held it open to stare quizzically at someone outside as his wife, Krem and Carver entered. The reason for Cullen’s look was soon made clear, as Fenris entered after Carver, holding Hal’s hand. Invictus was just behind them - as was Zevran, unexpectedly, who fixed Meneris with a decidedly unfriendly stare as he entered and took up a position a little behind and to one side of Invictus.

“So you want to talk strategy then Meneris?” Vic asked without preamble, eager to be done as soon as he’d arrived.

“Yes, Pavus-Lavellan, what is the plan here?” Fenris asked as he gave the other elf an unfriendly glare of his own. 

Cullen and Carver had gone to the corner to carry over the large map table; they set it down in the middle of the tent, and Cullen spread out a map of the Western Approach and Adamant. The others moved forward to gather around the table; Zevran followed, still keeping his position a little behind and to the right of Invictus, his eyes on Meneris still.

“Our scouts have patrolled as far as here and here,” said Carver, his finger indicating an area to the west and immediately south of the fortress.

“I’ve had scouts up around this area - a lot of demon activity,” added Krem as he gestured to an area of wasteland to the east of the fortress. “Haven’t been able to get any of my people any further north than that - too many demons. Not sure where they’re all coming from.”

Hal leaned forward, his slender fingers tracing the lines of the fortress. “There are red templars guarding the battlements here, and here. Venatori patrol amongst them - we weren’t aloft in position long enough to get an idea of their patrols. The dragon was on this tower.” He gestured to one of the towers to the north-east of the main keep.

“I don’t know if it’s a demon like last time or if its just a dragon they’ve enthralled in their service. Either way, I can attack it and hopefully take it out with help of the Lancers before rejoining the fight on the ground. This time I don’t plan on being knocked out of the sky, and I have better control now than when we had the last battle. Unless, Invictus or Cullen have a better strategy for what I can do,” Fenris said as he tapped the spot where they’d spotted the other dragon. 

“It’s a sound plan to me, but I am worried about you facing off against that thing with the Venatori giving it ground support. Perhaps take them out from the air first, and we’ll support you; then go after the dragon?” Vic suggested as he looked to Cullen for his thoughts. 

Hal drew a deep breath. He had gone pale, but had a resigned yet determined look to his eye as he unconsciously straightened his shoulders and looked up at Meneris. “Fenris will not be attacking the dragon alone,” he stated, his voice steady. “This is what Mythal prepared me for. Get me as close to the walls as you can, and Fenris and I will meet the dragon together.” He glanced to the map. “And then... Nightmare. I can open the way for you.”

“That’s good, I think it's a solid plan. What do you say Cullen and Dorian? Zevran do you have any thoughts on how we should attack?” Meneris asked the others. 

“We need a way to open a breach in the wall,” said Cullen. “We weren’t anticipating another siege; we have no siege engines with us, and no wood nearby to build them.”

“You won’t need siege engines, Cullen,” replied Dorian, his eyes on Hal. “You’ll have two dragons on your side.”

“You... have a point there,” nodded Cullen slowly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright. We’ll have dragons, we’ll have a breach in the wall. Krem, the moment that breach opens I’ll need your Chargers to set up a decoy charge.” He glanced to Carver. “I’ll need your templars to counteract the Venatori magic.” He glanced to Invictus then Dorian. “We’ll need all the mages to hold shields - first over Krem’s Chargers, and then over our Nevarran heavy cavalry and the templars as we mount an offensive charge through the breach. Once inside, we take down the red templars and Venatori hard and fast. Our numbers are roughly equal, but we’ll have two dragons on our side and I’m sure that between them they’ll take down this Venatori dragon and at least one of you should be able to fly a pass over the battlements and breathe flame to clear them?” He glanced to Fenris and Hal.

“Remember that I have battlemages with my unit as well, Cullen,” pointed out Carver. “They’re crack frontline troops, just as much as my templars. We’ll take the fight to the battlements and clear them out up there then lay covering fire from above whilst your knights and Krem’s Chargers mop up along with Invictus’ battlemages.”

“And then presumably, this mystery dragon dealt with, Hal then opens - what, a rift of some sort? Is that how you’ll do it?” asked Dorian.

“In a manner of speaking,” nodded Hal. “And then we take the fight directly to Nightmare.” He stared down at the map. “I should warn you... once I have taken the form of a dragon... I don’t think I shall be able to change back. It’s very likely that I... may not be coming back with you.” He stared fixedly at the map. “The rift will need to be closed once Nightmare is defeated, you see.”

“Yes..we know, dammit to the Void,” Vic said quietly, while Fenris remained silent and stared at the map. Zevran reached out and silently rested a hand on Fenris’ shoulder, squeezing it lightly as he glanced at the other elf but said nothing.

“I knew what I was taking on when I took the arulin’holm,” said Hal quietly. “I shan’t shirk my duty.”

“No, you never have,” said Dorian quietly, a sympathetic look in his eye as he regarded the young mage. “And what of Mythal? Will he join this fight?”

Hal swallowed hard, then nodded. “He will. But he needs me to open the way.” He glanced up. “There may be others also there - from other worlds, Mythal said. We will not be fighting Nightmare alone. Nightmare threatens all. We may all see other versions of ourselves in the rift. Do not be alarmed by them. They are our allies as much as we are theirs. And expect demons - a _lot_ of demons. The Venatori will call them up - once we breach the outer ramparts they will likely grow desperate.”

“My people know how to deal with demons - and with blood mages,” said Carver grimly. “I have ten battlemages with me, and it was a condition of their service that they all be adept at dispelling blood magic and destroying demons. My templars are all experienced as well - and all of them free from lyrium addiction.” He smiled grimly. “Including myself. That should lessen the risks of the red lyrium.”

Invictus eyed his brother in surprise; that his brother had freed himself from his lyrium addiction as Cullen had was one little piece of information he hadn’t been party to. Carver caught his glance; Invictus mouthed to him _when?_ Carver caught his meaning instantly. _Later,_ he mouthed back before turning his attention back to the map and the discussion at hand.

“Seems that we’re settled then. How long till we get to the fortress?” Fenris asked as he held Hal’s hand tight in his and continued to stare at the map.

“No more than a week if we leave in the next couple of days. I’m not... knowing what awaits us has cooled my desire to rush forward,” Meneris admitted. 

“Hal and my _carissimi_ have brought you much intelligence that you could not have gained any other way, no?” said Zevran quietly. His golden gaze was sharp and piercing as he stared coolly at Meneris.

“Yes, and I thank them for it, Zevran,” Meneris said as he caught the way the Antivan elf looked at him. “I think we’re done here, but Fenris and Hal, if you’d stay I... I wish to speak to you please.” 

“I hope that’s to apologize Meneris, and not to continue to lash out at them,” Vic said. 

“I, too, hope this,” Zevran said, his voice cold. “Meneris has much to apologise for, I think.” He stared at Meneris, then muttered something harsh and gutteral in Antivan. To his surprise, Fenris couldn’t follow more than maybe one word in ten; it was a dialect he’d never heard before - but what little he understood was filthy and vile.

“I think that’s our cue to retire,” said Cullen; Cassandra nodded, as Krem cleared his throat self-consciously and Carver turned and gave Zevran a wary look before nodding and retreating with them, leaving Meneris and Dorian alone with the three Hawkes and Hal. 

“I’ll be in our tent love, take however much time you need,” Vic said before leaving the three elves, Hal and Dorian alone. 

Once Invictus was gone, Fenris finally looked to Meneris and glared at him. “So, get on with it - in Trade, since my Dalish is limited to a few phrases I shouldn’t utter in mixed company.” 

“And I fear my own is little better,” added Zevran, with a smile that was devoid of warmth. “Hal, I believe, speaks it not at all. You must forgive us poor, _inferior_ non-Dalish.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Dorian cleared his throat. “I think perhaps it would not be appropriate for me to be a party to this discussion,” he said, slightly nervous.

“He didn’t care you were there when he humiliated me again, let him have witness to his own shame,” Fenris said.

Dorian looked as though he were about to argue but Zevran took a casual step to one side - slightly closer to the magister - and drew a dagger from his belt and began cleaning his nails with the tip, arching an eyebrow at the Tevinter mage. Dorian closed his mouth and dropped his gaze to the map, staring hard at it as though he could somehow will himself away if he simply thought hard enough about it.

Fenris turned to Meneris and made a _get on with it_ gesture.

“So..I’m guessing you all heard part of my argument with Dorian, if Zevran’s animosity is anything to go by?” the elf said quietly. 

“Oh, yes, we heard,” replied Zevran, still cleaning his nails with the point of his blade, punctuating his statement with another muttered phrase of gutter Antivan.

“I’m sorry, as you heard Dorian say I was being arrogant, and malicious. All I can offer in explanation is that it's the way I grew up and I... was being an ass towards all of you. I especially owe Fenris an apology as I’ve been cruel to him from our first meeting,” Meneris said as he watched Zevran toy with the dagger.

“Arrogant, you say?” replied Zevran in a slow drawl. “Yes. Such a shame we cannot all be as enlightened as your oh so noble Dalish, hmm? We lowly city elves must seem so uncouth to your lofty gaze. Ah, our barbaric notions of love - why cannot we all be like the Dalish?” He looked up from his dagger to fix Meneris with a savage smile before letting rip with a flood of gutter Antivan that, though none of them could follow it - even Fenris getting only the bare gist of it - was obviously from the vitriol with which Zevran spat it something vile and crude. The little that Fenris could follow seemed to be a string of curses upon Meneris’ lineage right back to Arlathan, and he had no doubt that the rest must be far worse.

Zevran finished by hurling the dagger down into the table a hair’s breadth away from Meneris’ finger. “I give _that_ for your Dalish ways and sensibilities!” he spat then whirled around to place his back to Meneris and folded his arms, his eyes flashing dangerously with anger.

Fenris reached over to Zevran, upset for him more than himself since he knew the other elf’s feelings and past regarding the Dalish. He turned to Meneris, his own gaze dark as he stared down the shorter warrior.

“If I’d realized the disdain you had for me was because I’m not Dalish, I would have encouraged Vic to leave after we’d gotten Anders back and forgotten we met you Meneris. Spare me the contempt for your poor city cousins who refuse to hold on to tattered ways - manufactured by a charlatan that you had in your inner circle. Be glad that Zevran has... tempered me, in a way, or else I’d have your heart in my hand before you knew it,” Fenris said in that flat voice he shifted to when his anger was too much for shouting or swearing. 

Hal had straightened as Fenris spoke and slipped his hands into his sleeves, watching Meneris silently. Now he smiled innocently at Meneris.

“What, no insult for me, Meneris?” he asked gently. “I feel so left out. After all, I’m only a - what’s the word? Oh yes.” He smiled a little wider, still with that innocent look in his eyes. “Shem. That’s what you call my kind, isn’t it? Lower than even your city cousins.”

Dorian had jerked back from the table as Zevran’s dagger had struck so close to Meneris’ hand; now he stared at Hal, eyes widening slightly, composure quite destroyed.

The former Inquisitor swallowed and looked down in shame. “No Hal, I have not called you a shem. I... was being cruel to Fenris earlier, and did not think of how it would affect you. All I can do is offer an apology and hope I can one day make up my trespasses to all of you,” he said quietly, not moving from where Zevran’s dagger landed too close to his flesh and blood hand for his liking. 

The smile had disappeared from Hal’s face to show his hurt. “When you speak of Fenris’ relationships, you speak also of me. Did you think you could speak so disparagingly and dismissively of me like that and not hurt me? After all I’ve done for the Inquisition - in _your_ service? And yet, even that doesn’t hurt as much as the way you used it to put Fenris down in front of me - in front of Dorian, and Cullen!” He blinked, his eyes glimmering slightly. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m an arrogant Dalish who was raised to not see other elves in a good way. Because I have never been a friend to Fenris, even when he called me _amicus_. I’m sorry Hal, Zevran and Fenris. I let my anger get the better of me, my feelings even as I gave you a hard time for what has been difficult, and made worse for my own reactions. I give you an apology from my heart, and I hope you can accept it someday,” Meneris said brokenly. 

Hal stared at him. “Zevran was crippled in your service. He has risked his life over, and over, and over for you in ways you cannot even begin to fathom,” he said softly. “His mother was Dalish - did you know? Ah,” he went on, as Meneris’ eyes widened. “You didn’t? It’s true. They wouldn’t let her return to her clan. You can understand, perhaps, why Zevran would thus rate Dalish sensibilities perhaps only slightly above Ferelden mud. And perhaps now you might truly understand how deeply you have insulted and hurt him.” He glanced to Zevran, who bowed his head slightly, one hand curling into a fist.

Hal returned his gaze to Meneris. “And Fenris became a dragon for you. He underwent the testing in the Temple of Mythal - for _you_. You saw from the effects upon Anders the sheer pain he experienced, I believe? I was not there, but Zevran described it to me after you all returned to Skyhold. You know what he has gone through since - how he is viewed by the rest of your people. Yet not once has he held it against you - what he endured in your service. When we finally confronted Corypheus, he threw himself willingly into that fight with no thought for himself. As a dragon he nearly died. Yet after all that - still you look down on him because he doesn’t conform to your idea of how an elf should act?” His voice held a tone of incredulousness as he slowly shook his head. “Meneris, no insult to me can ever equal that which you have done to both Zevran and Fenris. I don’t know if it’s escaped your attention - but this time, we are not here for you, or for the Inquisition which you once led. We are here because Nightmare is a threat equal to Corypheus, and because he must be stopped at all costs.” 

He leaned forward and suddenly, unexpectedly, slammed his hand down hard onto the table. “How _dare_ you use this as some excuse for petty point scoring!” he cried. “We go to Adamant the moment Anders is strong enough to march - and many of us will be going to our deaths. Mine may well be among them - you were there when I destroyed the eluvian, you _saw_ what happened! And yet you would sneer, that Fenris and I have reconciled and he was giving me this one thing to make me happy?” He was trembling now, his face white. “How _dare_ you.”

Fenris pulled Hal back to him, and continued to stare down the shorter elf as if he was making up his mind whether to kill him or not. Instead he held Hal and took Zevran’s hand in his before glancing to the Antivan elf. “I think we’re done here, unless you have anything else to say, _amatus_?” 

Zevran shook his head. “I am done, _carissimi_ ,” he said, his voice low and weary.

“Very well.” Fenris kissed him on the forehead before turning to glare at Meneris. 

“Think long and hard on how you’ve treated us, how we have bled, hurt and nearly died. If you can let go of your arrogance and thinking you’re better than us? Maybe I’ll talk to you off the battlefield. Remember for all that you think you’re better than us? It wasn’t _you_ that was chosen of Mythal, but me - a slave and a city elf that didn’t believe in Her or the Creators. Now we’re going, and we are not going to stay on the outskirts of camp like exiles after today. Be very, very careful Meneris, my patience with you is done.” Fenris turned and led both his husband and Hal out towards their tent, ignoring the looks they were getting. 

Hal and Zevran were both silent as they walked either side of Fenris; as they approached the tent, they saw Captain Rowan Amell on guard outside. She saluted as they drew nearer.

“Sers,” she greeted them. “Senior Enchanter Anders and Senior Enchanter Invictus are inside. Anders is resting; he pushed himself rather too hard this afternoon.” She grimaced slightly.

“Anders is quite stubborn,” replied Hal, his voice slightly distant and distracted. “Do I need to treat him?”

“Oh, it was simple exhaustion really,” she shrugged. “He revived with an Invigorate, enough to make it back to the tent. Bit of a nosebleed, but I couldn’t sense anything untoward - you may wish to examine him to be on the safe side however, Senior Healer Hal.”

Hal blinked at the title he hadn’t held since the disbanding of the Inquisition. “Ah... thank you...?”

“Captain Amell, ser,” she replied. “High Guard to Divine Victoria under Knight Commander Hawke.”

“Amell?” echoed Hal, startled; he glanced to Fenris, then turned back to her. “Thank you, Captain Amell.”

She stepped aside. “Let me know if you or Anders require anything. Knight Commander Hawke made it clear to me that my duties include whatever assistance I may give to any of you.”

“You can ask someone to send us food, then you are relieved for the evening, Captain,” Fenris said brusquely as he passed and went straight for his bedroll so he could lie down. 

“Very good, ser,” replied Amell as she saluted his back; she nodded to Hal and Zevran. 

Hal ducked under the tent flap to go and check on Anders, but Zevran paused to eye her. He glanced her up and down, aware she was doing the same to him covertly beneath her eyelashes. He put on a charming smile.

“Dear lady, if there is anywhere in this forsaken place where you might find a bottle of Antivan brandy, I would be most grateful and indebted to you,” he murmured softly, and was rewarded by a blush that stole slowly across her face.

“I shall certainly see if I can find something for you, ser,” she replied. He inclined his head graciously.

“Aggregio Pavali would also go a long way towards assuaging my tall companion’s temper,” he added in a whisper, tapping the side of his nose meaningfully as he gave her a wink.

“Aggregio Pavali? I think I may be able to lay my hand on a bottle of that, ser,” she answered, also in a whisper. “One of my squadron mates is from Tevinter - she likely either has a bottle or knows who might have one.”

“Ah, dear lady, you would have my gratitude indeed,” smiled Zevran as he took her hand and bowed low over it, his wince hidden as his hair fell forward. He lightly kissed the back of her hand and was rewarded by a very soft gasp. He straightened with a smile and watched until she had disappeared from sight before he let the smile drop and finally, wearily, limped inside.

He made his way over to the bedroll where Hal was leaning over a sleeping Anders. The redhead looked up as Zevran lowered himself painfully to sit next to his sleeping husband and glanced to Hal with a silent questioning look.

“He’s exhausted himself,” replied Hal. “He wasn’t fully recovered from the smiting this morning - he shouldn’t have been out of bed, really. He’ll take no lasting harm, but we should let him sleep until food arrives.” He turned to sit crosslegged in front of Zevran and eyed him sternly. “I saw you wince, and you limped as you came in. You’re going to let me heal you and you’re not going to argue.”

“So, there is a spine of steel beneath those soft robes, our Hal?” smiled Zevran. “It gladdens me to see it. First Meneris, and now me?” He chuckled. “I will not fight you, Hal. I am at your mercy.”

Fenris had rolled on his stomach and closed his eyes with a sigh. He felt even more wrung out than he’d been before seeing Meneris. He’d thought the other elf was his friend, a comrade in arms and it had thrown him to find he was just as bad as any Dalish he’d encountered in his travels after his escape. He buried his face in the flat camp pillow and fell silent as he listened to Hal and Zevran speaking quietly.

Invictus had sat up at their return but left them to their own devices after another chat with Carver and seeing how weary the others were. “Do any of you need anything?” he asked quietly.

Zevran glanced up at him, his expression becoming bleak. “Only your company, my love,” he answered. “And if Fenris does not have more pressing need of you, then I would much like to be held by you. It... was a difficult confrontation, and it has opened old wounds.” He lowered his head as he stared down at the palm of his hand.

Hal exclaimed in dismay as he stared at the bloody crescents the Antivan’s nails had carved into his hand as he had clenched his fist during Hal’s announcement of his parentage. He reached out his hand to lay his palm over that of Zevran, blue glowing mana suffusing their hands even as he continued to channel healing into the Antivan’s leg with his other hand.

Fenris opened his eyes and looked to his husband. “We can all cuddle together,” he offered.

“Whatever you wish Zevran, we’re here for you,” Vic said with worry at how lost the other elf looked. 

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Hal gently. Zevran shook his head.

“No, but thank you for asking,” he answered as he took back his hand and glanced at the healed skin. “I think only the touch of my husbands, food perhaps, and good Antivan brandy will ease what I feel, though your company is welcome.” He looked up. “I... should be angry with you for revealing so much about me. I have told few of that part of my past, and I would not have shared that with the likes of him - and it was not for Dorian’s ears. But it was well-meant, and I cannot be angry for you, no? You have a good heart, my friend.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hal. “I couldn’t stand by and say nothing after he’d hurt you like that.”

“He didn’t mean it, unlike that bastard of a tree-hugging elf,” Fenris said as he reached out and hoped Zevran would lie with him. 

“I’m glad I left, though it sounds as if the talk did not go well at all,” Vic said as he sat between his husbands and tried to touch both so they knew he was with them, Zevran a bit more than Fenris for how unhappy the blond elf seemed. 

Zevran’s face darkened, and he let rip a stream of invective in that gutter Antivan they’d heard him use earlier before he turned aside, away from them, and spat upon the floor. “I give _that_ for his Dalish sensibilities!”

“Come here love, I need to hold you please,” Fenris requested, worried for his husband’s mood. 

Zevran glanced down at where Hal was channelling healing into his leg. “I think that when I am able to move, I should like that very much, _carissimi_ ,” he replied.

“I’ll be done soon,” Hal assured them. “There’s a lot of inflammation here.” He made no mention of the adrenaline he could sense, steadily breaking down in the elf’s bloodstream; the comedown from that could not be helping Zevran’s mood any. He gently did what he could to mitigate its effects as far as he was able; he didn’t have Anders’ deft touch with such things. He guided little healing wisps to ease Zevran’s discomfort.

“I think I need it just as much as you do, _carissimi_ ,” Fenris admitted before taking Vic’s hand and squeezing gently. 

Zevran smiled. “I should be used to being treated like a gutter whore, yes? After all, that is where I came from.” He gave Hal a grin as the young mage looked up at him in dismay. “Oh, do not look so shocked, my young friend! It is true! I was a whore, and so it seems a whore I remain! Perhaps I should go offer myself around the camp once you have finished with my leg? After all, if that is all that Meneris expects of me, why should I disappoint him any further? It is obvious just where he considers my place to be, after all. Zevran Arainai should spread his legs for all who wish to fuck him, yes? The great Inquisitor has decreed it! I am not Dalish, and therefore I am dirt!”

Fenris sat up and snarled at his husband. “Do not disparage yourself like that! Stop it, please,” he asked, as he tried to keep from showing how Zevran’s words hurt to hear. “You are not a whore, dammit how many times do I have to say that before you’ll believe me?” 

“Easy love, easy. He’s worked up and your fangs are showing - just relax,” Vic said as he tried to push Fenris back down and calm him. “Zev, stop it... his opinion means less than nothing. Just stop it.” 

Zevran’s sharp inhale sounded almost like a sob. “It is where I came from. Where do you think I learned to speak such a crude dialect of my beautiful Antivan?” he whispered. “It is the language of the gutter. Of whores, beggars, thieves - the lowest of the low. People like _him_ turned my mother away; they are the reason why I was sold to the Crows when I was younger than Ellowynne was when Anders and I rescued her from the Circle at Ostwick. He considers me a whore, and his people condemned my mother as such. In his eyes I will only be the son of a whore, no matter how high I will rise. A cripple, a whore - less than nothing.” He bowed his head. “They say only what my heart tells me in the darkest hours of the night,” he added, squeezing his eyes tight shut. “Oh, my love, _carissimi_ \- please. I hurt. I hurt,” he pleaded.

Fenris pulled away from Invictus and stalked out of the tent, his focus on making Meneris hurt as he’d done to his beloved. 

“Shit, shit, oh shit. He’s going to kill him isn’t he?” Vic said as he debated running after Fenris or staying with them. “I don’t want to leave you like this, but he’s dangerous when he’s not angry.” 

Anders stirred and opened his eyes. “Vic?” he said drowsily. “What’s going on?”

“What isn’t going on is more like it,” Vic said as he rose. “Hal stay here, I’ll... wait, because if I go after Fenris it will be worse I think,” he said slowly.

Hal leapt to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll see if I can talk sense into him,” he said tersely before taking off at a run. He heard Anders call his name but didn’t look back as he ducked under the tent flap and sprinted after the elf.

He did at least know where Fenris was going, which made it much simpler; he darted between the tents, weaving in and out of groups of mercenaries, dodged around a pair of templars who regarded him with startled eyes as he ran on. He pushed through the flap of Meneris’ tent, ignoring the shouts of the guards outside, only coming to a halt as he took in the sight of Fenris, crouched upon the table, one hand reaching out and _through_ Dorian’s chest towards Meneris, the magister’s back arched and his head thrown back in a silent scream as he trembled, unable to move or breathe.

“Fenris, _no!!_ ” screamed Hal.

“You heard how he hurt Zevran, how he hurt you!” Fenris snapped as he focused on Meneris, not able to stop himself before he’d run Dorian through. 

“Dorian doesn’t deserve this,” Hal pleaded. “Look what you’re doing to your _amicus_! Does he deserve to die? Or to watch you kill his husband? Fenris, you’re _killing_ him!”

The warrior elf blinked and seemed to realize what he’d done, so he carefully pulled his arm back and away from Dorian so he could catch him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he said as he watched the other man slump in his grip. Dorian gasped in air, his face grey as his eyes closed. He gave a soft groan, half-articulated in the back of his throat.

Hal drew closer. “Fenris. You need to be clear-minded. Dorian is hurt. He needs you. Please... bring him to me. Let me help. Meneris can wait. He doesn’t matter; Dorian needs our help.” He darted a piercing look at Meneris who was looking shaken, white-faced and desperately worried for his husband. The redhead’s ice-blue eye seemed to transfix the elf where he stood. 

“Come here,” Fenris replied, unwilling to move with Dorian looking almost dead. He sat cross-legged and held the magister as he let Hal get closer to him. 

Hal pressed his hands to Dorian’s chest and let his magic flow into him as he glanced over his shoulder at Meneris. “Look well on this, Meneris,” he said darkly. “This is your doing. You have hurt Zevran terribly, and now Dorian is hurt. And this is directly because of what you did. Fenris is merely the instrument of justice visiting their pain on you.”

The warrior was quiet as he held his _amicus_ , refusing to look upon Meneris as Hal worked. He knew his temper was too frayed and he would happily have taken the other elf’s life in a heartbeat if he wasn’t holding Dorian. 

“I’m sorry my friend, my anger wasn’t with you,” he murmured to the unresponsive magister in his arms. 

Dorian’s eyes slowly opened as Hal’s magic revived him. “ _Am...am...amicus_ ,” he managed to gasp. “Please. Don’t.... don’t kill Men... Meneris. H-husband. L...love....”

“Fenris,” said Hal softly. “Look at me, please. Killing Meneris solves nothing. It won’t heal Zevran’s pain. Zevran needs you right now. He needs _you_ , far more than he needs vengeance. Than _you_ need vengeance. Please.”

“You heard Zevran! You heard how he spoke of himself after _he_ spoke of us like we were trash for not being Dalish. All that I have done to not lose Zevran or you, or ...I can’t,” Fenris said roughly.

“Fenris, remember what Zevran has said about birds pecking away pieces of his soul,” said Hal desperately. “If you kill Meneris, how do you think it will affect Zevran? It will be one more death he’ll lay at his own door!” He stared at Fenris, afraid to take his eyes off the warrior. “If you kill Meneris, it changes nothing. It can’t take away the words he said. But Zevran will blame himself. It’ll be another piece of his soul gone.” He stared up into Fenris’ eyes. “Please, love,” he begged. “You know he’s not worth this. Not Dorian’s life. Not Zevran’s soul.”

“You’re wiser than your years and for that, he should be grateful.” Fenris said before he laid Dorian down and stepped back. “I’ll be in our tent when you’re done here, maybe sleeping - I don’t know. Today has been too much in a lot of ways,” the warrior said before leaving for their tent at a fast clip, eager to be with his spouses. 

Hal worked silently, not stepping back until there was colour in Dorian’s cheeks and the magister slept deeply. He stared coldly through Meneris as the elf attempted to stammer thanks; when the former Inquisitor fell silent, he finally rose and made his way back through the camp towards the tent where the others waited.

As night fell, he laid down to rest with his face pressed into the hair of Fenris, knowing that at that moment he belonged nowhere else. Dorian would live - and Meneris would have to be thankful with that.


	64. Chapter 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An energetic start to the morning. Meneris eats crow, and finally they are within sight of Adamant. NSFW start.

When Anders awoke the following morning, it was to the welcome sensation of his mana being fully replenished and far less of the ache and fatigue than he’d fallen asleep with. He was also feeling rather warm. He opened his eyes and glanced to either side, and realised he was sandwiched between Invictus and Zevran. The lyrium-lined arm flung around Zevran’s waist was obviously Fenris; but as Anders lifted his head to glance over at the tall elf as he lay sleeping, face nuzzled against the nape of Zevran’s neck and hidden by tousled golden hair, Anders realised there was a slender, lightly-freckled arm flung around Fenris’ waist from someone sleeping spooned up against the elf’s back.

He lowered his head back to the pillow and blinked; evidently Hal had remained and fallen asleep snuggled up to his elven lover. No wonder Anders felt so warm, snuggled in with four bedmates. Perhaps it was as well they were sleeping on bedrolls on the floor, for he doubted any bed had ever been built that would have taken five men at once.

Zevran stirred slightly as Anders lay back down again, his golden eyes slowly opening to gaze at him drowsily. “ _Mi cuore_?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. 

“Hush, love,” murmured Anders as he stroked a hand gently down the side of Zevran’s face. The Antivan sighed and closed his eyes once more, slipping back into a light doze as Anders felt Invictus stir at his back.

“What are you up to? I felt that, love,” Vic asked quietly as he looked to his husband. “You pushed him back to sleep.”

“Hmm? No, just a gentle touch of healing,” replied Anders as he glanced back over his shoulder at Invictus. “He always aches the worst in the morning. I was just lightening that pain a little for him - he’s just very drowsy still, I think.” He shifted to lie on his back so he could turn to Invictus better. “What happened last night? He looks exhausted. I have some vague memory of waking to hear his voice, rather upset. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong though, and Fenris left in rather a hurry followed by Hal?”

“Do you really want to know?” Vic asked with a worried look.

Anders frowned slightly. “If you’re reacting like that, then I think I’d better,” he replied. “I’ve rarely known Zevran get so upset as to wake me from sleep like that - or to still look this exhausted come sun-up.”

“Meneris got on a tear and laid into Fenris again when they went to tell him of the Venatori and other things seen while flying. It sounded like Dorian gave him what for, and we all heard the fight, including why Meneris has been such a dick to us, and it... really got to Zevran.” Vic paused and glanced over to see if Fenris was still asleep before continuing.

“Zevran spiraled really bad after the argument that followed his apology, calling himself a whore and... Fenris was going to kill Meneris. He just dashed out with murder in mind, but Dorian jumped in the way, so he nearly killed his _amicus_ instead; and poor Hal had to talk him down afterward. He was a mess before he finally went to sleep and I think Hal helped him along or he’d be awake now glaring at me.” 

Anders blinked. “What in the Void did Meneris say to have Zevran call himself that?” he asked softly, with a touch of ice steel to his voice.

“We fail to match his expectations of us as elves,” murmured Zevran drowsily, not opening his eyes. “But then, what can he expect of the son of a Dalish whore? I am my mother’s child and it seems I am not allowed to forget that.”

Anders drew his breath in sharply, and Zevran opened his eyes as he laid a finger against the mage’s lips. “Hush,” the Antivan said quietly. “I am what I am.”

“You’re not that! Stop this, please Zevran, it hurts to hear you say that.” Vic replied. “We love you so much; you’re not a whore, dammit. Don’t let his stuck up Dalish ass make you feel like you’re less than anyone.” 

Zevran smiled sadly. “Forgive me, _mi amor_ ,” he murmured softly. “His words were as sharp as any assassin’s blade, and they pricked me deeply I fear. I think it will take more than brandy to heal this wound.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I do not mean to hurt you also. He touched upon my own fears too much. I am still very much at heart that poor boy from Antiva who grew up in a whorehouse, no? Some parts of our past we cannot change.”

“I understand,” said Anders sadly. “Run as I may, I can’t run away from my past in the Circle. Nor Fenris his past as a slave. But we are all so much more than our beginnings in life, Zevran.”

“I know love, I know. Come let’s get something to eat, and let them sleep in,” Vic said as he sat up and gave Zevran a slow smile. “Or would you rather I get something and bring it back for us?”

Zevran opened his eyes and glanced down at Fenris’ arm around his waist. “I think perhaps I am not going anywhere until my _carissimi_ should wake, no?” he observed. He glanced up at Anders and Invictus, trailing one hand slowly down Anders’ bare arm. “Perhaps we should stay and wait for you to bring us food?”

“I could move his arm off you, I don’t think he’s waking any time soon,” Vic said with a glance at Hal who was looking at him over Fenris’s shoulder. Hal was blinking sleepily.

“You woke me up,” he said sleepily. He glanced at Anders. “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better,” Anders assured him. “My mana is fully restored, and it doesn’t hurt to breathe quite so much.”

“Oh good,” said Hal, then yawned. “Forgive me - what time is it?”

“Perhaps an hour after dawn?” Anders guessed. Zevran glanced up at the light that illuminated the canvas tent and nodded. 

“I would say yes,” the Antivan agreed, still trailing his fingers along Anders’ arm. He drew his fingers up the inside of Ander’s wrist, and the mage lay back down to gaze up into Zevran’s eyes as the Antivan shifted slightly to lean upon his other arm as he stared down at the mage with a grin.

“I’ll get us food, you two stay out of too much trouble or at least have breakfast first,” Vic said with a wink before heading out of the tent. 

“I? Trouble?” exclaimed Zevran in mock-wounded tones.

“Hush, love,” chuckled Anders. “You’ll wake Fenris!”

Hal glanced down at the sleeping warrior. “Oh, I think Fenris is out for the count for a while yet,” he replied. He glanced at the arm Fenris had looped around Zevran and smirked. “So I don’t think you’ll be capable of getting up to any mischief, Zevran. His arm is heavy, isn’t it?”

“All that lyrium and muscle,” Anders agreed. Zevran groaned and lay back down, managing to shift onto his back. Fenris merely growled something indistinct in his sleep before tightening his arm around Zevran’s waist then going still again.

“Maybe _I’m_ the one who will have to take merciless advantage of you for once, Zev,” said Anders in a low voice as he sat up then leaned over the Antivan. 

“And what will you do with me, eh, _mi cuore_?” teased Zevran. “After all, you -”

He got no further as Anders leaned down and stole his breath and voice with a kiss, slow and sweet; after a moment, the Antivan groaned into Anders’ mouth as one hand lifted to thread fingers into Anders’ hair.

Hal cleared his throat quietly as he sat up and glanced away, blushing slightly.

Zevran was groaning louder now, voice muffled by Anders as the mage continued to kiss him; the blond had reached one hand back to cup it over Zevran’s groin through the blanket and the elf was slowly writhing, pinned beneath Fenris’ arm and helpless to do much more than that as Anders stole his breath and channelled a little magic through the palm of his hand.

Hal coughed slightly. “You’re going to wake Fenris if you keep that up, Anders,” he warned in a low voice, his face still turned away and blushing fiercely.

The warrior mumbled in his sleep as he felt Zevran’s movement against him and half opened his eyes after a rather enthusiastic rub against him. “ _Carissimi_?” he asked as he held Zevran closer without thinking.

Zevran gave a somewhat breathless keen, the sound still muffled as his movements slowed somewhat; Anders drew back, breathless from the kiss, to stare down at the elf’s flushed face. The Antivan was wheezing slightly as he gasped for breath.

“I cannot breathe,” he managed, as Hal glanced back around hurriedly then leaned over to squeeze Fenris’ shoulder slightly.

“Fenris? Loosen your hold please?” he asked, a little worried as Zevran tried to move but was pinned too firmly in place by the warrior’s arm.

“Hmmm. OK,” Fenris said before rolling to his other side and reaching out for Hal, settling only when he felt the redhead's hand in his.

Zevran drew a slow, deep breath then chuckled, still a little breathless. “That was... not quite how I expected to begin this morning,” he confessed.

Anders laughed softly, then he lay down next to the Antivan and grinned at him. “Be thankful for Hal,” he suggested.

“Oh, I shall thank Hal in due course, _mi cuore_ ,” replied Zevran. “But first, I think there should be a little repayment.”

“Repayment? Zev, what -”

Anders got no further as suddenly the Antivan was kneeling astride him, claiming his mouth as he pinned both Anders’ wrists above his head with one hand whilst the other snaked down between Anders’ legs and the mage was at the assassin’s mercy. Hal stared, eyes widening slightly as Anders gave a muffled sound of surprise, then closed his eyes and groaned as it was now his turn to writhe under the elf’s ministrations. With Fenris’ firm grip of his hand upon Hal, the redhead couldn’t turn away this time.

Hal licked his lips without thinking, his throat suddenly dry as he watched Anders arch up into Zevran’s grip, Anders’ face becoming flushed as he bucked up into Zevran’s touch and moaned wantonly into the kiss, flexing his wrists helplessly against the restraint of Zevran’s other hand. Zevran’s fist was pumping steadily at Anders’ flesh as he continued to steal Anders’ breath with his kiss, the mage helplessly and hopelessly aroused; and Hal felt his own breath coming faster. The tent seemed too warm, his pants too tight beneath the blanket.

The sounds Zevran was making finally got through to Fenris and he sat up slowly, confused at the sounds he was hearing until he opened his eyes and saw two of his husbands ignoring everything but each other. “That’s something to wake up to,” he said slowly. Hal was staring, unable to tear his eyes away; Zevran was now riding Anders’ cock, taking his pleasure slow and steady as Anders moaned into Zevran’s mouth, his hands still pinned by the Antivan’s sure grip. Hal was unaware of the faint whimper that escaped his own lips as he stared at them both, his own cheeks flushed.

“I take it you want some of that?” Fenris asked as he reached back to pull Hal into his arms. “OK there?”

Hal gasped and stared up at Fenris, his eyes wide and dark. Zevran gave a long, low, hedonistic groan and Anders whimpered behind them, and Hal couldn’t swallow down his own whimper. “F-fenris,” he panted. Maker, his pants had never felt so tight - and now he was pressed up against Fenris’ body.

“What do you need?” Fenris asked even as he laid back and urged Hal to straddle him. He stared up at the young man, who was still staring at his husbands enjoying themselves, company be damned. “You want that? To call out like Zevran is for him? You always look so beautiful when you let go for me; do you need that now, Hal? Tell me,” the elf asked as he felt just how his younger lover had been affected. 

Hal turned a heated gaze on him, his eyes still dark and slightly glazed. “I _need_ ,” he said in a low, husky voice, “to get out of these damned tight pants right now.” He ground down against Fenris’ groin and shuddered.

Zevran was panting now, little keening cries with each thrust as Anders moved beneath him, thrusting up into his body as the mage drove them both faster towards climax, the elf now the helpless one as Anders gripped his hips and Zevran gave in to the sensations of his body, oblivious to anything else.

“Then get out of them while I do the same and let me take you for a ride,” Fenris said as he watched Hal for a hint he wasn’t comfortable with where things were going. When he saw how fast the redhead had stripped off, he tugged his own pants off and arched up at the feel of a slick palm on his cock. “Easy... don’t want to come before you get me ready.”

Hal slowed the movement of his hand, even as he rose on his knees to reach between his own thighs to begin preparing himself, leaning low over Fenris as he daringly claimed the elf’s lips for a brief kiss, his breath coming faster. Behind him, they could hear Zevran’s pants coming faster, punctuated by the slap of flesh on flesh, Anders’ grunting breath a counterpoint as the mage drove them both faster towards climax.

“Go on, its alright,” Fenris said with a smile as he watched Hal, even holding himself still until he felt the other man slide down on him until he felt Hal rest against his hips. “Better?” 

Hal nodded, staring down at Fenris; he licked his lips briefly. “Move... please,” he breathed.

Zevran came with a hoarse, stuttering cry; Anders now had his hands firmly around the Antivan’s wrists as he thrust harder up into the elf’s body, his breath coming in harsh pants as he chased his own climax.

Fenris rolled his hips slowly, focusing all on Hal, even pulling the young man down for a kiss. “Thank you,” he said after letting go so he could concentrate on getting Hal off, thrusting in counterpoint to the other man’s rise and fall over him. 

Anders came with a soft, stifled grunt; his movements slowed, then Fenris felt the unmistakable pull of magic as the mage curled his hand around Zevran’s softening cock and channelled a quick rejuvenate through it; Zevran drew in a sharp breath and straightened, even as Anders pulled himself up so that Zevran was seated in his lap, his eyes still dark. Anders gave Zevran a quick grin and then reversed their positions so that now Zevran lay on his back as Anders straddled him, pinning the Antivan’s wrists to the floor as he sank down onto the elf’s cock which was already hard again.

Hal was barely aware of this, his focus instead on Fenris and how the elf’s cock was making him feel inside - stretched almost uncomfortably and filled deeper than he remembered as he rose and slammed down to meet Fenris’ hard thrusts. He grinned at the warrior through his pants.

“Break me,” he begged breathlessly.

“Easy there... just want to make you feel good. Hold on,” Fenris said before he sat up and flipped them over so he could take control and pound into Hal hard as he wanted, though he wasn’t sure about breaking him. 

Just as Fenris had gotten Hal to a point of swearing and begging, Invictus returned to find the four of them into each other, thoughts of breakfast far gone. “Oh for Andraste’s blood, I only left for a short while!” he said as he sat the tray down and pondered taking his breakfast and leaving them to their impromptu orgy.

Anders was gasping as Zevran thrust up into him, both their bodies sheened in sweat, Anders’ face and chest still marked with the traces of their earlier round. Beyond them, Hal was keening as he writhed beneath Fenris’ onslaught, the warrior elf pounding relentlessly into the young man’s body as Hal begged and pleaded, half-articulate entreaties mixed with Fenris’ name.

Anders came with a silent cry, his breath catching in his throat as he shuddered; Zevran came almost a second afterwards, his own climax heralded by a low grunt as Anders bowed his head, raggedly gasping as he tried to catch his breath.

Oblivious, Hal gazed up at Fenris, feeling his own climax coiling hot and insistent in his groin as he cried out with each thrust, and he fought for breath. “F-Fen - gonna - Maker - please....”

“Let go, its ok… let go,” Fenris replied before leaning down to kiss Hal as he kept up his pace. He felt giddy almost as he took the young mage, he was focused on him and hadn’t heard Invictus return, or the end of the other’s tryst. 

Hal tried to speak, but he had no breath left even to cry even as his climax overwhelmed him and he shuddered with a silent scream, almost convulsing as his body finally let go.

Anders glanced up, still panting, and gave Invictus a tired grin. “Oh! Uh... hello, love,” he managed. “Maker, is that breakfast? I’m starving!”

“Yeah, its breakfast. I wasn’t even gone that long! Fenris wasn’t even awake, what in the Void has gotten into all of you?!” Vic asked as he took his bowl and retreated to a corner of the tent. 

Zevran glanced up at him, still pinned beneath Anders by the mage’s weight on his hips and grasp upon his wrists. “My love, do you perhaps feel left out?” he asked breathlessly. “Let _mi cuore_ revive himself and then you too may enjoy yourself, yes?” He looked up at Anders. “You may both use me, yes, my heart?” he murmured quietly.

“You need a break, and I’m not really in the mood,” Vic said irritably. 

Anders’ grin fell, and he hid his face behind his hair as he lowered his head slightly, then released Zevran’s wrists, almost shamefacedly. The Antivan glanced up at him, his own smile slipping as he took in how Anders was reacting to the unspoken chastisement. “ _Mi cuore_?” he asked, his voice pitched low and quiet, only for Anders’ ears. The mage merely shook his head almost imperceptibly as he straightened, head still bowed slightly as he shifted back then moved off Zevran and turned away to hunt for a bowl and cloth with which to clean them both up. As Zevran sat up, he saw Anders wince as Fenris suddenly came with a hoarse shout.

“Don’t look like that love, I’m just not in the mood and I’m a little...sad I guess. Go on and enjoy yourselves,” Vic said as he slowly ate. 

Anders shook his head, face still turned away as he cast ice into the bowl then began to melt it. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied quietly. “We were finished anyway.” He trailed a finger through Zevran’s spend, smeared across his chest.

Hal was sprawled bonelessly beneath Fenris, his own chest still heaving as he smiled breathlessly up at Fenris. “Th-thank you,” he managed to get out softly.

“You’re welcome,” Fenris said before rolling to his side and trying to catch his breath. He threw an arm over his face as he laid there, quiet until he noticed the smell of food and the silence in the tent. “Vic?”

“Food’s on the tray, I’ll be back later,” Vic said before heading out to find his brother. 

Anders was sitting on his bedroll looking somewhat dejected as he cleaned himself up, Zevran sitting beside him with a concerned look as he glanced to Fenris.

“He’s unhappy then?” Fenris asked as he sat up and made a face at how covered he was in Hal’s come. “Can one of you heat some water?” 

Wordlessly, Anders drew another bowl to himself and cast ice into it before channelling heat into it to melt and warm it. Zevran handed the bowl and more cloths to Fenris then turned back to Anders, brushing the mage’s hands away to take over cleaning his own spend from the pale scarred skin of Anders’ chest.

“I’ll go talk to him after I eat, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Fenris said after he was cleaned up and had pulled the tray over. “Eat, all of you and don’t argue with me.” 

Hal was looking around at Anders and Zevran with a look of slight confusion as he finished cleaning up then reached for his pants. Anders was refusing to look up as Zevran tried to catch his eye.

“Anders, look at him,” Fenris said as he sat his bowl aside and hunted for his clothes. “Withdrawing won’t help and it's not your fault.” He gave Zevran a rather pointed look at the other elf’s own raised brow. “Yeah I know, pot meet kettle but I can learn.”

Anders looked up and finally looked Zevran in the eye; he managed a sad smile for his Antivan husband. “It’s alright, love,” he said softly. “I’ll be alright.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Just... I... he caught me in the wrong way is all.”

Zevran gently stroked his face. “Ah, _mi cuore_ ,” he sighed. “You are always so open and vulnerable after making love, no? To love or displeasure.”

“I never used to be,” the mage answered, trying to bow his head again but checked by the elf’s hand now firmly holding his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze on the Antivan’s golden eyes. 

“No, but that was then; this is now,” the elf said firmly. “And Invictus should know this. And Invictus _does_ know this. And when he returns, he will be in a better temper and he will apologise, yes? So.” He sat up straighter. “We will eat, dress, and all will be well, yes?”

Hal was watching them both silently, dressing slowly before he took a bowl and began to eat.

“I will go and speak with him, assuming I am not surrounded by Cullen and his men the moment I set foot out of the tent,” Fenris said as he laced up his trousers and tugged a clean tunic over his head. “Take care of each other, I’ll be back soon.” 

Anders’ head jerked up and his eyes widened at mention of Cullen. “Wait - what?” he exclaimed as he pushed himself up to his feet, dropping the cloth in the bowl as he moved swiftly to block the entrance of the tent. “What do you mean? Why would Cullen be here with his men? Fenris, what have you done?” There was a spark of real fear in Anders’ eyes.

The tall elf looked down and scuffed a foot in the dirt of the tent floor as he spoke. “I... might have, perhaps attacked Meneris but Dorian got in the way and took the hit instead. Hal talked me down but I don’t know if they will want me to, um... if they will want to have a word with me,” Fenris finished. 

Anders stared at him, his eyebrows slowly rising as his stare lost the fear only to be replaced with incredulousness. “You... you _what?_ ” he managed. “You... but... Maker, _why?_ What - Maker, is Dorian alright, at least?”

“Yes, he’s alright thanks to Hal. Please don’t yell,” Fenris said as he kept his head down and waited for Anders to lose his composure.

Anders swallowed hard as he lifted his hands to briefly touch Fenris’ chest then let them fall. “I’m... I’m not going to yell,” he said, quieter. “I - no, I won’t yell. I just - _why?_ Fenris, Meneris hates us all enough as it is, what on earth possessed you to give him another reason to despise us and want us out of his hair even more than he already did?” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Maker, wasn’t yesterday morning enough? I swear, if I weren’t more use to him as a mage and healer he would likely have cheerfully have ordered Carver’s templars to make me tranquil.”

“He wouldn’t,” said Hal, getting to his feet and coming towards them. “It would be more than his life would be worth - and Carver and his templars would refuse.”

“Would they?” Anders laughed, disbelievingly. “They’re fucking _templars!_ ” The fear had returned to his eyes once more. “Maker, why was I so stupid, letting Callus get to me like that? Of all the stupid, foolish things to do -”

“Please stop, we had a nice start to the day - and if I get hauled in for assaulting Dorian, it’s what I earned, right?” Fenris straightened up and tugged Anders aside. “Put on clothes, spend time with them and hopefully I’ll be back.” 

Anders clutched at the sleeve of his shirt. “Fenris,” he said, an urgent note of fear in his voice. “Don’t - don’t go. Please.”

Zevran had risen to his feet, setting his bowl aside as he moved swiftly to Anders’ side; Hal was already there, slipping an arm around Anders’ waist to pull him away. Zevran slipped a strong brown arm around Anders’ chest and drew the unwilling mage back against himself. 

“ _Mi cuore_ , calm yourself,” said the Antivan. “You let your fears unman you, my heart. Come. Let Fenris go, and let us talk of why you are so fearful?”

“Anders, come on - no-one is going to make you tranquil, and no-one is going to arrest Fenris,” said Hal soothingly. “You’ve exhausted yourself with going two rounds with Zevran, and you’re not a Warden anymore - and you haven’t eaten. Come on, sit down before you fall down!”

“You know Hal speaks sense,” Zevran said persuasively as Anders struggled then gave up, his eyes regarding Fenris fearfully still but helpless to prevent the elf from leaving with both Hal and Zevran holding him there.

“Don’t go,” he breathed.

“Fine, just… sit down and eat,” Fenris said tiredly before sitting and taking a cup of warm tea from Hal. “Just ... calm down.” 

Anders allowed himself to be gently tugged back over to the bedroll and sat down; Hal brought him his bowl before handing Zevran his own half-eaten breakfast then fixing mugs of tea for himself and the other two. Anders had begun to eat slowly. By the time he’d nearly finished the bowl, he was far calmer; it wasn’t until he’d finished and had drunk half his tea that he finally looked up at Fenris apologetically.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. “Not entirely sure what came over me then.”

“Lack of food, holdover from the smiting yesterday and then - well,” Hal shrugged, not looking up from his own breakfast. “You were already feeling shaky after Invictus went off. You just needed to eat and sit quietly for a little bit, I dare say.”

“Thank you Senior Healer Hal,” said Anders a little acerbically; he grinned at the younger man when Hal darted him a look however. “Yes, well, you’re probably right.” He ran a hand over his face slowly. “Maker. I’m an embarrassment to myself this morning, let alone anyone else. No wonder Vic didn’t want to stick around.”

“You were no more an embarrassment than I was, my heart,” Zevran chided him with an arched eyebrow. “It was I who suggested he take a turn, no?”

“I would have thought you would have been too sore, Zevran,” remarked Hal. “Neither you nor Anders were exactly being gentle with each other, after all.”

“I am surprised you were capable of noticing - my _carissimi_ was nailing you most thoroughly also, no?” shot back the Antivan.

“I’m not the one who wanted both Anders and Invictus to nail him scarcely five minutes after he’d been thoroughly shagged,” Hal pointed out, reaching for his mug of tea without looking at the elf. Anders merely blinked at Hal.

“Who are you and what have you done with Hal?” he asked, wonderingly. Zevran snorted.

“Oh, you did not see him last night, my heart!” he said with a laugh. “Eh, _carissimi_? Your Hal has a spine of steel to match any man in this camp.”

“Now that you feel more yourself, what do you want to do? I’m feeling cooped up and antsy, but I do not want to distress you further,” Fenris said as he tapped his fingers on his knees restlessly. 

Anders drained the last of his tea then set the mug aside before getting to his feet. He stretched, arching his back until it cracked before he reached for his clothes. “I’ll be alright,” he answered as he started to dress. “Hal was right; I do feel better for food and a breathing space. I’m not happy that you attacked Meneris - and don’t think I haven’t noticed you still haven’t answered _why_ \- but I can see that I was getting a bit overwrought there and doubtless letting my own paranoia get the better of me. Just because we stepped out of the tent to find me surrounded after I was such an idiot last time doesn’t mean it’ll be you squaring up to Cullen this time, after all.” He glanced at Hal. “And Hal doesn’t seem to think so either, for some reason.”

“I was there,” shrugged Hal. “Meneris knew why he was there, I’m certain, and likely holds himself accountable for Dorian nearly ending up dead - after all, that whole situation was entirely of Meneris’ making. And for one other very good reason.” He suddenly grinned. “If Cullen were waiting outside to arrest Fenris, we’d have heard the shouting from Invictus already.”

Zevran began to chuckle as Anders looked a bit bemused. “He has you there, my heart!” the Antivan pointed out. “Cullen would hardly have waited all this time whilst we leisurely finished our breakfast, no? And Invictus would not idly stand by so long either. No, Cullen will not seek to lay hands upon my _carissimi_ , or he would already have done so.”

“If we were going to face Cullen, it would have been last night as we tried to leave Meneris’ tent,” said Hal. “No-one tried to stop us from leaving. I think Meneris has a lot to think over, this morning.” He got to his feet and began to gather up the dirty dishes and mugs. “And I should go there myself and check how Dorian is this morning. He was looking very pale still when I left, though he was sleeping.”

“I’ll just stay here, maybe go back to sleep,” Fenris said quietly as he stretched out and stared at the others, unsure what was going to happen after he’d lost himself and tried to murder the other elven warrior. 

“Go and find Invictus, _carissimi_ ,” said Zevran gently. “He _did_ feel left out, I think, and it was perhaps a little unfair of us to make such sport without him.” He shrugged ruefully. “I would quite cheerfully have offered myself but he declined.”

“Zevran,” said Anders quietly. “Were you actually being altruistic?”

The Antivan’s smile became a little lopsided. “Perhaps not entirely,” he admitted. “But he declined and so my reasons are irrelevant, yes?”

“Zevran…” Fenris started before he caught a look from his husband. “Don’t hide from us, isn’t that what you tell me?” 

Zevran glanced aside. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “And so you will not permit me to remain quiet, is that it? You will chivvy me until I confess, eh?”

“That suggests you have something to confess to,” said Hal as he stacked the dirty breakfast dishes on the tray.

“Oh, not you too, sweet Hal!” protested Zevran. “Is it not enough that I must answer to my husbands?”

“It is - if you answer them,” replied Hal in a reasonable tone of voice. Zevran groaned. Then he glanced back at Anders before looking to Fenris.

“You do not wish me to answer, my loves,” he said quietly. “My answer will not please you.”

“What you refuse to say is displeasing me more than what you could tell us. But if you wish to hold your secrets, remember that the next time you try to pry words from me,” Fenris said before rolling to his side. 

Zevran bowed his head and was silent for a few moments. “You grew distressed enough when I called myself a whore that you ran off to plunge your fist through Meneris’ chest and instead harmed your _amicus_ ,” he said quietly. “Do you truly wish to hear me say that if Meneris chooses to view me as a two-copper whore, why should I not play the part and enjoy myself - and let others enjoy me also?”

“Zevran!” exclaimed Anders, even as Hal almost threw the tray back to the floor and turned on the Antivan. 

“Zevran Hawke, you are _not_ a whore and nor will you be treated like one!” said the redhead heatedly. “By yourself or anyone else!”

“I don’t like it but...what is you’ve told me over and over? I can’t make you change, it has to come from yourself? I don’t think you’re a whore and none of us do; but until you stop believing it, this will happen again when someone digs at you,” Fenris said as he stared at the other elf, curious as to whether he’d hear him or not. 

Zevran lifted his head a little to glance at Fenris. “Had Meneris said such things five years ago, I would have laughed, shrugged, and cared not. I had more skills then, no? I was feared throughout Thedas as the Master of the Crows, and I knew there were few men who could best me. I cannot say the same now however. So the words hurt me more than they should, and perhaps it is a little harder for me to laugh, _carissimi_.” He lowered his gaze to the floor again. 

“Zevran?” said Anders softly as he reached out a hand to lay it gently on the elf’s knee. Zevran smiled sadly and laid his hand over Anders’ pale fingers.

“Forgive me, my loves. Had the insult come from anyone else in this camp then it could not have wounded me so deeply. But to be despised by the Dalish - as my mother was? It was not the Master of the Crows that considered himself nothing more than a whore, but a young man orphaned because his mother’s people despised his mother and he too.”

Fenris sighed and reached over to his husband, saddened by his words. “Can I hold you while they go and check on Dorian? I need you.” 

“And I also need you, _carissimi_ ,” replied Zevran.

“I’ll go,” said Hal. “I should check on Arden in any case.” He picked up the tray and frowned at the bowl that had broken, then headed to the door flap.

“Hal?” said Anders as he began to rise; Hal shook his head and then nodded at Zevran. 

“I’ll be fine. You should look after Zevran. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Go on Anders, check on Dorian and come back to us please?” Fenris said as Zevran came over and curled up next to him. “I’ll take care of Zevran until you return,” he said before laying back and getting held in return by the smaller Antivan. 

Anders stood, looking between Zevran and Hal indecisively, not wanting to leave Zevran in that state and yet feeling that Fenris for some reason wanted him to leave. Then, too, he was also concerned for Hal and what effect being near the arulin’holm would have. He fervently wished Invictus hadn’t stalked off like that. He eyed Fenris.

“Love... I’m not happy leaving Zevran whilst he’s like this. I’ll...” he paused, then glanced at the door flap then back to Fenris. “I’ll order Captain Amell to stay here instead of accompanying me. I shouldn’t need her help - and then if you need me, you can send her to come find me, alright?”

“I don’t need a guard; but if you insist, she can stay out there,” Fenris said as he focused on Zevran, rubbing a thumb over his cheek as he stared at his husband. 

Before Anders could respond the tent flap opened and Invictus entered, looking a bit sheepish as he saw everyone turning to look at him. “I...sorry for earlier, I was kind of a brat eh?” 

“Thank the Maker you’ve come back,” Anders exhaled thankfully. “Love, Zevran isn’t in a good way right now, but Hal wants to check on Dorian and Arden - and I’m not happy at the thought of him being so near to the arulin’holm; there’s something not right about the effect it has on him. One of us needs to go with him I think, but Zevran needs people around him. Either you or I should stay here with Zevran and Fenris.”

“I’ll stay, like I should have earlier; go on, love,” Vic said as he approached the two elves carefully and sat near them.

“Thank you, love,” Anders answered, then nodded to Hal to lead the way. He could only hope that Invictus and Fenris would be able to draw Zevran out again.

He nodded to Captain Amell as she saluted him then followed behind, briefly wondering if the woman had stayed outside their tent the whole night. She looked remarkably fresh and well-rested for someone who supposedly had slept in her armour - then again, he knew a number of little tricks he used to use himself when sleeping in Warden uniform, and he supposed she could hardly be expected to stand guard over him at all hours of the day and night.

“Dorian first then?” he said to Hal, who nodded, pausing only to hand the tray to a passing scullion who was heading back to the mess tent.

The camp was busy; they must have been amongst the last people to get breakfast, he suspected. A patrol of Chargers and Wardens was just returning, their armour looking the worse for wear; Anders without thinking started veering to intercept them when Amell unexpectedly clapped him on the shoulder. 

“We have battle medics who will treat them, ser,” she reminded him. 

“Oh! Yes, yes of course,” he nodded, following Hal once more.

The guards waved them through into the tent, evidently expecting them. They found Dorian sitting in a chair, looking over the remains of a late breakfast and still looking a trifle grey as he sipped a glass of wine and scowled.

Meneris was in a camp chair, looking just as miserable as they’d left him the night before. He looked up but said nothing to the two mages. 

Anders spared him a glance but Hal ignored the former Inquisitor, making straight for Dorian instead.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Hal asked, noting the pallor of the magister’s skin with a professional eye.

“Like a herd of halla decided to tap-dance upon my chest,” declared Dorian acidly, and Meneris winced. “I suspect a few of them to have tap-danced upon my head whilst they were at it; I have the most impressive headache that elfroot seems to have barely touched.”

“Let’s see what I can do about that then, shall I?” said Hal as he pressed a hand against Dorian’s forehead and set about channelling healing magic; Dorian gave a thankful groan. 

Meneris kept silent, he found he didn’t have much to say after the blistering dressing down he’d gotten as soon as they’d woken up. He felt terrible but knew he’d get no sympathy from anyone in the tent. 

Anders paced slowly, letting Hal treat Dorian. He saw no reason to take over himself; there was nothing he could do for Dorian that Hal wasn’t more than capable of doing himself after all. He noticed Meneris’ silence and pondered.

Dorian reached for his glass of wine. “Please excuse us; we rose late and we’d just finished breakfast,” said the magister. “Would you care for wine?”

“Never whilst I’m healing, but thank you,” Hal replied. Anders glanced at Dorian, smiled briefly but shook his head.

“A bit early for me, I’m afraid; we’d only just eaten ourselves though.”

“Laid late a-bed did you?” said Dorian speculatively. “How are you feeling after yesterday morning’s smiting?”

“That felt rather like having a herd of halla stampede over me, never mind tap-dancing,” Anders replied. “And a bucket of magebane to follow. Somehow during all my years in the Tower, I never quite managed to piss the templars off to the point of five smites in the space of one morning. I think two was my record; three over the course of one day.”

Meneris listened but kept silent out of fear for an even worse rebuke from his husband in front of Hal and Anders. The younger redhead had already shamed him before Dorian had a chance to further decimate his pathetic reasons for how he’d mistreated them all. He looked up Anders briefly then dropped his gaze with a sigh. 

Hal had his hands pressed against Dorian’s chest now, one slipped into the front of the magister’s robes to press directly against the skin over Dorian’s heart. “Does this make the third or fourth time you’ve had Fenris’ fist through your chest, Dorian?” he asked.

Dorian pondered. “Third, I believe... no, tell a lie, fourth,” he replied. “You’d think I’d be used to the sensation by now.”

“Believe me, I don’t think that’s a sensation you could ever really get used to,” replied Anders with a shudder. 

“I wouldn’t know; my Fenris never did it to me, and nor has yours,” Hal replied. “But your heart seems to have a slightly odd little stutter to it. Anders, would you check please? I think it’s only an after-effect of the shock, but I should think you’re more familiar with the effects of Fenris’ abilities on hearts than I am.”

“Not necessarily,” disagreed Anders, nonetheless crossing to slip his own hand into Dorian’s robes to feel for himself as Hal stepped back. “Most people receiving Fenris’ fist through their heart are usually dead rather shortly afterwards, after all. The number of people that have survived are rather few.” 

“Your hand is cold,” remarked Dorian absently with a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature of Anders’ hand.

“Will he be alright?” Meneris finally asked as he watched Anders work on his husband. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he gasped finally. 

Anders frowned thoughtfully. “There’s no lasting damage, thankfully - just residual shock, I think,” he replied after a moment. He made to take back his hand but Dorian covered it briefly as he stared up at Anders. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “And... Zevran? Fenris?”

“Fenris is fine. Zevran... not so good,” the blond mage replied frankly.

“How so?” Meneris asked and flinched at the expression on Hal’s face. 

“You stirred up a lot of painful memories, Meneris,” said Hal caustically. “How do you think? Your people turned his Dalish mother away and rejected her. Because of your people, he was left an orphan and sold to the Crows at only seven years old. He grew up in a whorehouse and was sold like a slave because the Dalish considered his mother not good enough to welcome back, even though the child she bore was as full-blooded an elf as any of them. And then after he’d been crippled in your service he hears you denigrating him for not being as good as the Dalish. How do you _think_ , Meneris?”

“Gentle, Hal,” said Anders softly as he glanced up at the redhead, a little startled at the vitriol in the younger man’s voice. He exchanged a look with Dorian before he glanced back at Hal again. Then he glanced over at Meneris.

“Is this true?” he asked. “Did you seriously put Zevran down for not being as good as your people? As good as what?”

“It wasn’t just Zevran,” said Hal before the elf could speak. “It was all of us - you, your husbands, Arden and I. Apparently the Dalish are too civilised to experience jealousy.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “He’s only sorry that we overheard him say it, because evidently he’s thought it ever since Fenris and Invictus first arrived at Skyhold.”

Dorian’s hand closed around Anders’ wrist as the mage straightened and made to pull away from him; he squeezed Anders’ wrist warningly as Anders glanced down at him, and shook his head for silence before glancing at Meneris.

“Yes, please - I’ve had enough, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Meneris sounded as if he was about to start crying as it was, and he couldn’t lift his head to look at any of them. 

Anders stared at the elf. He was silent for several minutes, evidently at a complete loss for words. Finally he shook his head slowly. “Meneris... I honestly would never have expected that to come from you,” he said quietly. “I am more disappointed in you than I really know how to say.”

“I told him that same thing, near enough word for word,” murmured Dorian.

“Now I understand why Zevran was so distressed,” Anders went on. “I woke to hear him calling himself a whore, and now I understand why. He - he said this morning that if he were going to be treated like a two-copper whore then he -”

“He what?” exclaimed Dorian, startled, as he released Anders’ wrist and got to his feet. “Oh no. We cannot have this!”

“Yes, it’s what he said,” said Hal. “He feels that if he is viewed only as no better than the son of a whore, then why should he consider himself any better than that?”

“I’ll apologize again, and again, I’m sorry!” Meneris did sob that time, his composure broken over his arrogance and the harm he’d done to people who’d sacrificed so much for him and the Inquisition. 

Anders stared at him and felt cold disappointment inside. He swallowed hard. “How do you propose to put this right?” he asked quietly. “Perhaps you were unaware, but Zevran already feels all too keenly that he is no longer of any use and that his leg makes him more of a liability than an asset. He pushes himself harder than anyone one here to prove himself when he should be the last of any of us with something to prove. Could any other man or woman in this camp have tracked a tiger through thick forest, or survived armed only with a knife? I should point out to you that the only injuries I suffered when Zevran came after me were due to a fall of over a hundred feet and not to his blade. Could anyone here fight on a broken leg? Zevran has, and fought Invictus to a standstill at that. He ran your spies for you with a broken leg.” He took a step closer to the elf. “Do you think your tears mean anything to him? They change nothing. Tell me, Meneris. What will you do for Zevran, to put right what you’ve done to him?”

The elven warrior wiped at his face and looked to the tall mage. “I don’t know, I didn’t know his past and I don’t know if he will hear me if I go to him. You should have let Fenris take my heart, or let Zevran take out his rage on me.” Meneris looked away and at his husband with a distraught look.

“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you and disappointed you love, and your _amicus_ , and you, Hal. I’m sorry, and I don’t know what can fix this if anything,” he said roughly. 

Anders stared down at him. “You didn’t know Zevran’s past, and his past shouldn’t matter - because you shouldn’t have said anything, regardless,” he said quietly. “The Dalish are not perfect paragons, and I have known plenty of pettiness to come from them - and they are just as prone to jealousy as any other race. I have no past history of a mother being turned away by her own people; you are just as wrong to condemn me for not being as perfect as you think your people were as you did Zevran. It is simply his past that makes what you said particularly painful for him.” He shook his head at Meneris. “Perhaps you should take the Dalish off their pedestal. I would have thought that Solas’ parting words should have made it clear to you that they are not the civilised people you think them to be. The Dalish may once have been all that you think they are - but it is clear that they are all too _human_ now.”

Meneris nodded and kept his head down in shame. “As you say, I was wrong. Please - you know them best, is there anything I can do to beg forgiveness?” he asked, voice still rough. 

“Begging will do nothing for them,” said Anders sternly. “They are men of action. You will have to show by your deeds, not your words, that you regret and repent of what you’ve said.” He turned and began to pace. “And of all the times to do it as well - just as we are about to head off to Adamant! Maker. Meneris, I’d ask what you were thinking but clearly that’s the problem - you _weren’t!_ ” His lips thinned as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Anders,” said Hal quietly. The blond mage halted and glanced at him, then exhaled.

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m getting angry, and it will not help Zevran if I have one of my turns. I don’t think it likely I will, but then I _did_ take five smites in a row yesterday morning so I shouldn’t push it.”

Meneris looked up finally and stared Anders in the eye as he spoke. “I owe you an apology twice over, if you will hear me.” 

Anders stared down at him, a slightly wary look in his eye. He nodded slowly. “I’m listening,” he replied.

“I apologize for letting things get to the point where seeing you take those Smites would satisfy the rumors. I apologize for thinking so little of you and your family; I was arrogant as Dorian pointed out and I have caused you all great hurt. I do not expect forgiveness, I hope you can hear me and know it’s from my heart.” Meneris dropped his gaze once he was done and tensed, almost as if he expected Anders to lose his temper or worse. 

Anders stared down at him. “I am thankful for one thing, Meneris,” he said quietly. “And that is that my half-elven daughter didn’t have to witness me being put through that. She did enough damage when she thought Fenris had made me cry, you know; set the house on fire. If she thought that you were responsible for me going through that? I wouldn’t think your life worth spit by the time she’d finished. As it is, I prefer she be protected from such sights. And after all, I think any child should only have to bury their father once in their life. You nearly made it twice. It still may happen yet, but let’s not be in so much of a hurry as to race to see which of us can put one of the others in their grave first, hmm? I have no wish to have to bury you or Dorian, any more than I would Zevran, or Invictus, or Fenris - or Hal, here, or Arden either. Fenris will doubtless be very glad that I can report back to him that his _amicus_ lives, breathes and is well enough to drink wine over breakfast.” He glanced at Dorian who had the grace to look suitably abashed.

“So, I have no interest in exacting any sort of punishment or vengeance on you, Meneris - I’ve had a gutful of the latter to last me several lifetimes. You seem to be doing a pretty good job of self-flagellation in any case - not that I’ve ever known self-blame to be of any use to anyone and certainly it doesn’t fix anything. I can only hope that it will lead to a desire to improve and be better than this. You were the Inquisitor once, and people looked up to you. I trust that in time they will be able to do so again.”

He turned and walked towards the exit. “Hal, Arden’s waiting.”

“I don’t think anyone should look to me after this. I’m sorry,” Meneris said dully as he watched them leave. 

Dorian reached for his glass of wine as the tent flap closed behind them. “Dumat, but I swear Hal’s tongue could put my mother to shame; who could have known him to have such vitriol in him?” He drained his glass then turned to Meneris. “And Anders was far too gentle with you, _amatus_ , after what you’ve put him through. He had every right to twice the vitriol of Hal and yet he gave you very little indeed. I do hope you will take his words to heart. They were good ones, and you’ll insult him thrice over if you ignore them.”

“I’m going to rescind command to Cullen and ride with the rest of the soldiers, I... I am not fit for command if I can be so hateful and arrogant to those who’ve sacrificed so much for me, for the Inquisition. I need to clear my head; will you be alright if I take a walk?” Meneris asked.

“Rescind command to Cullen? You’ll do no such thing!” declared Dorian. “Of all the idiotic, asinine ideas - hand command to a man who tried to throttle Hal right in front of us? A man who forgets where he even is, at times? And what happens when he has a flashback to our first time at Adamant perhaps, and attacks Nathaniel and his Wardens, hmm? Or something worse? No, you shan’t be let off that easily.” He shook his head. “No, the best way to prove you are fit to lead is to bloody well do it and earn their trust anew, not to drop all responsibility like an unpleasantly wet shoe or, or - or an odiferous piece of cheese you don’t fancy after all!” 

He turned away and reached for the wine bottle. “Go on, take your walk,” he snapped. “Maybe you’ll walk some sense back into that head of yours.”

The elven fighter fought back a sob as he left their tent at a fast clip, eager to find a space where he could be alone and think on his failings. He finally found a spot where he could see the camp, but far enough away where no one would find him unless they were truly searching and had a clue where he’d gone. 

*** 

Two days later, the camp was finally ready for the push towards Adamant. One long day’s march would put them within sight of Adamant, returned once more to the high ridge where they had camped before, all those years previously. This time it would be as a company just under two hundred strong plus the four wagons of supplies and attendant followers rather than as an army of three thousand that had taken the field before the first battle of Adamant.

Anders was going over the contents of his pack one last time, making sure all his healing supplies were exactly where they needed to be. Hal was doing the same next to him; a few feet away, sitting on a nearby rock, Invictus and Arden were both going over the staves of all four mages, checking that the blades were sharp, handgrips unfrayed and that they were in good order for the fight to come. Invictus had already availed himself of a spare blade offered to him by Captain Amell to replace the worn one on the foot of Hal’s staff as Arden sharpened his own blade.

Zevran was running a whetstone over the edge of one of his long fighting knives and frowning at the keen edge. Dorian had returned his throwing knife to him the previous day and he had taken some time to clean, polish and sharpen it that evening. Anders glanced at the elf and knew it was likely only nerves that occasioned this attention to his blade now, for Zevran would never allow any blade of his to become blunt.

Fenris was checking his blade as well, and finally set it in its scabbard and came over to sit with Zevran, watching him carefully. “ _Amatus_ , I think that blade is sharp as it can be.” 

Invictus was packed and antsy as he paced restlessly around the others, anxious to get into the fight but worried for his loves. 

Zevran lowered his hands, then slid the knife back into its sheath upon his hip before tucking away the whetstone. “I mislike this waiting,” he confided quietly. “It will be better when we are moving.”

Arden gave the blade of his staff one last critical look then rose to his feet as Hal straightened. Arden handed Hal his staff and leaned in to kiss the redhead briefly before he drew back reluctantly.

“I’d best keep back before you can fall under the arulin’holm’s spell again, love,” he said softly. “I’ll keep it safe from you until the last moment, I promise.” He glanced to Fenris, then turned away. Hal watched him go, a miserable look in his eyes, then slung his staff on his back and turned to join the others once more.

The elven warrior gave Arden a respectful nod before heading off to mount his steed and pair up with Hal, since they were going to be part of the first to engage with the Venatori. “Ready?” Fenris asked Hal, his gaze soft as they waited to go. 

Invictus had mounted his horse and wasn’t far behind Fenris, his mind on the fight to come though he was still antsy as they waited. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” nodded Hal. “Maker. By this evening we’ll be in sight of Adamant’s walls. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“I think there will be many unable to sleep,” Anders said as he swung into the saddle of his own horse; Zevran had led his warhorse over to a large rock so he could do likewise. Anders guided his tall dappled grey over to walk beside Zevran’s mount as the destrier stood calmly, waiting until Zevran had mounted.

A shout had gone up; the scouts were departing and the Nevarrans and the templars were forming up in line already. The Grey Wardens were already on the move, over half of them gone with the scouts - Nathaniel among them. The Chargers were mounting up, and the ten Chantry battlemages had joined the templars, the mages from Skyhold riding with them save Anders, Invictus and Hal. 

Anders glanced to Zevran, and the elf nodded to him. Anders leaned over to kiss him before urging his horse over to Invictus. “Ready, love?” he asked. They would be riding with the other mages; Hal would be the only mage not a part of that group apart from Arden, who would be riding in view of Hal but far enough away from him to keep the arulin’holm’s influence away from him until the last moment. There was every chance the Venatori might mount an attack against them before they could reach the ridge overlooking Adamant, and there was no telling just when Hal might need it.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I just want to get this done. I haven’t felt this anxious going into battle in a long time,” Vic said before returning Anders kiss quickly and getting in line. 

“With luck, the battle won’t start until tomorrow at dawn - but when has luck ever been on our side?” added Anders bitterly. “We’ve not run into any demons on the road apart from those three that killed Zevran’s first horse, and although the scouts have encountered them there’ve been no attacks on the camp. I hate to say it - but we’ve had far too easy a time of it.”

“Don’t borrow trouble ahead of tomorrow love,” Fenris called back as he got his warhorse to settle down. “Come on, let’s get going and tomorrow brings what it brings,” the warrior said with a smile for Hal. 

Hal nodded, glancing over as Anders and Invictus rode up to kiss Fenris goodbye. He was clutching the reins of his horse nervously; instead of the dun mare he’d ridden thus far, Cassandra had given him her spare courser as it was fleet enough to keep pace with Fenris’ mount - but that put him rather higher off the ground than he was comfortable being, and without the arulin’holm’s influence all his nervousness around the beasts had returned with a vengeance.

Anders leaned over to kiss Fenris, unafraid of the distance to the dirt and stones below him, then guided his horse around to walk next to Hal for a few moments as Invictus took his place at Fenris’ side. He leaned over and unexpectedly gave Hal a hug.

“Don’t be too swift to ask for the arulin’holm,” he murmured to the younger man. “I’m in no more hurry to lose you than either Fenris or Arden are - and once you become a dragon, I have no idea if we can bring you back. I suspect it’s a once-only kind of deal as well - and only you can open the rift to Nightmare’s realm now Meneris no longer has the mark.”

“The arulin’holm will be destroyed,” Hal nodded. “You’re right. I shan’t call for it unless Nightmare itself is at hand - or the dragon. It makes little odds if I take us into the Fade here on the road or at Adamant itself, I guess, but I’m none too keen on racing to my death.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Anders. “Particularly as I know I can change to a bird, a cat - or a tiger; I don’t think I could manage a dragon though. I’m not Mythal or Morrigan, after all.”

“I hope you don’t change to anything during this fight, it will be chaotic enough,” Fenris said with a soft look for his husband. “I love you,” he said to Anders first then the others as they rode on. 

Zevran took his place at Fenris’ side, even as his eyes went to Anders and the Antivan seemed torn, a look of worry in his eyes. “ _Carissimi_... you know that I am not one for prayers,” he said quietly. “But do you think Mythal might hear me if I beg for them to be safe?” His eyes were still on Anders, no doubt thinking of his promise to the blond.

“I’m sure Mythal will hear you _amatus_ , and hopefully mine as well as we ride into this damned fight.” Fenris leaned over and kissed him deeply, before pulling back. “Be with Anders, keep him safe as you can, and I’ll find you all when this is done, ok?” 

Zevran turned agonised eyes towards Fenris. “But _carissimi_....” He groaned. “Whichever one of you I ride with, I leave my heart torn between you,” he groaned. He leaned across to kiss Fenris deeply before he pressed his forehead to Fenris’. “Mythal keep you safe, my heart, my love, my beloved,” he breathed. “May He bring you safely back to me at this day’s end, or I swear I shall follow you even into death itself.”

“I will fight death to return to your side; do not fear, my heart,” Fenris sniffed as he remained in Zevran’s embrace. “I’m a better man for you, and I don’t plan on leaving your side so easily. Take care of yourself my heart, _mi cariadad_ please,” he added softly before leaning back and composing himself. 

“I shall look for you at sundown, if death does not find us all first,” Zevran swore as he pulled away. “Hal! Keep yourself safe also! If you get yourself killed I shall be very vexed and tell Dorian to bring you back so I can tell you so!” He wheeled his destrier about then raced away after Anders and Invictus.

Hal gave an almost hysterical giggle. “I bet he would at that!”

“Let us face the demons, and you will make it my heart, I have no doubt,” Fenris said before setting his horse off at a fast clip, Hal’s mount matching his stride for stride. 

“Oi, Fenris!” yelled Dalish as she stood up in her stirrups as he passed Krem’s group. “Slow down or you’ll knacker your horse - we’ve got a long way to go yet and I’m not bloody carrying you if your horse drops dead!” There was scattered laughter from the others; even Grim cracked a smile.

“She’s right, Fenris,” Krem called. “Zev would tear a strip off you if you knackered your horse so early on. We’ll all get there soon enough!”

The warrior snarled at them but slowed his steed nonetheless. After the fight with Meneris he wasn’t kindly disposed to anyone Dalish. He slowed her to a walk and fell in next to Hal, even taking the young mage’s hand as they rode. 

The first demon attack came scarcely an hour later.

“Me and my big mouth,” groaned Anders even as he wheeled his horse about to call up shields, as were most of the other mages as all the warriors charged in to fight against the demons. Those on warhorses spurred their mounts directly at the demons, whilst the others dismounted and charged in on foot, grooms riding forwards to snatch up reins and lead their horses back to the safety of the wagons.

The demons were dispatched swiftly with a minimum of casualties, but that was only the first wave. Again and again, as they advanced towards Adamant, demons either appeared in their midst or else accompanied small skirmishing groups of Venatori and templars. It swiftly became clear that the venatori must be growing desperate; each small skirmish unit of templars and Venatori that their company destroyed took more numbers away from the occupiers at Adamant, leaving the fortress more and more undefended.

“Meneris, at this rate there’ll be only the dragon left at Adamant if they keep coming at us like this,” called Cullen as they cleaned their swords after the fifth such sortie had been defeated.

“We can hope, but we can’t go in with everyone exhausted. Send scouts to see if there’s anywhere we can settle for a short rest then we need to take advantage of their losses,” Meneris said as he glanced at his blade and sighed. “I’d rather press on if we’re able to reduce their numbers even more before entering the Fade.” 

“Meneris, there’s the ruins not far from here,” said Nathaniel as he drew closer, cleaning his long knives. “The ones where you confronted Erimond.” He frowned. “And found me.” He glanced down for a moment, his focus on his knives instead of the former Inquisitor.

“If you think we can safely rest there; call the order to move out in a half hour. A longer rest and charging in at dawn is what we can do I think. Assuming we don’t get any attacks between now and sunup tomorrow,” Meneris said as he rose with a wince and a glance around for his husband. “Creators and Andraste save us.” 

Nathaniel nodded. “There’s water there that should be drinkable, for us and our mounts alike. We’ll find none between there and the ridge by Adamant. We can be there in half an hour; we can care for our wounded there. Might take an hour to get fully on the road again, but by my reckoning they’ve lost - what, thirty? nearly forty? And we’ve lost only twelve. We outnumber them and we have a dragon. Time is on our side.”

“He’s got a point,” said Arden. “The battle is ours for the taking; it’s we who will dictate its terms, Meneris - not the Venatori. Remember - every life they take to raise demons is one less body they can throw against us in the fight. They’re running out of people.” He grinned mirthlessly. “They’re dead and finished; they just don’t know it yet.”

Anders pushed forwards. “Meneris. They may not notice a creature as small as a bird. I can fly there and back swifter then any scout and see how few their numbers are.”

“No, please don’t. I fear what could happen if you forget yourself again,” Fenris said as he grabbed Anders. 

“He’s got a point, and if you get swatted down as a bird, we’ll never know,” Vic added. 

“But their dragon would notice another dragon,” Anders pointed out. “It wouldn’t notice a bird. As a raven, I would have a chance of getting in and out unnoticed - and you’ve seen how smart many of Zevran’s ravens are, even more so than his crows. It’s why he only sends ravens to the Divine. I know I am the best scout you have right now.” He glanced to Invictus, Fenris and Zevran. “And I know you can all bring me back, remind me who I am.”

Fenris scowled but relented. “Fine...just, be careful alright?” he said finally.

“I don’t like it but I can’t stop you either,” Vic said. 

Zevran stared at Anders, dread in his eyes. “I beg you, do not do this, _mi cuore_ ,” he breathed.

“Zev... I _have_ to,” said . “Don’t you see? you of all people should understand - you were Spymaster. Were I any other mage, you’d order me to go - wouldn’t you?”

“No other mage would carry my heart with him,” whispered Zevran. “But I cannot stop you, _mi cuore_. Only... come back to me, my raven.”

Anders took his hands and nodded. “Remind me who I am when I come back,” he breathed. Then with a cry, his body shifted and changed, bones cracking audibly as they writhed beneath his skin - moving, changing, reforming as his form shrank.

It was far swifter than the shift into a tiger had been. A scream that lasted perhaps three agonised heartbeats that became the harsher scream of the raven that fluttered in Zevran’s outstretched hands.

“Fly! Fly, my heart! Fly swift and true and return!” cried the Antivan as he threw the bird aloft. The raven that had been Anders circled them once, twice, thrice; then soared away, wings catching an updraft effortlessly.

As they strained their eyes to watch him fly from view, something white soared up into the air from behind a sand dune and then sped after him.

“Mythal!” screamed Hal. “Mythal!”

Fenris’ brands lit up and he stared at the two birds, eager to follow but he knew that he couldn’t. Instead he watched as long as he could keep their forms in sight, anxious once they left his view. “I won’t panic, I won’t panic,” he said under his breath as he tried to keep calm. 

“He’ll be alright love, I know it,” Vic said as he wrapped his arms around Fenris and tried to keep him in place. 

Zevran stared in the direction the two birds had flown. “My heart will live,” he declared quietly. “Mythal heard my prayers. He will bring _mi cuore_ back to me.”

Arden’s face was bleak as he stood nearby, gazing after the birds. “Anders...” he whispered. “You were so near. And no word for me?” He blinked, then turned away as Hal lifted one hand towards him, then let it fall.

Fenris let Invictus hold him to keep him from losing himself before he did try and follow both Anders. He just stared out in the distance until he heard someone call him.

“Fenris, can I do anything?” Meneris asked quietly.

“No, you’ve done enough Pavus-Lavellan,” the taller elf responded before going back to watching for the ravens. 

Arden turned to Nathaniel. “Where are these ruins you spoke of?” he asked. “It’ll be some time before they return, and we have wounded to care for. Anders knows we were planning to go there; it’s where he’ll look for us, and he’ll need water and a rest when he returns.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Good thinking,” he agreed. “It’s not far. I’ll lead us there.” He glanced back to Meneris and the others.

Fenris reluctantly let go of Invictus and headed for his horse, and let Zevran take the reins of Anders’ mount as he was the better horseman. “He’ll come back to us, he has to.” 

Invictus fell in line next to Zevran, quiet as he rode and watched the skies for their heart to return to them. 

It was late into the afternoon when Zevran suddenly leapt to his feet, lifting one hand to shield his eyes against the glare from the sun before he took off at a run, swift feet throwing up sand as he sprinted. Arden was on his feet a heartbeat afterwards, Hal following as Fenris turned, and then the keen eyes of the tall elf saw what Zevran had seen - the silhouettes of two birds, still far off, one gliding and barely stirring its wings save for a couple of flaps merely to keep aloft.

Fenris held an arm up for the white raven, and watched as Zevran did the same for their Anders. He was glad that both birds had returned and he could relax finally. 

The black raven fluttered down, practically falling into Zevran’s outstretched hands; he cradled it to his chest as the bird gaped its beak, panting and exhausted, as the white raven eyed it, tilting its head to one side before it glanced at Fenris. Then it hopped down from his arm, glowing brilliant golden light and it was as a white-haired man that it landed. Mythal straightened, brushing a hand down his torso as he turned.

It was Flemeth, and yet not; the eyes were golden, the white hair twisted up into horns. But the face was Anders’, the body male. He tilted his head upon one side.

“Your lover has exhausted himself,” he purred. “He needs water and rest.”

“Can he change back?” Fenris asked as he watched Zevran cradling the bird and brushing a finger over its head. 

Invictus came over and gave Mythal a wary look before joining Zevran. “Come on, Anders; come back to us, love.”

Mythal eyed them. “It seems the bird has forgotten he was once a man. I’m sure you can persuade him to recall his former self however. Otherwise, what good is his knowledge? A pretty poor thing, to fly so far yet be unable to share with you the reason for his flight, hmm?”

Fenris growled low at Mythal as he walked past Him, and stroked Anders’ chest. “Love, you know us right? Remember us? Come back, we need you please,” the elf begged as he held a palm up for Anders to perch on. 

Zevran had pulled out his water canteen; he poured water into Invictus’ cupped hands then held the bird to it to drink. The raven gulped water frantically, its eyes sliding shut as it quenched its thirst. Zevran poured water twice more before the bird had slaked its thirst, and then carefully he placed it into Fenris’ waiting hands.

“ _Mi cuore_ ,” he said, his voice shaking. “Please. I beg you. Return to us.”

The bird chirped quizzically as it stared up at Fenris then Zevran.

Fenris let his markings light again as he stared at the bird and hoped it remembered who he was, that he’d change back. “You’re human not a bird, you have to remember who you are love. Please come back to us, I am begging.” 

“Please,” echoed Zevran desperately, his voice breaking.

The bird stared at him, then looked to Invictus before it fluttered to the ground. It gave a raucous scream and then there was a flash of light. Anders lay sprawled in the dirt at their feet, staring dazedly around him.

“Anders?” said Arden hesitantly. Anders cocked his head at the other mage in a very bird-like fashion and made a quizzical sound in the back of his throat then blinked and raised a clumsy hand to his throat.

“Anders?” Fenris echoed as he approached the blond mage. “Can you speak?” he asked as Invictus came behind him and approached as well. Zevran crouched and reached a hand towards the confused blond mage.

“F-F... Fenris?” Anders managed hoarsely. “Zev... Zevran? Vic?”

“ _Mi cuore_ ,” breathed Zevran. “Do you know who you are?”

“Anders,” whispered Anders. “I’m Anders. I’m Anders.”

“Thank Mythal,” Vic said shakily before he hugged Anders close to him. “So happy to have you back.” 

“That was too close,” Fenris breathed as he watched Zevran join Anders and Invictus in an embrace. 

Anders hugged them back, then looked around. “Where’s Meneris?” he asked. “We have to go. Right now.”

He looked up at them all.

“The Rift has opened at Adamant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're almost at Adamant and the final confrontation with Nightmare! But what's happened to Ellowynne? You'll just have to wait for the next chapter, won't you? ;-)


	65. Chapter 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude with Ellowynne, and Zevran is in no mood to hear Meneris' apologies. Adamant is breached, but Mythal has unwelcome news for some.

Ellowynne gazed around at the twisted, moss-draped trees and shivered slightly as she clutched the reins. “I don’t like the look of these woods, Lady,” she muttered to the dracolisk.

Lady merely grunted then huffed as she swung her great dragon-like head from side to side, keen eyes searching for movement. Ellowynne had swiftly come to depend on the beast to warn of danger; she’d rapidly come to learn the dracolisk’s tells when she’d caught an unsettling scent upon the breeze, and the reptilian mount seemed to have a protective feeling towards Ellowynne, standing her ground and protecting her. The dracolisk had helped her to drive off three gangs of bandits already between Skyhold and Emprise du Lion where they were at present - and seemed also to be very efficient at following the trail of Hal and the others.

Ellowynne was rather pleased with herself for having picked out what she considered by far the best of all the mounts at Skyhold, even if only she and Hal had seemed to think so. Dennett took good, if grudging care of the beast, but it was only really herself and Hal that had ever shown any affection towards the dracolisk. And she had responded with remarkable intelligence when Ellowynne had stolen out to the stables very early one morning with one of Hal’s spare sets of travel robes. The dracolisk had smelled the garment carefully then watched with alert attention as Ellowynne pulled down her tack from the store room and knelt patiently for Ellowynne to saddle her. She needed no bridle - or at least, Ellowynne had never seen Hal use one when he’d taken her out for rides whilst they were at Skyhold. She wondered why they’d left the dracolisk behind - Hal wasn’t afraid of riding on _her_ , after all, just horses.

Well, it was just as well they _had_ left her, Ellowynne reflected, because otherwise she would have found it very hard to follow after her father. She just _knew_ he and Hal must be in danger. They’d been gone so long, and it was really most unfair that they’d taken Pin, Callus and the twins but not her. She was thirteen now, for Andraste’s sakes! Why, just look how far she’d come on her own, with just Lady for company!

She hoped her father wouldn’t be cross that she’d borrowed his old staff. She’d found it tucked into a store room; there was nothing to distinguish it as his - but she’d known, the moment she picked it up. It _felt_ like him. It was a battered old thing, the silverite dragon’s head tarnished, the ironwood haft sunbleached, the six-bladed foot marked with rust. It had obviously spent a long time in the sea. But it still held a thrum of power, and when she hefted it she recognised its feel. She wondered how it had come to be there, in an old dusty storeroom.

She’d recognised it immediately, of course, even before she’d picked it up; she’d read Varric’s _Tale of the Champion_ , after all. _Freedom’s Call._ She was a mage, she needed a staff - and what other staff would be more appropriate for her? Hadn’t her father and Uncle Zevran brought her the gift of freedom? And she’d brought Hal’s black travel robes with her - they were more like a long wrap-around tunic with long sleeves, really. She wore them with the sash wound twice around her waist and the long sleeves rolled up; they were warm over the top of her Anderfels-style tunic and shirt. They still smelled faintly of elfroot and lyrium and a certain light musky smell that was uniquely Hal; it was almost as comforting as her father’s staff or the set of throwing knives Zevran had gifted her, strapped now to the inside of her left forearm beneath the sleeve of the robes. They were matched by the long fighting knife that hung at her left hip beside her belt knife. All had been bloodied twice now; she was certain Uncle Zevran would be proud of her, and Uncle Vic too. She knew she could _really_ consider herself a battlemage now.

The dracolisk halted, sniffing the air, and instantly Ellowynne had snatched up the staff from where she’d fastened it to the saddle and held it at the ready.

“What is it, Lady? Prey?” she whispered. She’d come to recognise the dracolisk’s various tells.

As the dracolisk lowered her head to sniff the trail, Ellowynne reflected that a dracolisk was a far better mount than a horse in every single way; they could fight far better than a horse, were obviously far more intelligent - and didn’t need to have fodder and feed carted around for them. Ellowynne and Lady hunted together every third day, and between them they’d become an efficient team, hunting down prey large enough to keep them both fed for two to three days.

This time, Lady had scented a deer; Ellowynne could see the sharp hoof imprints in the moss as Lady pursued it, Ellowynne crouched low over her neck. It wouldn’t take long for the dracolisk to track down the deer, she knew - and sure enough, barely half an hour after leaving the road she sighted the animal through the trees. She readied her staff.

A short while later, Lady was comfortably munching on the entrails of the unfortunate beast as Ellowynne set a haunch of venison over a fire to roast. The roasted haunch would keep her fed for a few days, and the rest of the meat, once cut up and well wrapped in large leaves, could be carried in the saddlebags to feed Lady until next they needed to hunt.

As the meat slowly roasted, she lifted it briefly from the flames to turn it; she caught some of the dripping fat in a bowl before setting the meat back over the fire for the other side to cook, then added the fat to the beechnuts she’d crushed in a bowl. She stirred in the fat and added a small drizzle of honey to the bowl before she worked the mixture into balls with her hands then flattened them and set the beech mast bread cakes to bake on a griddle resting on the coals at the edge of her fire, just as her father and Zevran had taught her.

She sat back against the warm flank of the dracolisk as she waited for her food to cook, licking venison grease and honey from her fingers before she pulled out the map again from her pack. She’d stolen it from the Inquisitor’s quarters; she thought it had originally belonged to Zevran - which in a roundabout way made it hers by rights. After all, Zevran was her stepfather. She traced her journey thus far, then her finger moved on to the Arbor Wilds, the Western Approach and the small mark that indicated Adamant.

It would take her maybe two more weeks tops to reach Adamant, by her reckoning, based on how far she’d already come. The dracolisk moved faster than any horse and could keep going for longer at speed than even the swiftest courser or messenger pony - and certainly far faster than a company of a hundred men, horses and wagons. There were places a dracolisk could run that such a large company could never pass through.

She ate, then carved the remains of the deer into portions that she wrapped in leaves then stowed away in the saddlebags before burying what little was left some distance away from her small camp. She washed her hands in a nearby stream before relieving herself behind a bush, then returned to the low smouldering coals of her fire. She cast a glyph of warding then sat down and carved the rest of the roast up, stowing it away in her pack before offering the bone to the dracolisk. Lady settled down to crunch it with enjoyment; Ellowynne pulled her blanket out and settled herself against the warm flank of the dracolisk, and Lady’s soft rumbling purr of contentment lulled her to sleep.

She dreamed of a tiger that changed into a black raven, and dragons over Adamant - gold, red, green, silver and black. And something dark and sinister that rose up to swallow them all.

***

Fenris was the first one up, though if he was honest what he’d had wasn’t proper sleep but more quick naps in between dreams of Anders being stuck in his raven form. He got up and wandered the makeshift camp hoping a walk would tire him out or at least settle his mind. He found his _amicus_ sitting and lost in thought. 

“Dorian?” he asked as he approached the magister. 

Dorian blinked as he came back to himself then glanced up before he pushed himself to his feet with a welcoming smile. “Fenris! Do excuse me, _amicus_ , I’m afraid my mind was miles away.” He shrugged briefly. “Afraid I’ve had rather a lot on my mind - but then, haven’t we all? Tell me - how is Anders?”

“He’s fine, still sleeping _amicus_ , if I can still call you that?” Fenris asked as he looked away briefly. 

Dorian lifted a hand to rub his chest over his heart without awareness he was doing so. “Yes, of course you can - after all, I called _you_ that, did I not?” He frowned slightly. “You weren’t attacking me, Fenris - I merely got in the way as you went for Meneris. And considering what Hal and Anders told me Zevran had said after you’d all returned to your tent, I can quite understand your rage at that point, though I’m rather glad you didn’t push further to take my husband’s heart. He may be an ass but I’m still rather fond of him, attitude be damned. Though you’ll be pleased to hear his attitude has rather changed since that night.” His expression softened. “How is Zevran now? This whole business must be very hard on him right now - particularly with Anders having been so badly hurt the last time we were here.”

“He’s better, and you know he’ll do as he needs to for the battle but... words cut deep and it's been a rough few days while we traveled here. Anders using his regained ability to shift worries all of us.” Fenris sighed as he looked at his friend. “How are things between you two? Afraid I didn’t help, trying to kill your husband.” 

Dorian’s expression turned bleak and he glanced away for a moment, one hand lifting to run through his hair briefly. “Not as well as I would like,” he confided quietly. “Meneris is too damned quiet and conciliatory - he’s walking on eggshells round me at the moment. I’m afraid I rather lost my temper at him, which I’ve done so rarely - but there it is. His attitude to yourself and your husbands has had repercussions all round and he’s rather reaping what he’s sown - and so am I.” He sighed. “It is what it is. We have Adamant yet ahead of us. If we survive it, then I suppose we shall see what comes of all of this then. I must admit I do wish I could share Arden’s optimism for our chances. How strange that he should be so certain of our victory yet also so certain of his own impending death.” He frowned, then glanced back to Fenris.

“Oh, don’t look so worried, _amicus_ ,” he said gently. “I bear you no ill will, believe me. I have, as you see, fully recovered physically.” He turned back to face Fenris, his arms outstretched in demonstration. “And I forgive you. It wasn’t me you were attacking, after all.” He lowered his arms, a slightly uncertain look in his eyes. “ _Are_ we alright, _amicus_?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice. “After all, I _am_ married to Meneris....”

Fenris approached him and raised a hand to his friend’s chest, his expression thoughtful as he rested his palm over the spot he’d thrust his hand through. He was quiet as he spoke, attention on that spot rather than looking at Dorian. “Of course, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was full of anger, and it scared me later. That I could still go so full tilt, from upset to ready to kill so quickly. Zevran said my anger is like a poison, and I nearly did something I couldn’t fix if you hadn’t intervened. I’d have taken your husband, and hurt you beyond anything I could make amends for.

“I know how much it means for you to have found someone you can love openly, to not have to hide who you are and it's not my right to want to take that from you my friend. I was not your _amicus_ in that moment but nothing but anger incarnate. I fear that it’s poisoned me too deeply to ever be more than a hairsbreadth from violence.” He didn’t dare look up; instead, Fenris focused on the spot where his hand rested. It was easier not to look at Dorian for the moment. 

Dorian’s breath stuttered in his throat for a moment as Fenris’ hand came to rest over his heart, and Fenris could feel how the magister’s heartbeat grew faster. But as the elf spoke, Dorian lifted a hand to rest it over Fenris’ fingers, holding his hand in place against his chest.

“ _Amicus_ ,” he said softly. “You will always be that to me until I draw my last breath.”

“I don't deserve your friendship, not after all I’ve done. Thank you,” Fenris said quietly though his breath hitched and he felt tears slide down his face. “Sorry, guess I’ve been a bit emotional lately.”

“Don’t cry, _amicus_ ,” pleaded Dorian. “Or else I may find myself joining you, and I do find that kohl smeared down my cheeks right before riding off into battle is such a dreary look, don’t you?” His voice sounded a little choked, and Fenris could feel how the magister’s breath hitched through the hand he still had pressed against Dorian’s chest, his heartbeat thrumming against his palm betraying Dorian’s distress far more than his words did.

“I won’t tell anyone if you do cry with me,” Fenris said as he stepped closer and hugged his friend. “Who would have thought we’d be here like this when we met a few years ago? Thank you for being my friend,” he whispered as he simply held the magister. 

Dorian sniffed as he wrapped his arms around Fenris’ shoulders. “I remember that day well,” he mused, his voice thick with the tears he was trying to hold in. “It was bitterly cold in the garden. I barely managed to string two sentences together before your hand was around my heart - the most painful way of greeting someone I have ever had the misfortune to receive.” He tried to laugh. “I am so glad you were finally able to see past that to the man I am - and that you allowed me that same courtesy, _amicus_.”

“I’d rather forget that day, I was not... I was still very angry at the world and Tevinter for existing. Thank you, and I’m grateful for your friendship. Sorry I almost killed you a few times,” Fenris said as he rested his head on Dorian’s shoulder and kept holding him, unwilling to let go of an embrace he’d needed.

Dorian chuckled a little tearily. “Four, by my count, plus the time you held me over that railing and threatened to drop me off the mountainside - but I forgive you all of them, _amicus_. Apparently I am somewhat unique for surviving in the face of my own stupidity, according to Anders.” He smiled. “Doubtless it is only my pretty face and my charm that account for why I’m still alive, hmm?”

“That and your rather talented tongue,” Fenris quipped as he tried to lighten the mood. “Sorry, that was probably not the right thing to say now.” He pulled away reluctantly to wipe at his face and regain his composure before he spotted Meneris not far from them, hanging back far enough to hide from most people; but he could see the elf thanks to his draconic nature. 

“Oh, I don’t know - double entendres always help lighten the mood, I find,” replied Dorian as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand without thinking and then groaned as he saw the black smears across his skin. “Dumat, now I’ve gone and done the exact thing I was afraid of,” he groaned. “I’m a mess.” He was oblivious to Meneris’ eyes upon them both as he spoke, staring glumly at the back of his hand.

“It’s ok, you have time to clean up before we ride out tomorrow.” Fenris gave him a slight smile before looking right at Meneris. “Besides, I think your husband might want your time now, he’s watching us,” he added quietly. 

Dorian’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and startled as he turned to follow the direction of Fenris’ glance. “ _Amatus_!” he exclaimed. “How long have you been lurking there?”

“I wasn’t lurking, I... didn’t want to interrupt whatever you were doing since it seemed important,” Meneris said as he approached with his head down, unable to look at either of them. “I hope things are alright between you two,” he added. 

“Fine; never better,” replied Dorian as he glanced down and frowned at the kohl left smudged on his hand. “Well, with the exception of my composure, perhaps. There are more enjoyable ways to ruin my kohl, after all; but in a gods-forsaken wasteland like this I’ll make do with what I can get - at least these are _happy_ tears for once.” He glanced at Fenris for a moment with a quick smile of reassurance before he turned his gaze to Meneris and his smile became more pensive. “I can only hope that they’re still happy ones once this ghastly business is all over.”

“I’m glad they were happy tears love, that you’re both ok. I’m going to try and get a little more rest before we ride out. Enjoy your time with Fenris,” Meneris said as he glanced away, afraid to look at the other elf. 

Dorian’s smile became sad before it disappeared entirely and he sighed. “ _Amatus...._ ” His voice trailed off as Meneris refused to meet their eyes. he had lifted a hand towards his husband but let it fall, a frustrated expression briefly flashing across his face before he schooled it to careful neutrality.

“Yes love?” Meneris asked as he finally looked at his husband, and hoped he hadn’t erred.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at this meek shadow of the man he’d followed into Adamant before, and who’d had the nerve to slap him at least once; as well as propositioned him a few times since then. “Who are you and what have you done with Meneris Pavus-Lavellan? This isn’t like you at all and this... shadow isn’t who we need leading us into Adamant come daybreak.” 

Dorian turned away to retrieve the bottle of wine still sitting next to the dried fallen log he’d been sitting on. He poured himself another glass and sipped it, not looking at either man but instead out at the desert beyond the ruins.

“I’ll… be myself when its time to ride out Fen--. Ser Hawke. I’ve wounded you and your family, and I’m trying to be respectful,” Meneris replied.

“This isn’t respect, it’s being a damned coward and pathetic. I should know; I’ve been like this far too often for my liking. Stop looking away, and cut out that Ser Hawke bullshit. Act like the man I followed here the first time, just without the superiority complex. I wouldn’t follow you as you are now across the road let alone into a battle where many of us could die. This pathetic act does not suit you Meneris, so drop it. Your husband deserves better, and the people following you into that fortress tomorrow do too. Now you two go talk, I’m off to see my husbands before we fight.” Fenris gave Dorian a slight bow before heading off to find the others.

Meneris watched him walk off before turning to his husband. “Dorian?” he asked, unsure what had just happened but he knew the other warrior was right in a way. 

“Yes, Meneris?” replied Dorian, his voice carefully calm and even as he refilled his glass and watched the wind hissing over the desert sands. It was nothing like Tevinter, the colours all wrong, even the sound of the wind over the dunes too harsh and sibilant. He sipped slowly, aware of the other man’s eyes upon him.

“Am I being so terrible? I thought... I thought it would be better if I was quiet and kept my mouth shut about anything besides the battle?” Meneris asked as he approached Dorian and held his hand out, desperately in need of comfort. 

“He’s right, you know,” said Dorian in a conversational tone as he lifted his glass again. “Meekness has never suited you.” He drank.

“I thought it was better than being an arrogant asshole,” Meneris admitted. “Please hold me, love?” he asked finally. 

Dorian lowered his glass for a moment and hesitated before downing the last dregs then glancing to the side, not quite looking over his shoulder at the elf. “So, it’s ‘love’ again, is it?” he asked, still in that careful tone of voice. “I had begun to wonder.” He glanced at the empty glass as though debating a third refill, but finally set the glass down, the wine bottle beside it, before he turned towards Meneris, his head still lowered as he opened his arms and waited.

The elf flung himself into Dorian’s arms with a slight sob and held him close. “It was never a question of me not loving you. I screwed up and I feared you hated me,” Meneris admitted.

Dorian wrapped his arms around the elf and closed his eyes tightly against threatened tears. “Yes, you did,” he agreed, his voice tight. “But it takes far more than that for me to hate you. Hate is such an unforgiving word, don’t you think? People throw it around far too easily. You would have to do far worse than this, _amatus_ , to earn my hate.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I couldn’t even hate my own father, and _he_ tried to use blood magic on me. So unless you’ve taken to slitting your wrist and summoning demons whilst my back was turned, I think you’re still good.” He bit his lip as he felt a single, hot tear squeeze out from beneath his eyelid to run down his cheek.

“I’d rather slit my own throat than ever do that to you, my heart, Dorian. I’ve really cocked things up, haven’t I?” he asked shakily as he held his husband. “Do you think they will hear me if I try and talk to them before we ride out? I hate this so much, and it’s my own doing. I have been such a fool to cling to old ways, even after finding out the truth of my people’s gods.” Meneris’ voice was shaky as he held Dorian close. 

“You -” Dorian broke off and had to swallow again before he could continue. “You can but try, _amatus_ ,” he managed. “And we should check on Anders in any case. I don’t know about you, but I’m unhappy setting one foot beyond these ruins until our best healer is back on his feet and able to ride his horse. Hal is good - but he isn’t Anders.”

“After we speak to them, can we have time for us... I need you, Dori; I need to know we’re ok and I’m sorry, I’m scared,” Meneris admitted as he kept his hold on his magister. 

“We could stay here for a while,” said Dorian quietly. “I likely look frightful, and you’re not looking much better, _amatus_.”

“Can we kiss? Sorry, I feel a little bit fragile still; having that mirror turned on me wasn’t comfortable,” Meneris said with a hopeful look up at his husband. He was met with the sight of Dorian looking rather fraught, his kohl smeared across his eyes and running down his face with his tears as the magister blinked wet eyelashes; Dorian managed to smile a little though.

“Mirrors are rather unforgiving things, I’ve always found,” Dorian replied, his voice wavering slightly. “Dumat only knows what tale mine would tell right now. Likely scream in horror and crack from sheer spite, I dare say.” His smile slipped, and then he bent his head to claim Meneris’ lips in a kiss as his breath shuddered in something suspiciously like a small sob.

Meneris arched up on his toes to kiss Dorian, putting everything he had into it. He pulled away for a breath then pulled his beloved down for another kiss, almost desperate for affection from him.

Dorian’s breath was a ragged inhaled gasp, his eyes closed as he was drawn down for another kiss, hands pressed against Meneris’ back for a moment before his fingers pressed harder against the silverite of the elf’s armour and he clung to the warrior as though his life depended on it. Meneris could feel the magister’s tears, hot and wet against his cheek. When they finally parted for breath, Dorian pressed his forehead against that of Meneris.

“Never, _ever_ do this again, _amatus_ ,” he gasped, finally blinking open his eyes as he stared at his husband. “This is almost too painful for words. The last few days have been torment for me, and I almost can’t forgive you for inflicting this on us both right before we ride straight back into that hellhole. If you die tomorrow I shall bloody well raise you just so I can scream at you, do you hear me?”

“Yes... love, I hear you. I’m so sorry,” Meneris said again as he clung to his beloved. “Let’s just go live somewhere quiet and enjoy the peace we’ll have earned, please? I just want to be happy with you,” the elven fighter asked. 

“When this nightmare is over in every sense of the word? _Amatus_ , we can go anywhere you please. I am still bound to my work in Tevinter, you know that - but with Nightmare gone, I will be able to live anywhere with you and merely hop back as and when necessary.” Dorian drew a deep breath, then sniffed. “I am a mess.”

“Can we be a mess together?” Meneris asked as he rubbed at his face and sighed. “Let’s get this over with and then I would very much like to make love to you before we ride into that Void bedamned fortress.” 

“Let me at least wash my face, _amatus_ ,” said Dorian as he straightened, wiping a hand over his face then grimacing at the mess on his hand.

“Alright love, let’s go back to our tent so we can both get presentable,” Meneris said as he kept hold of his husband’s hand and led them back so they could not look so terrible. 

Half an hour and a splash of ice water conjured by Dorian later, they both looked more presentable, even if Dorian felt unaccountably naked as they emerged from the tent, he without his customary eyeliner for once. He blinked, wincing, at the overly-bright light. Of course, whilst the kohl was viewed in the South as being merely the narcissistic affectation of a degenerate Northerner, in Tevinter it was as much protection from the blinding sunlight as fashion affectation. He’d almost forgotten that; he was painfully reminded of it now as they walked between the tents, looking for the one where the four Hawkes rested. At least if his eyes still seemed suspiciously red he could blame it on eyestrain.

They finally found the tent, set up right in the centre of the mages’ area of the camp. Pin and Marian were stood outside talking quietly with Captain Amell as they approached; whilst the look the three women gave Dorian was friendly, their eyes as they turned towards Meneris were decidedly colder and harder.

“Hello Pin, Marian, Captain Amell,” Meneris said as he forced himself not to flinch at their cold stares. 

“Dorian, how good of you to come visit,” said Pin politely. “You’ve come to see how Master Anders fares?”

“Yes, we have, Pin,” replied Dorian, glancing briefly to Meneris before nodding to the young woman.

“He’s awake I think,” said Marian. “Captain Amell brought them all food a short time ago, and I believe he was stirring then.”

“Senior Enchanter Anders should make a full recovery,” said Amell. “He exhausted himself and was badly dehydrated, but rest, food and water was all he required. Shall I announce you, ser?”

“Ah, no need,” said Dorian. “I’m sure Fenris is expecting me.” He stepped forward towards the tent flap. Amell leaned over to hold it open for him, just as Pin casually stepped in Meneris’ way.

There was a tense silence.

“Coming, _amatus_?” asked Dorian. The elf mage and the warrior stared at each other, Pin fingering the haft of her staff meaningfully as she narrowed her eyes at the former Inquisitor. Then slowly she stepped aside. Marian did likewise, deliberately looking over Meneris’ head.

“Go on, I would like to speak to Pin for a moment, if she’ll let me,” Meneris said as he returned her challenging stare. 

“Are you sure you want to sully yourself speaking to a lowly city elf?” she replied, her blue eyes cold as ice.

“Pin... I would like to apologize; if you won’t let me I understand,” Meneris replied as he fought the urge to flee from her anger. 

“You insulted my father. You insulted my step-fathers. You hurt Zevran, you hurt my father, you were worse than the lowliest dog - a dog only bites from fear, after all,” she snapped out, her white teeth flashing. “Invictus likely was more concerned with Zevran and my father than with the insult to himself, but I know how your kind regard the humans. I have never been so glad as to have been born a city elf and not one of the Dalish, for I’d hate to claim kinship with them if _you_ are the best example they can produce! I’d sooner claim kinship with a _nug_!”

“Pin,” said Marian softly. The angry elf drew herself up haughtily and glared at Meneris.

“Keep your damnable apologies,” she snarled. “I want none of it, or of you! Tomorrow, I follow my father, Invictus, my master Anders - I look to _them_ , not you!” She turned away and stalked off angrily between the tents, Marian striding after her, her longer legs catching up to the irate elf within a few strides before she matched her wife’s pace.

Amell was still regarding Meneris with an unfriendly look. “In or out,” she asked coolly, before adding “ _Ser_?”

“In,” Meneris managed before ducking in and trying to compose himself. 

Fenris turned when he heard the terseness in Captain Amell’s voice and the way Meneris looked just as cowed as he had earlier. “My daughter does not take half measures when she’s full of rage, much like her sire,” he said as he approached. 

“Considering she could have fried him on the spot, I admire her restraint,” Vic chimed in from where he sat next to Zevran, an arm around the elf just in case. 

Anders glanced up. “Pin is my apprentice,” he said calmly. “If she doesn’t have damned good control of both herself and her powers by now then I’m a damned poor teacher.” He stared at Meneris; there was a little more colour in his cheeks now, but he was still alarmingly pale. He was resting upon a low camp cot, the remains of a meal upon the tray still resting upon his lap.

Zevran had given Meneris one look then glanced away, his eyes on Anders, although he had slowly curled one hand into a fist. “What is _he_ doing here?” he whispered softly.

“I’ve come to talk, but if you don’t want me here I’ll go. I can only try and make amends, again and again. I’ve no hope you’ll forgive my arrogance but I beg you to hear me, but I’ll leave if you cannot stand the sight of me,” Meneris said with a glance to his husband and Fenris, who were resting against a pole, arms around each other as if they needed comfort for what could happen. 

“Zevran,” Anders said very gently. There was no note of rebuke in the mage’s voice, yet the Antivan bowed his head as though he had been softly chided.

“Speak, then,” said the Antivan roughly. “Make amends, if you can. If such a thing be possible.”

The warrior swallowed as he tried to find his words then knelt before Zevran and continued. “I owe you all a debt that cannot be repaid as Hal reminded me. Not knowing your past is no excuse, and I offer my humility and apology to you. I don’t know that I can ever do enough to make it right in your eyes but anything you wish, in word or deed is yours Zevran Hawke, I beg you and hope that I can show I’ve changed my attitude and lost the arrogance that hurt all of you so deeply.” Meneris remained on his knees before the other elf, contrite and humbled in hopes of fixing the deep rift. 

Behind him, Dorian was watching, and a pained look crossed his face as Meneris lowered himself to his knees. He made to move closer then found himself held in check by Fenris. He held still, able only to watch as Zevran slowly turned his head then looked up at Meneris.

“So,” said the Antivan quietly. “How is it that one of those your people call _shem_ was able to reach you, when all that I have done for you could not?” he asked, his voice scarcely much more than a whisper. “What am I to do with your apology? Words. You bring me yet more words, Meneris of no clan now. Where are your people? Where are mine?” His eyes narrowed slightly. 

“You are not a man of words, and nor am I, Lavellan,” he said as he leaned forward. “Though we may both wound with them, can we not? You may not have been sold into slavery, but your hands have dealt death enough - and whilst I may be the assassin, there are more deaths at your door than at mine - for many of those deaths I dealt in _your_ name, no? So. Your name is death, as much as mine, likely more. Tomorrow we bring more death, yes?” He clenched his fist. “I do not need more words, Meneris. I need deeds, actions. You have destroyed my trust in you. I thought you my friend, not some snake I had allowed too close, too trustingly, only to awaken when I felt the teeth in my flesh! Prove to me I can trust you. Prove me wrong, for my heart tells me that you will only betray us all.”

“Zevran!” said Anders, then fell silent as Zevran flung a hand up.

“I lost my clan because others wanted to use them for their connection to me. I will do what I can to prove myself but if it's not enough, it's what I’ve earned.” Meneris rose and dusted himself off before giving Zevran a low bow. 

“I’ll be in our tent love, I need a little time to think on my failures,” Meneris said shakily. 

Zevran had lowered his head and turned away, even as Invictus held him close. Anders was staring up at Meneris, an uncertain look in his eyes. He looked over at Dorian and Fenris, then back to the Dalish elf.

“I tried to warn you,” he said quietly. “I _told_ you.” He shook his head.

“Anders,” said Dorian, then cleared his throat as the mage looked over at him. “Ah... how are you feeling now? You’re looking... better?”

Anders gave a faint smile. “I’ve felt better,” he replied. “I feel more alive than I did the morning after five smites in a row however. I’ve slept, and beyond food and water that was all I really needed. I’d overflown myself. We could ill afford to wait around however; that rift is open at Adamant and we need to confront Nightmare as fast as possible.”

Fenris was quiet as Meneris left the tent, and simply looked to his spouses. “What do you need _amatus_?”

“Time,” said Zevran as he finally looked up at Fenris. “Time, and peace. But the one, we cannot have; and the other cannot come until we are done at Adamant.” He sighed, and his shoulders slumped as he leaned back into Invictus’ arms, slowly uncurling his hand from the fist it had been clenched in.

“I’m sorry love, I wish I could give you time and peace but we will have those soon enough,” Vic said quietly. 

“We will make it through and we’ll be ok afterward. We’ll go home and never leave our quiet house,” Fenris said as he looked to the others and then Dorian. 

Zevran closed his eyes. Anders stared at him, clearly worried. “Love?”

“You should rest, _mi cuore_ ,” the Antivan said softly without opening his eyes. “You will need your strength, no? It is still a little ways to go to Adamant, and we will have to set off before midnight if we are to arrive with the dawn.”

“We all should rest I think,” Fenris said as he released Dorian. “See you at the front of the line tomorrow _amicus_?” he asked. 

The magister nodded. “You will indeed, _amicus_ ,” he answered. “Dumat willing, we will find little resistance from the Venatori and take the fortress swiftly.”

“Be well my friend.” Fenris gave him a brief hug before seeing the magister on his way. 

“Come, we all should rest as much as we can tonight,” Vic said as he held Zevran close. 

 

***

As Zevran had observed they would have to do, they broke camp a little before midnight and headed out into the darkness. The stars were their only source of light as they pushed on over the softly hissing sands, the horses’ hooves ploughing through the gritty sand as they drove on through the night. It was perhaps an hour before dawn when they found themselves upon the ridge overlooking Adamant.

They couldn’t see the dragon in the darkness, but none of them were in any doubt that it lurked there, unseen, the darkness of the night hiding it from their eyes. The horses were watered and then the company was drawn up into units, each according to their roles.

Fenris and Hal waited a little distance away from the rest of the company so that the sight of the dragons would not terrify the horses. They were not alone; the other three Hawkes had accompanied them there, along with Arden.

Anders, Invictus and Zevran stood with their eyes averted as Hal and Arden stood with their arms wrapped around each other, Hal’s face buried against Arden’s shoulder as the blond mage held him close, his eyes closed and cheeks wet with tears.

“I’m afraid,” gasped Hal softly. “Arden -”

“I know,” murmured Arden. “I can’t bear to lose you. Not like this, not ever.”

“All will be well, I have a feeling,” Fenris said as he watched them embracing. He felt someone take his hand, and he was glad to see Zevran on one side, and Anders on the other while Invictus held him close. 

Anders was silent, his eyes on the ground as Arden and Hal kissed each other deeply before finally, reluctantly parting. Arden swallowed hard as he gazed into Hal’s eyes.

“Wait for me, love,” he said softly. “On the other side. I’ll come to you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Hal nodded, then took a half step back.

Arden drew a deep breath, then reached into his robes to produce the arulin’holm. “I love you. Never forget that I love you,” he told Hal as he handed the blade to the redhead.

Hal took it slowly, and a calmness came over him as he curled his fingers around the hilt. He placed the tip against his chest, directly over his heart, and then lifted his head to stare into Arden’s eyes.

“I will wait for you, Arden Hawke,” he said quietly. Then he drove the arulin’holm into his own heart.

He gasped, eyes widening as dark blood welled up around the blade, then seemed to struggle to speak for a moment. Beside Fenris, he heard Anders give an answering gasp, even as Invictus shuddered.

“No!” cried Arden as Hal dropped to his knees, his eyes still on Arden as he coughed, dark blood spilling from his lips. “No, Hal, Maker _no!_ ” He dropped to his own knees as Hal shuddered then fell forward; he caught the stricken mage, staring down at him in horror. “Maker, _NO!_ ”

Hal stared up into Arden’s eyes and tried to smile; and then his eyes gazed sightlessly through Arden as the blond mage screamed.

Anders was staring at them both, eyes wide in horror; Zevran gave a choking gasp, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of Arden as he screamed again, and cradled Hal’s body in his arms, rocking slightly.

And then Hal’s body lit up in brilliant golden light that blinded them all. They were buffeted by a sudden gust of wind; when they could finally see again, a blood-red dragon hovered in the sky above them, gazing down at Arden where he sprawled in the dirt, bitterly weeping as though his heart would break.

Fenris knelt down by Arden and gently touched his shoulder. “I’ll do my best to keep him safe and get him back to you. This once, trust me,” he said before turning to his spouses to say goodbye before joining Hal. 

“Be safe my love, I don’t want a repeat of the fight against Corypheus,” Vic said before giving him a drawn out kiss. Fenris could feel him shaking slightly. 

Zevran was staring at the patch of blood where Hal had bled out his life upon the dirt; his face was pale, and he seemed a little in shock, a haunted look in his eyes. As the Antivan turned slowly towards Fenris, the warrior suddenly realised that for a moment, Zevran must have been reliving the moment in which he saw Anders die in Invictus’ arms.

Fenris pulled him to him and tilted the shorter elf’s face towards him. “Zev, are you with me?” he asked in fear. 

The Antivan seemed to gaze through him for a moment before he blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on his face at last. “Where is the white bird?” he whispered. “There was a white bird.”

“Zevran?” Anders’ voice was shaky, but it seemed to snap the Antivan out of his shock as he turned to stare at Anders, then gave a nervous, trembling laugh. 

“ _Mi cuore_ ,” he breathed, and then turned to Fenris, his face still far too pale but his eyes clearer. “Forgive me,” he said shakily. “That - it was too much like - you understand? _Carissimi_? I should not have come and yet -” 

He broke off and kissed Fenris deeply, until only the desperate need for breath forced him to pull away. “Come back to me safely, _carissimi_ ,” he panted. “I cannot bear to face the possibility of your death as a dragon a second time, or you will be _my_ death.” 

“If I don’t come back, have Dorian raise me so you can yell at me,” Fenris said before turning finally to Anders, to find himself held close and kissed to the point of nearly swooning. 

“Come back,” the mage gasped. “You have to. Promise me you’ll come back.” 

“I promise, my heart,” Fenris said as he gave Anders one last kiss before stepping away and shifting to join Hal, his gaze sad as a dragon could look before they flew ahead. 

Once Fenris and Hal were out of sight, Invictus went over to Arden and picked him up gently, letting the other mage sob against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

Arden had curled his bloodied hands into fists. “Why couldn’t it have been me?” he wept. “It should have been me! He’s too young - he doesn’t deserve to die like that!” He closed his eyes. “Maker damn me, it should have been me....”

Anders drew closer, tears in his own eyes. “Arden....”

A sudden breeze swept over them, buffeting their hair, and Arden opened his eyes, blinking upwards. Then his eyes fell on the golden dragon that was swooping low over them before it soared up into the sky to join the silvery-white and the blood-red dragons already aloft. He pushed himself away from Invictus and ran after the dragon a few paces until he reached the edge of the ridge, then he shook a bloody fist after it.

“Mythal! Mythal, you _bastard!_ ” he howled. “You took him from me! You took my Hal! Damn you, take me too!”

“Arden!” gasped Anders. He took a step towards the grieving man but Zevran was there first. He laid a hand on Arden’s shoulder and leaned forward, whispering something low and urgent to him. Arden shook him off angrily, but Zevran merely continued to whisper to him, and after a moment Arden tilted his head slightly towards him. Then he turned to stare at the elf.

“You know I speak only the truth,” said the elf.

“You’d better be,” growled Arden. He turned back towards them, a sullen, resentful look in his eyes as he approached. He halted and stared at them each in turn, grief and anger in his eyes.

“Come on,” he snarled. “Let’s kill some fucking Venatori. I’m going to make those fuckers _hurt_.”

Invictus raised an eyebrow at his tone but said nothing, he merely nodded and headed for his mount. “Let’s kill everything that’s not with us,” he said with a terrible grin. 

Meneris watched the three dragons fly off then signaled for their group to move out so they could mow down what was left of the Venatori before they stormed Adamant. 

The Grey Wardens and half the mages had departed the moment Fenris had taken to the air; the silvery-white of his hide was easier to see in the predawn darkness than the darker hide of the red dragon, and none had seen the approach of the golden dragon as Mythal took to the air. As Invictus and the others reached the main company, they were met by Carver and Amell; Rowan held the reins of their horses. As they mounted, Carver moved to the side of Zevran’s horse to give the Antivan a boost up into the saddle, before mounting his own horse.

“Vic, we’re with you,” Carver said tersely. “My templars will Silence and Purge the enemy spells as far as possible and give you a chance to fight back, lay down smites on the Venatori and take down the red templars. That gives your battlemages and mine a chance to get off offensive spells and provide frontline healing, and hit that bloody dragon as hard as we can to give our dragons a fighting chance.”

Anders glanced to Rowan. “Amell, you’ll be with me?”

“Frontline battle medic, ser,” she nodded.

“And I ride with you also, _mi cuore_ ,” added Zevran. He seemed to have recovered from his shock, though he was still pale.

“I’ll be riding with Cullen and Cassandra,” said Arden. “I want to be first through that breach when they blast that wall open.” He nodded to the others, then spurred his horse forward to join Cullen and Cassandra.

“I’ll be with the battlemages, and first to destroy those fuckers as we get into the fortress,” Vic said with a nod to the others before lining up with the frontline battle mages. 

Carver took his place at the head of the templars and raised his sword; all along the ridge, the leaders of each unit was doing likewise, save Cullen, whose eyes were on the walls of Adamant.

From across the plain came the screech of the enemy dragon as it uncoiled itself from a tower, the rising sun at their backs glinting off its blackened scales as it rose to meet the three dragons diving towards the fortress. The gold and silver dragons dove to attack as the red dragon peeled gracefully away to swoop down towards the repaired wall; at the last moment, it unleashed a blast of fire against the wall before soaring up into the sky then arced back for another try.

“Oh, smart,” murmured one of the mages in Chantry armour. “Send the bright ones against the black dragon and send the darker, less noticeable one to smash down the wall. Andraste is with us - the light will win.”

Invictus kept his gaze on the sky as long as he could before they charged into battle, his mind focusing on the fight ahead. He glanced down to see who was waiting to lead the charge briefly before looking up to see the three dragons entangled in combat. “Love please…”

Far above their heads Fenris was attacking the black dragon with fire, and wheeling off to let Mythal get in an attack before trying to take the unnatural thing down and keep it away from the ground forces. He barely avoided the creature’s red fire as he let Mythal take his turn. 

The golden dragon swooped around and blasted the black dragon, then as the unnatural beast screamed in rage and turned to follow Mythal, the golden dragon appeared to turn the wrong way in attempting to dodge and took a blast of fire to its left wing; it screamed in agony and struggled to stay aloft, and with a screech of triumph, the black dragon dove after it, away from the wall where the red dragon was lining up for another run against the repaired wall which was in pretty bad shape now.

Arden watched, his eyes wide, not sure where to look - at the red dragon who was swooping down towards the wall and unleashing a blast of flame at it, or at the golden dragon as it struggled to clear the battlements, the black dragon diving down upon it even as the silvery-white dragon threw itself after the black dragon in pursuit.

“A deliberate decoy!” exclaimed Cassandra. “But at what cost?”

“Count the cost later - the wall is down!” shouted Cullen. “Charge!”

Invictus was eager for the call to battle, and when it sounded he was first in his group barreling towards the wall, taking out any Venatori foolish enough to get in their way. He dismounted, joining the battle mages as they surged forward, letting fire, ice and force magic fly at enemies. There was little resistance as they swept in; the Nevarran knights had poured through the breach in the wall like a river of thunder, mowing down any and all opposition that dared stand in their way and leaving the smashed and broken bodies of red templars in their wake. As the battlemages and templars surged through behind them, everywhere he looked was chaos; Nevarran knights fighting eldritch horrors and demons that were being called up by desperate Venatori or pouring out through the ragged green rift that danced and flickered in the inner courtyard each time it pulsed.

There were Grey Wardens and mages up on the battlements, but this time they were on their side, cutting down what Venatori still remained up there as the three dragons fought above. As Invictus stared up for a moment, a shadow raced overhead and then the red dragon reared up to join the fight against the black dragon.

Then he was too intent on the fight at ground level to watch the dragons any longer.

All around him were the screams of men and women - fighting and dying, spells going off all around. To his right, Zevran still rode upon his black destrier at Anders’ side; as he made to head to their side, he caught sight of Arden fighting a rage demon.

Invictus blasted it with ice and helped the other mage finish it off before catching sight of another rage demon approaching, and leapt at it, crushing prison at his fingertips so he could hold it still. “Why... is it always demons?” he snapped as he froze it in place, shattering it with a strike of the bladed end of his staff. 

He caught sight of a silver flash above them as Fenris wheeled for another strike at the black dragon, wincing at the loud screech from the warrior as he went for the black dragon’s wings with his talons. 

Arden grabbed hold of his collar and yanked him back sharply with surprising strength as another demon nearly impaled him with a talon. “Less gawking, more fighting!” the blond mage shouted as he threw up a barrier then paused to glance back at him, eyes wide. He started to turn back towards the fear demon then staggered with a hoarse cry as a red templar barrelled into the pair of them; Invictus managed to keep his feet but Arden went down as the red templar raised her sword with an inhuman cry - just as Krem’s fierce maul slammed into her face and ripped her head from its shoulders with the force of its swing.

“Vic! Duck!” Krem shouted; as Invictus dropped to the ground, Krem did likewise just a split second before the red dragon swooped low over the courtyard and suddenly the fear demon was gone.

“Fuck me, I’m glad he’s on our side,” breathed Krem as he got back to his feet.

“I owe you one Krem!” Vic called out before he pulled Arden to his feet and waded back into the fray of what seemed like endless demons, Venatori and red templars. “Where are they coming from? We killed so many on the way here!” Invictus panted right before he grabbed Arden to keep him from being frozen where he stood.

“Shields, Arden!” he called before quickly slamming down a lyrium potion and casting Crushing Prison at the red templar that was advancing on them. 

While they fought what seemed like a ridiculous amount of demons, Meneris was with Dorian close to the front lines, fighting off Venatori not taken out by the spirits Pin called up to fight with them. He had a few shallow cuts, and his silverite arm was smudged with dirt, blood and ichor as he fought off a red templar that seemed intent on taking him out. 

He looked around and saw Zevran and Anders, the Antivan elf fighting while Anders was focused on healing those who made up the first wave of combatants. He ran over in time to block a hit that would have put the shorter elf on his knees and maybe taken out their best healer. “Anders...shield please!” he huffed before pivoting to take down another red templar that had broken through. 

The Antivan staggered slightly, clearly favouring one leg, though he still managed to bring up both his long blades to block the attack of another red templar even as Anders looked up, startled, from the fallen Nevarran he was busy healing; a moment later, Meneris felt the telltale tightening of his skin as Anders threw up shields over them both before turning back to the knight.

Zevran drove a blade through the throat of the templar then swerved back out of the way as the templar fell, before turning to glance at his would-be saviour. Blood was dripping into his eyes from a cut near his hairline on his forehead, and he looked near exhausted as he nodded at Meneris without really focusing his eyes on him, already turning to raise his blades before lunging at a demon that was rearing up over the oblivious mage.

The elven fighter helped Zevran dispatch the demon and took up a position near them so he could help with keeping Anders safe while he healed, and help Zevran as well. “Here, take this.” He slipped the Antivan an opened stamina potion before turning to parry a templar that had come in fast on their side. 

Zevran stared at Meneris in dull surprise before downing the potion. He grimaced as he felt the rush of energy through muscles already aching and painful, then threw the empty flask aside as he lifted his blades once more.

The fight was slowly yet surely turning in their favour. The black dragon was screaming in agony, and bodies littered the battlements and courtyards - most of them in the luridly glowing armour of the red templars or in the blood-soaked robes of Venatori. Patches of slime and ichor stained the stones where demons had met their end; pools of dragon blood steamed in the early morning air.

The black dragon plummeted towards the ground as a demon fell to Meneris’ sword; there was an earth-shattering crash as the dragon’s broken body smashed down through the remains of the gate and cratered the ground, the shock of its body striking the ground causing the earth to shake and knocking many off their feet.

The golden dragon soared over the ramparts and arrowed straight for the rift, its fiery breath incinerating the next wave of demons as the rift pulsed and spat them out before it circled around and landed, one wing ripped and bloodied, one eye closed, burn marks along one side of its body. The silvery-white dragon had fared far better, though ragged talon wounds marred the white hide in places.

The red dragon dropped down to land between them as the silver and gold dragons glanced up to watch it land. Then the golden dragon’s form shimmered and shrank as it shifted, and Mythal stood there, watching as they drew closer.

Fenris shifted and went to one knee, clutching his side as the wounds he’d suffered as a dragon centered along his right side. “At least I didn’t crash this time,” he tried to laugh but it came out as a pained groan. 

Anders was already running to his side, one hand outstretched and glowing blue with healing magic. “Maker, love!” he gasped as he dropped to his knees and pressed his palm against Fenris’ ribs, channelling healing into the elf’s body. “How bad is it? Let me -” He fell silent as he sank his focus into the elf’s body, intent on healing.

Arden pushed forwards, his eyes going to the red dragon. He ran forward then halted as he trailed his eyes over the dragon’s body, searching for any sign of wound or injury before he glanced to Mythal.

“Bring him back,” he said in a low voice. “I know you can do it. Give him back to me.”

Mythal shook his head. Blood was dripping from the fingers of his left hand from terrible wounds in his arm, and his right eye was swollen shut. “I cannot. He has not yet completed the task for which I gave him the arulin’holm. You know that as well as I.”

“Please!” begged Arden. “Let him go! I will go in his place! Only please, bring him back!”

Mythal regarded him impassively. “What is done, is done, child,” he replied. “You know that. You cannot change the past now; there is only the here, the now, and the not-yet-to-come. Would you leave the task unfinished and doom the world with your own desire?”

‘Arden...I know you hate it, as do I but ...he has to finish,” Fenris said as he winced from another injury Anders found.

“You can’t go for him, you know that Arden. We’ll be at your side and help as much as we can but he agreed to take this on,” Vic said as he tried to get the other mage to settle. 

Arden gave a low cry of anguish, then slumped slightly. “Maker. Hal,” he groaned.

The red dragon lowered its head and gently nuzzled Arden very delicately, the golden eyes somehow managing to look sorrowful and yet alien, all at once. Arden gave a muffled sob and flung his arms around the dragon’s head and squeezed his eyes shut as he stood there.

“Arden,” said Anders softly. The other mage was silent for a moment, then drew back just enough to meet the gaze of the dragon.

“Take me with you,” he whispered.

“Let them have this moment together Mythal, at least give them that,” Fenris said as he looked at them, and gave Arden a sad look. 

“It’s the least of what you could do, knowing what’s to come for Hal,” Vic added as he held Zevran up while Anders shifted to working on him. 

Mythal glanced at the blond mage who still clung to the red dragon. “My Servant knows his duty,” replied the white-haired man, inclining his head to one side. The blood had ceased to drip from his fingers and the wounds down his arm were already half-healed, his eye opened once more. “Who he chooses to take with him as he does so is entirely his choice however.”

Fenris glared at the other man, somewhat surprised at how cold He was being towards Hal and Arden. He watched the two lovers, saddened for what they expected to come. He went over and put a hand on the red dragon’s snout one last time. “You will be well Hal, and Arden will be with you, be brave love,” he said quietly.

Invictus sniffed quietly as he watched them, not wanting to think on how Fenris would fall to pieces after all was said and done. He knew the elf was putting on a brave front but he would be no good after the battle, and after the young mage met his end. 

The red dragon nuzzled Arden, then stretched out a foreleg and crouched down.

“Hal?” murmured Arden, then stared as the dragon stretched out its neck and eyed him expectantly. A faint smile crossed his face. “Together, then, love?” he asked softly. He set a foot upon the dragon’s foreleg then swung himself up and astride the dragon’s neck, just in front of the wing joints, then unslung his staff as he gripped with his knees. The dragon rose up to all four legs and glanced around at the others.

“Meneris, it seems this is where we take the fight into the Fade?” said Cullen.

“For him, yes,” said Mythal. “But for you, this fight is over, Cullen Rutherford-Pentaghast.”

“What?” said Cullen, a look of incomprehension in his eyes. Mythal was regarding him with almost alien eyes.

“This is no longer your war,” Mythal continued. “Others will carry on here, but not you. Your templars will not be able to pass.”

“I... I don’t understand,” Cullen faltered.

“The desire for lyrium has never left you, and your templars are unprepared for such temptations. Their mage brothers and sisters however are well acquainted with the temptations that demons can offer. You must stay behind. They will carry the fight forward now.”

Zevran blinked as he stared at Mythal. "Then... what of me?” he asked slowly. “I, too, have known the temptations of lyrium.”

For the first time, Mythal’s expression was one of sympathy. “I am sorry, my child. Where your lovers go, you cannot follow.”

“ _No!_ ” screamed Zevran, agony in his voice. “No, you cannot ask me to remain behind whilst my heart goes without me! Anders, Fenris, Invictus - they, they may all go and I must stay behind??”

“Zevran - Mythal, no, you can’t ask this of him!” cried Anders. “Please!”

“I beg of you, as your Chosen, to let him come with us! He has struggled and fought to be here, do not deny him this last fight!” Fenris asked Mythal, even giving the white haired version of Anders a long, deep bow in obeisance. 

“You speak as though I deny him frivolously,” Mythal replied. “It is out of my hands. If he steps into the rift, then he will be lost to you all.”

“Then...” Anders stared at him, and swallowed hard before stepping to Zevran’s side. “Then I also remain here,” he said firmly as he took Zevran’s hand. He glanced towards Fenris and then Invictus as tears began to run down his face. “I’m sorry - I’m so sorry,” he managed. “Please - forgive me, and come back to me - to us!”

Fenris swallowed the retort he had for Mythal and his judgement but kept it to himself. Instead he went to them both and gave each man a parting kiss and a promise to return to them. “After this, no more fighting, no more battles. We rest, and we are beholden to none other than our vows to each other. I love you so much.” 

Invictus glared at Mythal, before he gave them his own parting kiss, sorrowful as he gave them a tearful farewell. “I’ll make sure he comes back.” 

“You come back as well!” Anders cried, unable to stop crying. “Maker, you have to come back too!”

Zevran had no words; he flung his arms around Fenris’ neck, then Invictus, before retreating to Anders’ arms.

The last thing they saw before they stepped through the rift was the sight of Anders and Zevran, still watching, pain and longing in their eyes.


	66. Chapter 66

Life has gotten in the way of writing, so the end of a Path Well Trodden will come eventually, for now it's on hiatus. When the fic is updated, this tiny note will get deleted.


End file.
